No echo. No shuffle. Just gone.
He strained his ears. Heard nothing but the distant drip of water. Then another. Like something was breathing, far down the tunnel.
Or waiting.
He killed the flame.
Not out of fear. Just instinct.
He let his fingers hover near the hilt of his sword instead, body low, breath quiet.
Behind him, Ren moved like a ghost. Ardan stayed where he was, anchoring the others with silence and posture alone.
No one said a word.
The cave didn't creak again.
But the weight of something unseen hung in the air like a coat he didn't remember putting on.
Lindarion squinted into the dark.
Still nothing.
But the steps had been real.
Something was down there.
The tension continued to crack like a dropped plate.
Not from an attack. Not from screaming.
From the soft, very deliberate click of tiny claws against stone.
Lindarion blinked.
The darkness ahead wasn't threatening anymore. It was… waddling.
