The air grew colder with every step.
Not the gentle chill of a breeze, but the heavy cold of old stone and older things buried beneath it. The priests' grips were iron, dragging Kael down a sloping tunnel whose walls pulsed faintly under the marrow-lamps. The bone here was darker, tinged with a strange black veining, as if rot had crept into the skeleton of the ancient beast.
Behind them, the voices of the crowd faded, replaced by the sound of chains dragging over bone.
The priests said nothing. One walked ahead, holding a lamp filled with thick, pale ichor. Its glow barely cut the gloom. The other walked behind, his masked breath rasping in Kael's ear.
Kael tested the chains on his wrists, feeling for any give. None. Whoever had bound him knew how to tie for strength over comfort — the bone cuffs bit deep into his skin, grinding against bone. His fingers were already numb.
They passed into a narrow crack where the walls almost touched. The lamp's light warped, bending oddly, as though it were struggling against something in the air. Kael's gut tightened.
"You don't have to do this," he said. His voice sounded small in the tunnel, swallowed by the dark. "You know I didn't kill him."
The priest behind him chuckled — a low, humorless sound. "Innocence is for the marrow-rich. The marrowless are guilty from birth."
The one ahead spoke without turning. "The Depths take all. You'll join the others, and the Sky Beast will judge if you are worthy to climb back up."
Kael's jaw clenched. There were no "others" who came back.
The tunnel ended abruptly in a round chamber. The bone here was pitted and scarred, marked by deep claw gouges. In the center, a black pit yawned — wide enough for three men to walk abreast, its edges slick with something dark and wet. A faint, cold wind rose from it, carrying a smell like rust and ashes.
The priest in front turned, holding out the lamp to Kael. "Carry this."
Kael narrowed his eyes. "So I can see what kills me?"
The priest's masked face tilted slightly, as if amused. "So it can see you."
The cuffs came off, but before Kael could think to lash out, a hand like a vice shoved him forward. His foot slid on the wet rim, and then he was falling.
The cold hit him first — a knife of air slicing through the marrow of his bones. The lamp tumbled with him, spinning light in dizzying arcs. The fall lasted longer than it should have. His ears popped twice, and the pit walls flashed past, lined with strange growths like clusters of black crystal. Some pulsed faintly as he passed, like the slow beat of a heart.
He hit something hard. The impact rattled his teeth, but not bone-breaking — a slope of slick, ribbed surface that sent him sliding further down until he tumbled into a shallow pool.
The ichor-lamp bobbed nearby, miraculously unbroken. Kael grabbed it, coughing. The liquid it held gave off a sickly light, casting his surroundings into lurid relief.
He was in a cavern unlike any he had seen — bone arches twisted into impossible shapes, as though grown rather than carved. The ground was uneven, slick with patches of dark moss that crumbled to dust underfoot. The air was heavy, tasting faintly of metal and old blood.
And there was sound.
A faint, skittering scrape from somewhere beyond the lamp's glow. Then another, from the opposite side.
Kael froze, holding his breath.
A shape darted just at the edge of the light — too fast to make out. Then another, lower to the ground. The skittering grew louder, circling him.
His grip on the lamp tightened until his knuckles ached. "Alright," he murmured under his breath, "come and try."
The first one came from the left — a blur of pale bone and stringy flesh, jaws opening to reveal too many teeth. Kael dropped low instinctively, and it sailed over him, claws scraping the bone floor.
The second hit him from behind. Pain lanced through his shoulder as something sharp tore fabric and skin. He staggered forward, swinging the lamp hard. The glass struck the creature's side with a dull thunk. It let out a high-pitched screech, recoiling into the dark.
The ichor sloshed, but didn't spill.
Kael's heart hammered. He had no weapon, just the lamp. But his body — it moved like it knew these creatures. Each shift of his weight, each twist to avoid claws, felt almost… familiar. Like muscle memory from a life he couldn't recall.
A third came at him, this one larger — its skull-like head almost level with his chest. He sidestepped, hooked his foot behind its limb, and shoved. The creature toppled sideways, snapping at the air. Kael swung the lamp down on its head. The glass cracked.
Ichor spilled over its face. The creature shrieked, thrashing violently before going still.
The other two skittered back, vanishing into the dark.
Kael stood over the corpse, chest heaving. The thing's body was wrong — too many joints in its limbs, its ribs opening in strange angles. Its skull wasn't carved from bone, but grown from it, like a tumor.
The ichor from the broken lamp seeped into the cracks in the floor, glowing faintly. In the distance, something answered with a low, resonant thrum.
Kael swallowed hard. Whatever lived deeper in these Depths had heard.
And it was coming.