The air in the Abyssfall was thick.

  It wasn’t like the air above, crisp and full of life. Down here, it felt heavy. Like it was pressing against Wren’s chest, refusing to let him breathe freely. Each step further into the tunnel seemed to amplify the silence around him, the only sound being the crunch of boots on the rock floor.

  Talin, who was beside him, didn’t seem to mind it. His hand rested comfortably on the hilt of his axe, the sharp edge gleaming faintly in the dim light of their crystal torches. Talin had the air of a seasoned fighter—confident, unbothered by the unfamiliar. But even he had started to notice the way the air seemed to watch them, as if the dungeon itself was alive, waiting for them to make a mistake.

  “Keep your wits sharp,” Talin said over his shoulder, his voice rough. “There’s no telling what’s down here.”

  Wren nodded, his fingers twitching near the hilts of his daggers. He didn’t need to speak to convey the weight of his thoughts. He was already keenly aware of the danger. But there was something else, something deeper, gnawing at him.

  The deeper they went, the less his heart pounded from fear—and the more it pounded from anticipation.

  Why am I here?

  The question haunted him, creeping into his thoughts like a shadow.

  He didn’t know. He only knew that whatever it was, it was tied to this place.

  He hadn’t come just to survive, like everyone else. He had come to understand why he couldn’t shake the feeling that the Abyssfall was connected to something bigger than him. Something ancient. Something… meant for him.

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  The tunnel widened up ahead, revealing a large cavern, its ceiling lost in the darkness above. The walls shimmered with the same strange crystals that had illuminated their descent. But now, there were other things glowing—farther down, deeper into the cavern. Flecks of red, orange, and violet.

  “Treasure,” Talin murmured, eyes gleaming. But his voice was low, cautious.

  Wren’s eyes narrowed. Something didn’t feel right.

  The ground beneath them seemed to vibrate faintly, and then—there it was. The sound.

  It was soft at first, like whispers, too faint to catch. Then louder. The scraping of claws against stone.

  Wren’s heart stopped.

  “Talin,” he whispered, stepping back. “We’re not alone.”

  Talin’s face twisted into a grin, though it was one that didn’t reach his eyes. “Of course we’re not. Welcome to the Abyssfall.”

  A flash of movement to the left. Wren’s instinct kicked in, and he spun, both daggers drawn in a fluid motion.

  There, emerging from the shadows, were things—disfigured, their bodies long and thin, skin stretched too tight over their bones. Their eyes were bright—red, glowing with hunger. Their mouths opened wide, sharp teeth glistening in the dim light.

  “Grimlings,” Talin spat, unsheathing his axe. “First floor’s easy. These guys are just cannon fodder.”

  Wren didn’t reply. His body was already moving before he even had time to think. He darted forward, the tips of his daggers cutting through the air, slashing at the nearest Grimling’s throat. The creature let out a shrill screech before crumpling to the ground.

  The second one lunged at him, but Wren was faster. He twisted, narrowly dodging its claws, and buried one of his blades deep into its chest. It spasmed and fell.

  The third one charged Talin.

  Wren reacted without thinking. He hurled one of his daggers toward the creature, the blade slicing through the air with terrifying precision. It embedded itself in the Grimling’s skull, sending it crashing to the ground.

  Talin turned to him, eyes wide. “Damn, you’ve got some moves. You sure you’re new here?”

  Wren didn’t answer. His heart was still racing, but it wasn’t from fear anymore. He felt something else—a pull, a hunger, like the battle had stirred something inside of him. Something that had been dormant, waiting.

  They stood in the cavern for a moment, the air thick with tension. The bodies of the Grimlings littered the floor. Wren’s chest heaved, but his gaze never left the deeper shadows of the cavern.

  “I don’t trust this place,” Wren said quietly, voice tense.

  Talin glanced at him, his expression unreadable. “Don’t trust it? Kid, trust nothing in here. If you want to survive, you need to get comfortable with that.”

  Wren clenched his fists, feeling the weight of the daggers in his hands. He had a long way to go. But for the first time, it felt like he was walking down the right path. The path that led him to answers.

  The path that would lead him to the heart of the Abyssfall.