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The Cave that Whispers

  They had only begun to scale the mountain when the dead army caught up. The knight welcomed the smell, and the repulsion that came with it.

  Loose stone crunched and slid beneath the knight’s feet. The grade was gentle, and a visible cave entrance lay just ahead. To his left, past the mountain, the knight could make out the kingdom clearly. Its walls looked to be perfectly circular, and its interior tightly packed and free of curses. Not only inside the wall, but a fair patch of land outside the wall was also clear. Green grass grew within the space.

  He longed for its safety.

  “Here,” the Question said, pointing to the cave as they approached.

  The knight sat instead, looking out over the valley as he caught his breath. Held within, the kingdom lived beneath the warm light of day. He closed his eyes and let the memory of the feeling find him. It ran over his body, kissing his skin.

  He smiled.

  He sighed.

  Numbness consumed him. The thought of that dungeon—of what he’d done. How she’d still be alive if he’d kept his distance. If he’d only rejected her.

  If only he could take it back.

  “Your answers wait,” the Question interrupted.

  The knight opened his eyes and stood.

  “Yes,” he said, shoulders slumped and trudging to the entrance.

  He could see, stark against the dark, calcium or quartz deposits lining the cave in jagged rows. However, once he’d come within a close enough distance, the cave slammed shut—collapsing from the top down.

  “Leave the lantern,” the Question said.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “This cave is alive, and your lantern is not welcome.”

  “The crown, it is in this living cave?”

  “Through,” it replied.

  Reluctant, the knight stepped back until the cave reopened. He set his lantern down, then walked back to the entrance.

  Closer, he could see patches of faint glowing green.

  “What is this?” the knight said, kneeling and reaching for a glowing patch. It looked like moss that had devoured the night sky, light pulsing beneath a thin membrane.

  “Crawling death,” the Question said.

  His hand stopped short of touching it, and he stood.

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  “Dangerous, I suppose,” he said.

  The Question nodded, then gestured to the cave.

  “I’ll follow you,” the knight said, eyeing it suspiciously.

  The Question turned and went in.

  The knight followed—his army at his side.

  Once inside, his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit space. The jagged white stone jutting out from all sides most clear among the eerie green of the crawling death and the flickering blue of his sword.

  He used it as his guide.

  “How deep?” he asked.

  “Deep enough,” the Question’s voice echoed.

  It wasn’t long before he heard them.

  Voices came from every direction.

  The knight stopped, turned, and readied his blade. His army formed a tight circle around him.

  “Whispers,” the Question said. “Nothing more.”

  The knight eased his guard and his army floated loose from him.

  “What do they say?” he asked.

  “That is for you to know,” it replied and continued forward.

  The stone beneath his feet trembled with each step, and the knight couldn’t help but wonder what curse this place held.

  The whispers continued, swelling and incoherent. The glow of moss joined them.

  Until.

  Knight.

  It came to him sharp and swift.

  He froze, but only for a step.

  Another followed, smaller.

  Eight.

  Whispers cut through him. Many he could not understand, though the words were clear. Others meant for him alone.

  He learned without you.

  He cut without steel.

  Something tore loose behind his eyes, blurring his vision.

  Lavender breath.

  It was those he heard last.

  Violently, the voices came undone—words torn into silence.

  “Hurry,” the Question said, taking flight and leaving the knight.

  Behind him, a sound came with cadence—deep and troubling.

  This knowledge was meant to remain buried.

  The ground trembled, and the knight lost his footing.

  Up close, he could see—the white stones, teeth.

  He jumped to his feet and chased after the Question.

  Unsteady stone rumbled with each distant crash, growing closer with time. Soon, he felt the air rushing at his back after each crushing boom. He dared not look back.

  The ground sloped downward.

  He stumbled—foot catching on tooth.

  As the knight rolled, he felt a stinging on his skin as the blue-green painted dark swirled in his vision. Stone caught him. The cave behind him closed, crushing his foot. Pain shot through his leg as he fell. He wailed as he pulled his leg free but quickly muted the pain beneath his practiced breath.

  Sparse dead soldiers hovered around him—no more than fifteen.

  Knowledge sat with him—broken, but clear.

  He could not know whether they spoke lies, nor could he deny his heart beating for truth. It pulled, threatening to unravel him. He held fast, fist gripped tight over his chest, resisting the flood of tears.

  Crawling death blistered his skin. He ran the edge of his blade against it, burning it off.

  Next, he raised his sword and hacked at the stone in three screaming swipes, freeing his severed foot. He pulled the mangled thing loose and set it on the ground, then stood, pressing his wounded limb against it. Raw agony roared through him, stoking a flame ignited by words.

  He walked before it could heal. Each step atonement for what he’d done wrong and promise to set it right.

  He followed the cave until he found the Question waiting at its opening.

  Past the Question, the soft green glow stretched out in a cavern large enough to fit a castle. He could not see what hid in the darkness, but he advanced.

  “Where is this crown?” he asked, shoving past the Question. “Show me.”

  A sound, like falling coin, shifted through the space.

  “Quietly,” the Question said.

  He followed the Question as they moved through the darkness. It wasn’t long before the light of his blade revealed a single coin. A few more steps brought more coins and jewels, until he found his feet sliding on them in loose piles. The sound was inescapable.

  A flash of orange in the distance stole his attention.

  “Too late,” the Question said before vanishing into the dark.

  The knight readied his sword, what remained of his army positioned themselves as a shield.

  “I’m not afraid,” he shouted. “Show yourself!”

  “So eager to die,” a voice slithered through the dark.

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