The entrance wasn't a door; it was a swallowing. One moment Elijah was dropping through cold air, the next he landed with a jarring thud on a curved, spongy surface that gave slightly under his weight. The light was a sickly, phosphorescent green emanating from vein-like patterns in the fleshy, composite walls. The air was thick with humidity and the sharp, metallic scent of ozone.
He straightened, his silhouette cutting through the gloom just as Chloe dropped beside him. Her landing was less graceful—a stumble, a sharp intake of breath. He instinctively reached out, a hand finding her elbow to steady her. Her skin was cold. She nodded, her face pale but set. "I'm fine," she breathed, pulling her arm back, but her eyes were wide, scanning the impossible anatomy around them. "I can tackle this."
Then Marcus landed with a controlled grunt, Vivian with a shriek that echoed in the tubular space. Finally, Richie thudded down, his body rolling once before he pushed himself up, his face a mask of sullen, silent fury. He didn't look at anyone, just stared at the pulsing green wall, his jaw working as he mentally rehearsed curses aimed at the masked psychopath who had murdered his father.
They stood on a narrow, organic-looking ledge. Below them, filling the bottom of the colossal leg, was the river. It wasn't water. It was a churning, silvery mercury that moved with a sentient, muscular heave. It didn't flow; it breathed, its surface coiling and snapping like a bed of restless eels. The sound was a wet, hungry hiss.
User 'ChaosEnjoyer': And they're in! Place your bets! First one to cry for mommy!
User 'BallHog': My money's on the broken basketball player. He's already halfway there.
User 'GossipGoblin': Wait wait wait. Did you see how Carter grabbed Halvern's arm? That wasn't a 'we're in this together' grab. That was a 'you're mine' grab.
User 'MaskFan': Focus on the game, you degenerates. The architecture is magnificent.
Before they could process the horror below, the ledge lurched. A section directly under Vivian's feet retracted into the wall with a sound like tearing cartilage. She screamed, flailing backward.
Elijah moved. Not with frantic speed, but with a terrifying, preternatural economy. He was two steps away. He didn't run; he pivoted, his arm shooting out, his hand clamping around her wrist just as she began to fall. He yanked, not gently, hauling her back onto solid footing. She collapsed against his chest, sobbing. He held her for a second, his body a rigid barrier between her and the drop, his eyes still scanning the path ahead. "Don't look down," he said, his voice low and flat. "Look at me. Now, move." He gave her a slight push toward Chloe, who was already reaching for her.
User 'RomanceBot': OMG OMG Elijah x Vivian?? I SHIP IT.
User 'Cynic': Please. He's using her as a human shield. Classic trauma-bonding tactic.
User 'Vulture': I'm just here for the eventual slip.
The path revealed itself as a series of these organic ledges and protrusions, winding along the curved inner wall of the calf. Some were stable. Others quivered at a touch. Some were already retracting in a slow, sequential wave toward them—a cascading failure they had to outrun.
"Go! Single file! Don't stop!" Chloe commanded, taking the lead after Elijah. She moved with a gymnast's cautious balance, testing each foothold before committing.
Elijah went next, his movements a study in focused slowness. He wasn't fast, but he was absolute. Each foot placement was deliberate, his centre of gravity low and controlled. He didn't jump; he stepped across gaps with a measured, widening stride that spoke of ingrained muscle memory for treacherous terrain.
Behind him, Vivian shuffled, her breath a ragged whistle. Every retraction, every hiss from the river below made her flinch. She was a leaf in a hurricane.
Marcus followed her, his movements the opposite of Elijah's—quick, decisive, almost aggressive. He judged distances in a glance and took them, landing with a sharp, solid impact. He was playing a video game on the hardest setting, his face a mask of intense, pissed-off concentration.
Richie brought up the rear, his injured leg making him clumsy. He lurched rather than stepped, his athletic grace replaced by desperate, lumbering survival. He cursed under his breath with every jarring movement, a constant, guttural soundtrack of hate.
The river responded to their progress. As Chloe leaped a two-foot gap, a pseudopod of silver liquid lashed up from the depths, aiming for her ankles. She saw it in the periphery, tucking her legs mid-air. It missed, splattering against the wall with a sound like frying grease.
The challenge evolved. It wasn't just unstable footing. Now, from the opposite wall, bulbous, tumour-like growths began to extend on thick stalks. They pulsed with a dull red light. They didn't attack. They obstructed, swinging slowly into the path like malignant pendulums. Dodging them meant timing steps between the retracting ledges and the swinging obstacles, all while the hungry river hissed below.
Elijah navigated it like a dancer in a slow-motion nightmare. He ducked under a swinging growth, pressed his back against the wall as a ledge vanished where he'd just been standing, then sidestepped smoothly onto the next. His brow was furrowed, not in fear, but in deep, consuming thought. We can do this. This is just physics. Momentum, timing, fear as a variable to be discounted. The fury at the masked figure was a cold engine in his chest, powering his focus. Whoever you are. However you know about Cael. You will pay. But first… you had to get us here. You needed us. Why?
His internal monologue was cut short as Vivian, trying to duck a swinging growth, misjudged. Her foot came down on the very edge of a ledge that was already dissolving. It crumbled like wet cake.
She didn't even have time to scream. She just dropped.
Chloe, ahead of her, reacted not by looking, but by listening. She heard the crumble, the gasp. She spun on the narrow ledge she was on, a move of insane balance, and dropped to her knees, throwing her upper body back over the edge. Her arms shot out.
Vivian fell, but not far. Chloe's hands caught her under the armpits with a jolt that must have wrenched her shoulders. Vivian dangled, kicking at the air, a sob of pure terror strangling in her throat.
"I've got you!" Chloe gritted out, her muscles straining. She couldn't pull her up from that position. The ledge was too narrow.
Elijah, just ahead, stopped. He looked back, his calculations rerouting. Going back was more dangerous than going forward.
Marcus, behind Vivian, cursed. "Let her go! We can't stop!"
"Shut up, Marcus!" Chloe snarled, her face red with strain.
In one fluid, brutal motion, Chloe braced her knees against the ledge, ignored the tearing pain in her shoulders, and heaved. She didn't pull Vivian up onto the ledge. She used the last of her leverage to swing the sobbing girl sideways, away from the drop, and onto the next stable platform in the sequence—the one Elijah was standing on.
Vivian crashed into Elijah's legs, nearly taking them both over the edge. He staggered, windmilled his arms for a heart-stopping second, then found his balance, pushing Vivian firmly behind him against the wall. She slid down it, a boneless heap.
Chloe, now off-balance and exhausted, pushed herself back up. The ledge she was on gave a final, sickening shudder. It was next to retract.
"Jump!" Elijah barked.
Chloe didn't hesitate. She launched herself across the gap. It was too far. She wasn't going to make it.
Elijah's hand shot out again. Not to catch her wrist. As she flew toward him, he grabbed the front of her tank top, just below the collar, his fist closing on the fabric. It was an inelegant, desperate move. He used her momentum and his own anchored weight to pivot, swinging her around him like the pendulum they'd just avoided. She slammed into the wall next to Vivian, gasping, the fabric of her shirt stretched and torn at his grip.
For a second, they were a tangle of limbs and shock, pressed together in the green gloom, Elijah's forearm braced against the wall above them, his body shielding both women from the void. His face was inches from Chloe's, his breath coming in sharp gusts. Her eyes, wide and stunned, met his. There was no time for anything in that look—just shared survival, too raw to be anything else.
He pushed off immediately, turning back to the path. "Up. Now."
They moved on, a more bruised and battered unit. Marcus passed them with a searing glance. Richie lumbered past, not even looking.
They finally reached the end of the leg chamber. The ledges led to a wider, membranous platform that shuddered under their combined weight. Before them was a short, upward-sloping tunnel of ridged flesh and metal, leading into the darkness of the giant's torso.
The river's hiss faded behind them. The first trial was over.
They had escaped the current of attachment. But as they gathered on the trembling platform, staring into the next pitch-black ascent, the deep, grinding tick of a massive countdown clock echoed down from the darkness above.
45:00 began its inexorable descent.
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