QUICK RECAP-
Arthur, Adam, and Ruby battle the Blood Cave's horrors—sentient fog, acid worms, and a Vispen, a serpent warped beyond recognition.
When the 450-foot beast attacks, Adam's Hydro-Volt and Ruby's Light buy a desperate escape.
The cave herds them deeper into a hollow where black water folds like living shadow.
As they flee, the Vispen corners Adam—until Ruby's shield shatters, Arthur intervenes, and Adam barely drags them to safety.
The chapter ends with the creature's furious hiss echoing behind them… and the trio realizing: this cave isn't just alive.
It's hungry.
-RECAP ENDS
The serpent's maw opened.
Four eyes locked onto Adam like it had already claimed him. Its coils writhed in unnatural rhythm—movement faster than weight should allow. The pond hissed behind it, acidic vapors trailing from venom-dripping fangs.
Adam ran.
The tunnel was close—just ahead. Twenty feet. Eighteen.
The Vispen surged forward, mass smashing against rock, teeth wide and aimed for Adam's back.
And Ruby cast.
Her glyph pulsed violently—52% Ether charge igniting to full flare. She didn't hesitate. Didn't scream.
Just thrust her palm forward.
A layer of light erupted—flat, sharp, clean—a barricade between Adam and the beast, glowing with tension so high it vibrated like static.
The venom struck.
It bounced.
Reflected in thin slivers across the serpent's flank—not enough to harm it, but enough to offend.
And Ruby staggered.
Her gauge dropped.
52% became 46%.
Blood surged from her nose, thick and dark as the shield fragmented from the impact.
Adam didn't wait.
He leapt through the glowing fracture, boots scraping stone as the tunnel came within reach.
The Vispen didn't slow.
It screamed.
Ruby's shield burst like splintered glass, Ether shards raining into the mist.
Adam ducked instinctively—
And Arthur lunged.
Sword drawn, stride too fast, breath too sharp.
Arthur didn't slash.
He intercepted.
He threw himself between Adam and the serpent's wrath, raising his blade not in power, but in protection.
The impact was immediate.
And brutal.
The Vispen didn't flinch.
It struck back.
One thick coil whipped across Arthur's side, catching him mid-guard and launching him into the air. His sword spun loose from his grip, clattering against the edge of the tunnel lip.
Arthur flew.
Cracked against a pillar of stone.
Then dropped.
Ruby screamed.
Adam turned.
"Arthur!"
But the Vispen lunged again.
Adam's glyph spun.
Hydro surged beneath Arthur's crumpled form—violent, erratic, barely controlled.
Mist rose.
Water formed a lift beneath his body, cushioning him just enough to stop a second impact.
Adam clenched his fist and dragged.
Arthur's body slid toward the entrance, limp but alive.
Adam dove, grabbing Arthur's shoulder just as the serpent's jaw expanded again.
They tumbled inside.
A breath too late.
The Vispen's head rammed against the tunnel mouth with seismic pressure, four eyes narrowed, teeth gleaming, furious.
The stone around the entrance cracked.
But didn't break.
The tunnel was tight—twisted to fit human frames, not leviathans.
The serpent hissed—a guttural scream born from heat and insult.
It struck again.
And failed.
Inside, the trio collapsed in motion.
Arthur groaned faintly as Adam propped him up.
Ruby fell against the left tunnel wall, shielding her glyph with shaking fingers.
Her dome flickered.
Too low.
Her breath too thin.
But the serpent couldn't reach them.
Its head rammed once more—teeth catching the frame—but the entry didn't yield.
The Hollow didn't offer second chances.
Ruby checked her glyph:
46%.
Burned. Flickering. Veins pulsing black around her wrist.
Adam slumped beside Arthur, laughing—
Once.
But it cracked.
The bravado didn't land this time.
"That was… close," he gasped.
Arthur blinked blearily.
"You think?"
Ruby didn't respond.
Her blood was drying across her mouth. Her fingers trembled. The black pulse in her glyph faded slowly—but it had appeared. Even if just for a moment.
She noticed.
So did Arthur.
Neither said it.
Behind them, the Vispen roared again—a hiss like a collapsing cathedral.
It wasn't rage.
It was offense.
It couldn't fit.
And it knew it.
The serpent twisted, recoiled, slammed the wall again—
And the tunnel watched.
They didn't linger.
The trio moved deeper into the passage, breaths shallow, boots scraping against uneven stone.
The tunnel narrowed further—barely enough room for Arthur to walk upright. Ruby's shield scraped light against the rock above, sparking small flashes.
Mist dripped from the ceiling.
Not condensation.
Just mood.
The Hollow didn't just breathe.
It shifted.
Behind them, stone reformatted slightly—edges curving into soft, slanted angles.
The cave was rearranging itself.
Not sealing them in.
Just amused.
"Keep moving," Ruby said softly, voice fraying at the edge.
Arthur limped beside her.
Adam whispered, "This cave isn't a prison."
Arthur glanced sideways. "Then what?"
Adam didn't smile this time.
"An experiment."
Ruby's shield flickered again—
And didn't flare.
Adam checked his glyph.
Still charged—but dimming.
Arthur pressed his hand to the tunnel wall.
It pulsed once beneath his fingers.
Not Ether.
Not heat.
Just intent.
And for a moment—just a breath—he swore the rock moved.
They weren't chased anymore.
But they weren't free.
Not yet.
Not even close.
The Hollow just let them think they had won.
Arthur's steps slowed.
Not in defeat.
In calculation.
"We've been down here two hours," he muttered, glancing at a hairline crack in his wrist glyph.
Adam narrowed his eyes. "You can measure that?"
"No. But I can feel my heartbeat syncing with the cave. That's a problem."
Ruby didn't respond.
She walked a few paces behind now. Her Light Shield barely shimmered—a fragile glint spiraling around her in loose waves. Her breathing was shallow. Her arm trembled slightly with each pulse.
Arthur turned.
"We need to move faster. Time isn't our ally."
Adam nodded, then hesitated—eyes lingering on Ruby.
He didn't say anything.
But something twisted in his gut. A flicker of guilt.
Not because she was struggling.
Because he'd assumed she was lying.
They kept walking.
The cave bent again—stone walls curving unnaturally, closing in before pulling back. The floor sloped downward, slick with moisture and dotted with the remnants of blood worms long crushed into sludge.
Swamp territory again.
Ether pressure rose gently.
Not enough to choke.
Just enough to remind.
Ruby's nose dripped once more—black first, then red. She wiped it with her sleeve, smearing both colors across her jawline.
Arthur didn't stop.
Adam kept glancing at her between steps.
He remembered the accusation he'd thrown at her hours earlier.
"You have another reason. You're not doing this for James."
And now—
She could barely walk.
Still shielding them.
Still quiet.
He clenched his jaw and looked ahead.
They weren't allies yet.
But maybe…
She didn't deserve suspicion.
Maybe she just deserved survival.
The tunnel didn't curve this time.
It opened.
Abruptly.
Not with collapse, but invitation.
They stepped out from the shrunken tunnel into something wider—a hollow again, but this time crafted with intent.
Not eroded. Not warped.
Designed.
The entrance to the next chamber was visible from where they stood—maybe 300 meters across. It wasn't just a cavity. It was grand. Pillar-like stone rose to meet twisted arches. Moss trailed from the ceiling like old veins.
The air shimmered faintly.
There was motion in it.
Ether drifted not as fog, but as ink.
And then—
They saw it.
The spider.
White.
Huge.
Five meters high even when hunched.
Its legs weren't smooth—they were stitched.
Not biologically, not naturally.
The bones that formed each leg were warped and reattached with some form of thick sinew—human femurs, rib cages, arm bones, twisted into arachnid symmetry.
Its abdomen glistened like pulped wax.
Its eyes—
Six.
All too familiar.
One bore the gleam of a soldier glyph.
Another had faint scar tissue in the shape of a War of Chains rank sigil.
The spider wasn't just a beast.
It was made from memory.
From prisoners.
From people.
Ruby staggered backward.
Arthur raised a hand.
"Don't run."
Adam gritted his teeth. "I hate this cave."
Arthur turned to the two of them.
"We kill it."
Ruby blinked. "You just saw its legs."
"I also saw it hesitate at the glyph on the floor."
Adam looked down.
A faint marking—barely a circle—sat etched into the stone twenty feet ahead.
The spider had moved around it.
Arthur continued.
"I go in front. Keep its attention. Adam—blast water under its legs. Disrupt footing. Ruby—burn it with light when it rears."
Ruby nodded faintly.
Adam didn't speak.
But his glyph spun.
The spider didn't wait for more planning.
It charged.
Quiet.
Fast.
The legs clicked like breaking wood, slicing stone beneath with unnatural grace.
Arthur moved.
No Ether.
Just metal.
He rushed forward, shield raised, blade gripped backward for defense.
The spider lunged.
He ducked—slammed his shield upward into its underside, sending two legs into a stuttered tremble.
Adam cast.
Hydro surged—water shot out from the cave floor in jagged bursts, aiming to knock the spider sideways.
It worked once.
The spider slipped slightly—
Then recovered too fast.
Adam frowned.
His water thickened.
Not like liquid.
Like tar.
He glanced at his glyph.
Normal color.
Wrong behavior.
Something was twisting the Ether.
Ruby moved next.
She staggered at first—glyph flaring against her forearm like a brand.
Then she roared silently.
Her Light burst outward—not clean, not smooth.
It scraped the air like chalk against flame.
The spider reared back, legs bracing.
Light collided with its front chest—bones cracked, waxed tissue burned.
Ruby didn't scream.
But her glyph did.
Skin beneath bubbled slightly—black marks forming beneath each thread of cast.
Adam glanced.
"You're bleeding."
"I'm casting."
Arthur drove in again.
This time, blade forward.
He slashed at the underbody—shattering wax tissue into scattered droplets.
The spider spun—rear legs stabbing the ground, trying to flank.
Arthur rolled—just barely missing a crush impact.
Adam sent a second burst—
It sputtered.
Tar again.
His glyph flared red.
Not in warning.
In corruption.
"Something's wrong," Adam growled.
"Keep casting!" Arthur shouted.
Ruby stepped forward again—her Light pulsing brighter now, less stable, burning her wrist with each second.
The spider hissed—a grinding sound, like someone boiling knives.
It leapt.
Forward.
Arthur didn't dodge.
He braced.
Shield raised—
He caught it.
Full impact.
Bone legs snapped against steel.
Arthur fell—but didn't break.
Adam darted sideways, punching a direct Hydro torrent into the spider's side—
Tar again.
No clean push.
Just sticky backlash.
It slowed the spider for half a second.
And that—
Was enough.
Ruby screamed—not in pain, but in fury.
Her Light surged, burning across the floor like a horizontal blade.
It struck the spider square.
Ripped open one eye.
Three legs faltered.
Arthur rose.
His sword stabbed upward—no Ether, no finesse.
Just rage.
He drove it deep under the spider's abdomen.
The creature twisted.
Shrieked once.
A soft, glitching sound—like memory being torn from stone.
Then—
Collapsed.
The silence after didn't feel safe.
Just slow.
Arthur pulled his blade free—slicked in black fluids.
Adam dropped his arms, breathing heavy.
Ruby fell to one knee.
Arthur turned.
"You good?"
Ruby didn't answer immediately.
Her glyph shimmered—faint, unstable.
Then:
"I'm fine."
Adam approached the corpse.
"You see this?"
The spider's body was shifting.
Not decaying.
Dissolving.
It began to ink.
White limbs faded into black trails.
The wax tissue melted into streaks.
One scarred eye turned liquid, dripping onto the cave floor.
Then—
A trail formed.
From the corpse—
To the next chamber.
A line of black.
Ink and memory.
Leading forward.
Arthur said nothing.
Adam stared.
Ruby just watched the darkness pulse.
None of them wanted to follow it.
But they would.
Because the Hollow didn't just remember.
It curated.
And now, they'd been invited deeper.
The trail the spider left behind didn't lead to safety.
It led to something waiting.
The chasm that opened ahead wasn't shaped like a doorway—it was malformed, like something burrowed through with body parts it couldn't fully fit. No symmetry. No grace. Just exposed angles and claw-gouged stone.
Ruby's shield sputtered.
They stepped inside.
The shift was immediate.
Temperature dropped.
Air thickened.
Light bent inward, retreating from the trio as if embarrassed to reveal what was ahead.
And then—
They saw it.
The room was massive.
A dome, but distorted. Every wall pulsed faintly—not with breath, but with memory.
Tables lined the stone, each holding preserved organs floating inside cracked glass jars—some labeled with names, others twitching softly beneath thick fluid.
Lungs. Eyes. A full spinal column coiled in wire like a trophy snake.
One heart still beat.
No source.
Just memory trapped in muscle.
Chains hung from the ceiling like vines—rusted, dried in marrow, swaying without wind.
And beneath them stood a central slab.
A ritual table.
Stone surface etched with glyphs.
Some ancient.
But most—
Fresh.
Smeared with fingers.
Red not dried.
Black not faded.
Arthur slowed.
His eyes didn't widen.
They narrowed.
He stepped toward one table, examining a set of scalpels.
Not rusted.
Not ancient.
Still gleaming.
Still warm.
He pressed two fingers against a jar holding a severed tongue.
Moisture hadn't dried.
The label?
"Eber—Day 4"
Arthur's voice was low.
Brutal.
"These tools… they're not old."
Adam turned, pale. "What?"
"This place—" Arthur ground the words through his teeth, "—isn't abandoned."
Ruby's shield collapsed to a flicker.
She didn't speak.
She stepped closer to the wall. Saw a mounted ribcage hung with thin linen wrapping.
On it: the name J. Thyre embroidered like an offering.
She blinked once.
Trembled.
Then wiped her nose.
The blood was black again.
Then red.
Adam stopped halfway across the room.
Looked around once.
Twice.
Then vomited.
His water glyph dimmed as nausea stole clarity.
The jars shimmered faintly in response.
Arthur didn't flinch.
His hand clenched tighter around his sword until the leather grip tore open.
Veins bulged across his forearm, rage blooming in silence.
The far wall wasn't complete.
It peeled upward in vein-like fissures—revealing root-like tubes ascending into unseen space.
And somewhere above—
Something stirred.
Not with motion.
With presence.
A voice came.
Low.
Slanted.
Dripping.
Warped through vowels like oil through lace.
From above.
"hEllO…"
**"When Bone Remembers,
Fear Evolves"**
END OF CHAPTER 8
-To Be Continued-