Our rest was short. None of us wanted to stay near those things longer than we had to.

  We started down the corridor in silence until the path turned, revealing another stairwell that spiraled into the dark below. The steps were narrow, carved too clean for stone this old. Our footfalls echoed for several seconds before they began to fade, swallowed by the dark below.

  When we reached the landing, the sound of dripping water had ceased entirely. The stillness was so complete it made my ears ring.

  We’d reached the third floor.

  The Guild’s map said this dungeon stretched as deep as the ninth, although no one had ever made it that far. The further we went, the more it felt like we weren’t exploring ruins, but instead intruding on something never meant to be found.

  The hallway ahead gleamed under our lantern light. The walls weren’t stone anymore, not exactly. They were smooth and seamless, as if they’d been molded recently. Frost lined the edges in thin, perfect veins, tracing geometric shapes that reminded me of the sigils etched on cathedral walls.

  “This place is in oddly good shape for a dungeon,” Elaria murmured. Her voice came out quieter than usual.

  “It would seem that way,” Lira said, brushing her fingers along the cold surface. “Perhaps not many beasts make their way down here. Could’ve preserved the original architecture.”

  Merric snorted, his breath misting in the air.

  “However it happened, it’s creepy. Dungeons aren’t supposed to be this clean.”

  The echo of his voice lingered a heartbeat too long.

  After that, no one spoke.

  The only noise was the rhythm of our boots on the floor, a sound that felt too loud in the dead air. The deeper we moved, the more unnatural the silence felt. It wasn’t just the absence of sound, but the suppression of it—as if the air itself refused to carry noise.

  The walkway widened into a low-ceilinged chamber. Broken columns lay scattered across the floor like toppled gravestones, their edges softened by frost.

  At the center stretched a mural, faint but still vibrant beneath the dust. It depicted ships sailing toward a distant shore, their sails spread wide beneath a pale moon. Silver paint shimmered faintly where the lantern light caught it, giving the illusion of water rippling under the night sky.

  “What beautiful artwork,” Elaria said, crouching to trace one of the faded lines.

  “It must be a depiction of our ancestors arriving on Lunethra,” Lira murmured, brow furrowed. “Thousands of years ago, maybe. But…”

  She trailed off, studying the mural more closely.

  “The Church teaches that the Goddess of Light Aurelia delivered our ancestors safely to shore.”

  Merric tilted his head.

  “They’re being guided by the moonlight. What’s the problem?”

  “Aurelia is always shown with the sun,” Lira said. “Never the moon. This isn’t supposed to be her.”

  Her voice hung in the air a moment too long.

  Then the ground trembled.

  A faint vibration rippled beneath our boots, subtle at first—like distant thunder trapped below stone.

  “Did you feel that?” I asked, drawing my sword.

  Another tremor followed, sharper this time, shaking dust loose from the ceiling. The sound reverberated through the room, low and deep, until it faded into an uneasy silence.

  The next noise wasn’t from the ground.

  It came from the air—a high, piercing shriek that split through the chamber and knifed straight into my skull. The vibration turned violent, rattling my teeth. We all dropped instinctively, covering our ears, but the sound was everywhere.

  A dark shape burst from behind one of the crumbled columns.

  It wasn’t a beast.

  It was a shadow given form.

  The creature unfurled its wings, each span glinting with strings of shifting color that rippled like oil on water. Its body resembled a bat, but larger—easily the size of a large bear.

  The air around it shimmered.

  The sound it gave off wasn’t a roar—it was vibration made visible.

  It circled once overhead, then released another cry. The pressure slammed through the room like a shockwave. My knees hit the ground before I realized I’d fallen.

  The noise wasn’t just deafening—it was heavy, pushing against the lungs, flattening every sound we tried to make. My heart pounded like it was matching the rhythm of the creature’s scream.

  When it stopped, the silence that followed was worse.

  The thing hovered in the air, its black wings twitching as if they drank in the lantern light.

  Then it dove.

  The creature swung wide at Merric, claws slicing through the air. The edge scraped across his chestplate, tearing a deep groove through the metal. He staggered back, breath hissing through clenched teeth.

  This thing was fast—too fast.

  We closed ranks instantly, Elaria falling behind us while Merric took the front. She whispered a thread incantation, her hand glowing faintly as a wave of support Essence swept over us. The fatigue from the earlier floors slipped away like fog burned off by light.

  The creature’s head twitched.

  Its eyes—two molten rings of gold—widened as if it recognized the spell.

  Then it was gone.

  “Where’d it—” Merric started—

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  A thunderclap of movement cut him off.

  The Myrrow reappeared from the right, gliding inches above the ground. Its claws scythed toward Elaria’s throat.

  I lunged without thinking, grabbing her arm and yanking her against my chest. The wind from the strike grazed our faces, cold and sharp enough to sting.

  The creature soared past, then flipped in midair with a leathery crack of its wings. It vanished again, only to reappear from the left this time.

  Merric reacted first.

  He slammed his hammer to the ground, pulling threads through the earth. A slab of stone erupted upward, sealing the passage in front of us.

  The Myrrow crashed into it full force.

  Stone exploded outward.

  But when the dust cleared, it had punched straight through—unharmed.

  It came again, faster this time, claws slashing for Elaria’s side.

  Merric intercepted, hammer clanging against bone and talon. Sparks flew where metal met claw.

  “Is this thing targeting our healer?” I shouted, parrying another swipe that came too close for comfort.

  Lira spun beside me, weaving sigils with both hands. Three lances of water hissed through the air, striking like arrows—

  The creature twisted between them with impossible grace.

  The sigils shattered harmlessly against the ceiling.

  It was toying with us.

  The Myrrow circled high above, screeching once before diving again. Its attacks never landed anywhere except near Elaria—over and over, relentless, precise.

  Like it knew she was our lifeline.

  We couldn’t keep defending forever. Every strike pushed us a little further back.

  I forced myself to breathe, timing the rhythm of its dives. The creature’s pattern wasn’t random—it was predictable, if you watched close enough.

  I tightened my grip on my sword and waited.

  When it came again, low and fast, I moved.

  I wove a noose of flame midair, the threads spinning around my hand before releasing in a bright, burning line. At the same moment, I yanked Elaria out of its path.

  The rope of fire caught the Myrrow cleanly around the neck.

  The hiss of burning flesh filled the chamber.

  It screamed and jerked upward, nearly dragging me off my feet. I dug in, Essence surging through my limbs as I anchored my boots into the stone. The tension in the thread burned against my palms, heat crawling up my arms.

  With a roar, I heaved—using every ounce of augmented strength—and swung the flaming line over my shoulder.

  The creature slammed into the floor hard enough to shake the chamber. Dust exploded outward, swallowing everything in gray.

  “Now!” I shouted.

  Lira dropped to one knee, slamming her palms down. Ice threads rippled across the ground, freezing in concentric lines until the Myrrow’s wings were encased in frost. Its movements slowed, breath visible in sharp bursts of vapor.

  Merric charged forward, hammer raised for the killing blow.

  Then the sound came.

  A piercing shriek ripped through the air, sharper than before, raw enough to tear the breath from my lungs.

  We all doubled over.

  Hands clamped to ears.

  The pitch climbed.

  The ice exploded into glittering shards, freeing the creature.

  It lashed out before Merric could recover.

  The claw struck deep into his thigh—metal and flesh alike.

  Merric screamed, stumbling backward, hammer slipping from his grasp as he fell. Blood darkened the frost underfoot.

  The Myrrow shot upward, wings beating hard enough to send cracks through the ceiling. It hovered near the top of the chamber, glowing veins pulsing beneath its translucent skin.

  I swore I could see fury—no, thought—behind its eyes.

  Elaria scrambled to Merric’s side, already shaping a healing weave.

  The Myrrow dove again.

  I sprinted forward to intercept—

  A blast of compressed sound slammed into my chest, hurling me backward into a column. Pain flared down my ribs.

  Lira stepped up, summoning water sigils for cover.

  The creature shrieked again.

  Her threads disintegrated midair, scattering like mist.

  “Her sigils—!” I shouted, trying to weave a counter—

  My own threads sputtered out as soon as they formed.

  The Myrrow swooped past us, claws raking Elaria’s shoulder.

  Blood sprayed across the mural on the floor.

  “Elaria!” I screamed.

  Lira darted in, short sword flashing, forcing the creature back with a desperate strike that cut through one of its wing membranes.

  The Myrrow hissed—but didn’t fall.

  It climbed higher, circling us, shrieking as if mocking the effort.

  Lira knelt beside Elaria, helping her to the ground. The healer’s face was pale, her left arm slick with blood. She pressed a trembling hand over the wound, trying to force a healing weave through it.

  Merric groaned nearby, clutching his leg while Lira tore a strip of cloth to slow the bleeding.

  I stood shakily, still catching my breath.

  The creature hovered above, wings pulsing with strange light.

  Whatever it was doing—it wasn’t just sound.

  It was bending Essence itself.

  Unraveling our threads before they could form.

  And somehow, it knew exactly what it was doing.

  The Myrrow circled above, its shrieks turning into a steady hum that made the air throb. Dust rained from the ceiling as the sound bounced between the stone columns, building on itself until it felt like the entire chamber was vibrating.

  I pressed a hand to my temple, wincing as another pulse hit. Every time it screamed, the threads around us shimmered and broke apart—like the very air was tearing them down.

  Then it clicked.

  It wasn’t just making sound.

  It was using it.

  The creature was rebounding its frequency off the walls and the ceiling, turning the room itself into a resonance chamber. The columns were acting like amplifiers, each one bouncing the vibration back into us.

  It wasn’t killing our threads directly.

  It was canceling them out.

  I tried to cast again.

  Nothing.

  The sound hit like a wall each time, scattering my threads before they could hold shape.

  “Think,” I told myself, pressing a hand to the floor. The vibration crawled up through my fingers, angry, alive.

  It wasn’t just loud; it was directional, bouncing off every column and ceiling arch until it came back twice as strong.

  The whole room was built to feed it.

  My breath came short, chest tight. There had to be a way to drown it—to make the air stop carrying the sound.

  But how?

  The next wave hit, and my mind flashed white.

  Buried snow.

  Dead quiet.

  The world muted to nothing.

  “Lira!” I shouted over the ringing. “It’s using the room!”

  She blinked at me through the haze.

  “What?”

  “The sound—it’s reflecting! The walls are amplifying the frequency and disrupting our sigils!”

  Her eyes widened, understanding dawning—

  The next screech drowned everything out.

  I hit the ground, clutching my head. The vibration crawled through my skull like claws.

  There had to be a way to stop it.

  To mute the sound.

  Mute… sound.

  A memory flashed through the noise—snow falling heavily one winter back home, me shouting for help and hearing nothing but the muffled beat of my own heart.

  I’d been buried halfway under.

  Couldn’t even hear my mother yelling right beside me.

  Snow kills sound.

  “Lira!” I forced the words through gritted teeth. “Cover the floor—snow! As much as you can!”

  She stared at me for half a second, confused.

  Then nodded sharply.

  She dropped to her knees.

  Her hands slammed against the ground.

  The water threads she called twisted and burst into vapor before collapsing into flakes, tumbling in thick white waves that blanketed the floor.

  The effect was immediate.

  The next shriek came out warped, thinner—its echo died the moment it hit the snow.

  The air didn’t carry the vibration anymore.

  The sound just… stopped.

  The Myrrow faltered midair, its wings jittering in confusion.

  “Now!” I yelled.

  Lira rose and swept her arm in a wide arc.

  The snow surged upward, freezing midair into jagged shards that tore through the creature’s path.

  One caught its left wing.

  Ice spread from the impact point outward, locking bone and membrane in place.

  The Myrrow screamed again—but the snow ate the sound before it could spread.

  It dropped, crashing into the mural with enough force to send cracks spidering across the painted shoreline.

  I was already moving.

  My sword flared with heat as I gathered the last of my Essence, the metal glowing faintly orange.

  The creature writhed, trying to tear itself free, but its left wing was frozen solid, pinned to the ground by ice and snow.

  Its golden eyes locked on me.

  For a second, I swore I saw understanding there.

  Then I drove the blade through its chest.

  The sound that followed wasn’t a shriek.

  It was a sigh.

  Low and hollow.

  Fading as the light in its body flickered out.

  The vibration in the air died with it.

  Silence.

  Real silence this time.

  The kind that doesn’t press or hum or tremble.

  I stood there, chest heaving, as frost settled around the corpse. Steam curled from my blade before vanishing into the cold.

  Lira lowered her hands slowly.

  Elaria was still on the ground, pale but alive.

  Merric lay beside her, his leg bound.

  No one spoke.

  The only sound left was our breathing.