The stone stairs spiraled downward, tighter and colder with each step. The torch Peter held cast flickering shadows that danced across the carved stone walls. The air grew heavier, and the scent of damp earth and forgotten time clung to their skin.
"Keep moving," Jack whispered. "But step carefully."
The passage grew narrower as they descended. The walls were no longer smooth—they were marked. Ancient symbols, runes no one recognized, were etched into the stone, glowing faintly with bluish light as they passed.
Tom ran a hand across one. "This wasn't just a tunnel. This was built for something."
Susan knelt to inspect a symbol near the base of the wall. "Protection spells. Very old. Maybe First Era. Someone wanted to keep people out… or something in."
"Can we not talk about creepy things being trapped down here?" Lucy muttered, gripping Marcus's cloak. "Seriously."
Marcus smirked. "Afraid of ghosts?"
"No. Of you triggering a trap like always."
He rolled his eyes, but slowed his pace.
The staircase finally opened into a wide chamber, its ceiling stretching high above them and lost in shadow. Seven stone paths branched out like the spokes of a wheel. At the center of the chamber stood a single pedestal — and on it, a smooth, black stone that pulsed gently, almost like it was breathing.
Peter stepped forward. "That's either really cool… or really cursed."
Jack raised his torch, scanning the far walls. "This is a convergence point. A hub. These paths must lead deeper underground."
Tom approached the pedestal. "The stone's humming. Like it's waiting for something."
Susan frowned. "It feels… alive."
Lucy circled the stone, eyes narrowed. "It's not dangerous… yet. But it knows we're here."
Kitty moved toward one of the paths. "There's writing on this wall — I think it's names."
The others gathered, brushing away centuries of dust. Carved into the stone were seven names — in a language none of them had studied, but somehow… understood.
Jack. Kitty. Marcus. Tom. Peter. Susan. Lucy.
Each child stared at the wall in stunned silence.
"That's impossible," Susan whispered.
"They were carved centuries ago," Frank's voice said calmly.
The group spun around.
A figure stepped out of the shadows at the edge of the chamber. He was tall, maybe their age, maybe older, with jet-black hair that shimmered faintly under the torchlight. His eyes were a strange mix of colors — one green, one grey — and he carried no torch, yet seemed to glow faintly himself.
"Who—" Tom began.
"My name is Frank Lauren," the boy said. "I've been waiting for you."
They stood frozen for a moment.
Peter raised his torch higher. "You've been… waiting? How do you know our names?"
Frank looked at the wall again. "Because this was all written before any of us were born. This place… chose you."
Lucy stepped forward, cautious. "Are you the one who opened the hatch?"
"No," Frank said. "I just followed the signs. Like you did. But the signs… were clearer for me."
Marcus scowled. "Why should we trust you?"
Frank didn't flinch. "Because if you don't… you'll all be dead in the next ten minutes."
The ground shook violently beneath their feet.
Dust rained from the ceiling. One of the stone paths cracked open, and from the darkness came a low, guttural growl.
Tom stepped forward, fists clenched. "What was that?"
Frank turned toward the path, his voice steady. "Something that should have stayed asleep. Follow me if you want to survive."
Without waiting, he darted down one of the paths — not the cracked one, but one marked with a faded symbol glowing faintly gold.
The others hesitated.
Then Jack cursed under his breath. "I say we follow the glowing stranger. Beats getting eaten."
They ran.
Behind them, the cracked path split wider, and from its depth crawled a figure — hunched, steaming, bones jutting from its skin, eyes burning with primal hunger.
As they disappeared into the gold-lit tunnel, the chamber behind them collapsed in a roar of dust and ancient screams.