Falling didn't feel like falling at first. It felt like being swallowed. The earth opened under us with no warning, no shift of soil, no cracking roots—just a sudden drop and darkness closing around everything.
Addison screamed. I didn't even have air for that. One second we were running, the next the ground vanished and gravity yanked us down a steep slope hidden under the brush.
Dirt scraped my arms. Rocks cut into my palms. Branches whipped past my face. The world spun in a blur of dark shapes and cold air. I tried to grab something—anything—but there was nothing solid enough to stop me.
Before I could brace myself, my body slammed onto flat ground.
I lay there, gasping, the impact ringing through my bones.
Somewhere beside me, Addison hit the ground hard and groaned. "Are you… alive?"
"Unfortunately," I rasped.
A thin beam of gray light trickled down from the hole we'd fallen through. It wasn't far above us, but not close enough to climb without gear. The drop was deeper than it looked—maybe fifteen feet, maybe more. Roots dangled from the opening like twisted fingers, dripping dirt.
Addison pushed herself upright. "We dropped into a hollow."
"A what?"
"A natural pit. The Ridge is full of them. Some go on for miles."
"Great."
She listened, holding her breath. I followed her lead.
Up above… silence.
The hunter's roar was gone.
The mimic's hush of footsteps gone too.
I didn't trust that for a second.
"Do you think they can reach us down here?" I whispered.
"No," Addison said. "But that doesn't mean we're safe."
I sat up slowly, rubbing the dirt from my arms. The hollow stretched out in a narrow tunnel leading deeper into the earth. The air was cold and damp, smelling like moss and minerals and something metallic underneath.
A faint drip echoed from somewhere far inside.
"Where does that lead?" I asked.
"Into the Ridge," she said. "The old part. The part nobody goes into."
"That's supposed to make me feel better?"
"It shouldn't."
I glanced toward the tunnel again. The darkness felt thick—like a living thing breathing in the cold air.
"We can't stay here," Addison whispered. "If the watcher saw us fall, it'll remember. And it'll wait."
"It'll wait for what?"
"For the hunter."
A shiver ran through me. "You said they avoid this part."
"They avoid going into the hollow. Not waiting by the entrance."
"So we're stuck."
"For now," she admitted. "But there's only one direction we can go."
She pointed down the dark tunnel.
I stared at her. "You want to go deeper?"
"Do you want to go back up?" She gestured toward the hole above us. "If either one is waiting up there, the second you climb out, it's over."
The word "over" hung between us. Heavy. Sharp. Final.
"Okay," I said quietly. "We go down."
Addison stepped toward the tunnel first. I followed, brushing dirt from my clothes as we moved. The ground sloped slightly downward as we walked. The walls were made of packed earth, roots twisting through them like veins. The air grew colder, the smell sharper.
Our footsteps echoed.
"So," I whispered, "what else haven't you told me?"
Addison sighed. "Too much."
"You keep mentioning rules. Old rules. What are they?"
She kept walking. "The Ridge is older than the town. My family believes the creatures were here long before humans settled. The watcher and the hunter aren't the only things out here. They're just the ones people are unlucky enough to meet."
"What do they… want?"
"They protect the Ridge," she said. "That's what the stories say. They guard the boundary. And they destroy whatever crosses it without permission."
"So I broke a rule I didn't know existed?"
"Yes."
"How is that fair?"
"It's not." She paused. "But they don't care about fair."
The tunnel narrowed ahead. The light behind us shrank until it was only a fading circle in the distance.
A soft scraping sound echoed through the passage.
We both froze.
"Did you hear that?" I whispered.
Addison nodded slowly and looked back the way we came. "It wasn't behind us."
The scrape came again—
farther ahead.
Something was already in the tunnel.
My heart lurched. "Addison—"
"Wait." She held up a hand. "Listen."
We held our breath.
Another scrape.
Closer.
Dragging.
Slow.
Like something pulling its weight across stone.
Addison stepped backward, grabbing my arm.
"That's not the watcher," she whispered. "And it's not the hunter."
"Then what is it?"
"Something older," she breathed. "We need to move."
She pulled me forward, deeper into the tunnel, even though every instinct I had screamed at me to run the other way.
As we hurried, the air grew colder. The walls dripped moisture. The tunnel widened slightly, enough for us to stand side by side.
The scraping didn't stop.
It echoed steadily behind us, like a slow heartbeat.
Drag. Drag. Pause.
Drag. Drag. Pause.
I tried not to imagine what kind of creature moved that way.
Addison whispered, "It's following the sound of our steps."
"So we're leading it right to us."
"I know."
Her voice was tight with fear, but controlled. Addison wasn't the panicking type. That scared me more than anything else.
The tunnel forked ahead—two passages splitting in opposite directions.
"Left," Addison said.
"How do you know?"
"I don't," she admitted. "But right feels worse."
Not encouraging.
Before I could argue, she tugged me left. The path narrowed again, roof lowering until we had to duck. The scraping behind us grew louder now, more uneven. Whatever followed us was picking up speed.
Addison whispered, "Don't run. It hunts fast movement."
I nodded, though every muscle in my body wanted to sprint.
The tunnel straightened again, widening into a space just large enough to stand fully upright. A faint glow flickered ahead—pale blue, like moonlight trapped underground.
We stepped into the light.
And stopped.
The cavern opened wide, ceiling lost in shadow. Water dripped from above into a shallow pool that reflected the strange blue glow. Something glimmered on the far side—stone, carved and stacked into a crude archway.
Addison's breath hitched. "I didn't know this was here."
"What is it?"
"I don't know," she whispered. "But it feels… wrong."
Before I could answer—
The scraping stopped.
Silence fell.
Addison's eyes widened. "That's worse."
We backed toward the cavern entrance, listening hard. No scraping. No footsteps. Nothing.
"Maybe it left," I whispered.
"No." Addison shook her head. "It's close. Hiding."
As if answering her, the ground trembled softly.
Then—
A shape slid into the cavern entrance.
I couldn't see its full body. Just a long, pale limb stretching across the dirt, fingers too long, too thin, ending in points like sharpened bone.
Addison grabbed my hand.
But neither of us moved.
The creature's head followed the limb—stretching out, emerging only far enough for its face to show in the dim blue light.
It didn't have eyes.
Just two smooth hollows where eyes should've been.
And a mouth that opened slowly, splitting wider and wider until it reached the sides of its head.
Addison whispered, terrified—
"No. No. Not that. Not down here."
The eyeless creature leaned forward…
…and raised its head toward us.
Then it spoke.
Not in a voice.
In a whisper scraped across stone.
"Marked."