“Mira?” His voice came out flat, absorbed instantly by the void. No echo. As if the darkness was a sponge.
Mira grabbed Leo’s wrist. “Now!”
Now there was only the dark.
She was alive. Kneeling on the stone floor, the massive lantern beside her, unlit. In her hands, she held a match. Her face was calm, almost serene, as if she’d been waiting.
The world exploded.
“Light the lantern,” he gasped.
The last thing Leo remembered was the sun. A brutish, late-afternoon sun that hammered down on the cracked asphalt of the parking lot. He’d been arguing with Mira about the flashlight—she’d said bring it, he’d said his phone was enough. Then the ground gave way. Not a metaphor. A genuine, horizontal split in the earth that opened like a hungry mouth and swallowed him whole. Into pitch black
“Next time,” he agreed, “I’m staying home.”
Light—real, roaring, daylight-mimicking light—filled the chamber. The creature shrieked across dimensions, unraveling like a ribbon of smoke. The tunnel walls cracked. The ceiling rained dust and roots. “Mira