The rain had turned to a hard, unrelenting downpour by the time Liora and Corren staggered back toward the village. The marsh paths, already treacherous, were now flooded, the water lapping at their knees. Every distant crack of thunder sounded like the answering cry they'd heard after the circle broke—a sound that had not belonged to wind, beast, or man.
Neither spoke for a long while. Breath steamed in the cold, each of them wrapped in their own stunned silence. Corren's spear was splintered near the base; his left sleeve hung in tatters. Liora's hands were raw from the counter-runes, her fingernails cracked. Mud streaked their clothes, blood their faces—but it wasn't the mud or blood that weighed on them. It was the knowledge of what had been unleashed.
They reached the low hill that overlooked the village. Torches blazed where the soldiers had doubled their watch. A bell clanged through the rain, sharp and urgent. People were gathering in the square despite the storm. The entire settlement seemed to shiver beneath the storm's weight.
"They've heard," Corren muttered. His jaw was set tight. "Something reached them."
"Not just heard," Liora said quietly. She pointed to the bell tower. One of the soldiers was frantically ringing, looking toward the marsh with eyes wide as coins.
Then, the sound came again.
Not as distant this time.
It began as a low hum beneath their feet—like a drumbeat echoing from underground. Then it rose into a rumble, spreading through the waterlogged soil. The torches in the square flickered. Dogs barked wildly, pulling against their chains. Children screamed as shutters banged open and closed.
The thing beneath the marsh was moving.
They pushed through the crowd gathered in the square. Branek stood near the well, drenched, armor gleaming in the torchlight. His men surrounded him in a loose circle. When he saw Corren and Liora emerge from the darkness, his face hardened into suspicion.
"You two," Branek barked. "Where were you?"
Liora's cloak was heavy with water; her hair clung to her cheeks. She forced herself to meet his stare. "Beyond the western path. Something was happening out there. Some kind of—"
"Ritual," Corren interrupted, his voice flat and grim. "Old stones. Bone spirals. And creatures that weren't human. They broke something open."
Branek stepped closer, rain dripping off his helm. "You left without orders. You went where no one was supposed to go. And now the ground shakes and the marsh howls. Tell me why I shouldn't put you both in irons for what's happening."
Corren's hand twitched toward his broken spear. Liora caught his wrist subtly. She could feel the soldiers tightening their grip on weapons, the fear under their anger like dry kindling waiting for a spark.
"Because if you arrest us," she said clearly, "you'll have no one who knows what's coming."
The murmurs in the crowd grew louder. Branek's jaw clenched. But before he could speak, a scream split the air.
It came from the eastern wall.
The crowd surged toward the sound. Liora and Corren followed. Torches flared as they reached the wooden palisade that ringed the village. One of the watchtowers leaned precariously to one side, its support beams groaning. At its base lay a soldier—his body twisted unnaturally, his eyes staring sightlessly at the rain.
"Something hit the tower," a guard shouted. "It came from below! The ground just… split!"
Liora pushed through until she reached the base of the tower. There, in the mud, was a crack—a long, narrow fissure that hadn't been there the day before. Water bubbled up through it, seething like a boiling pot. The rumble beneath their feet deepened. The tower tilted further, beams snapping one by one.
"Get back!" Branek roared.
The tower collapsed inward, sending a wave of mud and debris. Soldiers scrambled back as the fissure widened. A shape rose from the water—not fully seen, but suggested by the way the rain slid off it: vast, slick, alive. Then it vanished again, slipping beneath the ground as though the marsh were swallowing itself.
"What in the name of the Circle…" someone whispered.
Liora's skin prickled. She knew, without knowing how, that the ritual site had not just opened a door—it had weakened the bones of the earth. Something ancient was pushing through.
Hours later, the storm still raged. Branek convened an emergency council in the longhouse. Liora sat near the wall, her cloak dripping, listening as voices clashed.
"We should evacuate the village," one elder said. "Take the children, the sick—get them to the highlands."
"And leave the rest of us to die?" snapped another. "The roads are flooded. We'd be walking into the marsh's mouth."
Branek slammed his gauntleted fist on the table. "No one leaves. No one. If this thing wants the village, it'll find nothing but pikes and fire."
"Pikes won't stop what we saw," Corren said from the shadows. His voice cut through the arguing like a blade. "They won't even touch it."
All eyes turned to him. Liora felt the weight of their gaze too—some curious, some accusatory, some outright fearful. She stood slowly, stepping forward.
"There's more than one enemy," she said. "The Beast isn't what broke the seal. She tried to stop it. What came through… those creatures, the shadow—they served something older. Something beneath us."
"And you know this how?" Branek's tone was cold.
"Because I saw it," she answered, just as cold. "And if we don't act fast, we won't have time for your questions."
A silence settled. Rain battered the roof like a thousand fists.
Finally, one of the elders spoke softly. "If it's what I think… then this is older than the village itself. Older than the marsh."
After the meeting broke, Liora stepped outside. The storm had not let up. The village seemed to crouch beneath the weight of the night. She leaned against the wall of the longhouse, eyes scanning the dark tree line.
Something moved there—too fluid to be human. For a heartbeat, she thought she saw Maren's Beast-form watching from the edge of the trees, eyes gleaming like wet amber. Then it was gone.
Corren joined her, his face drawn. "They're scared," he said. "And Branek's pride won't let him admit he's out of his depth."
"He'll try to fight it like it's just another beast," Liora replied. "But this isn't something you kill with iron."
Thunder rolled. Somewhere far beneath the marsh, the rumbling began again—stronger this time, like something was testing the barrier between below and above.
Liora turned to Corren. "Tomorrow, we go back to the Circle."
He looked at her sharply. "Are you mad?"
"We need to know what they broke. If there's a way to fix it, it'll be there."
"And if there isn't?"
She met his gaze steadily. "Then we'll find out before everyone else dies wondering."
That night, sleep didn't come easily. In her dreams, she stood again in the stone circle. The bones rose around her like a spiral staircase, leading downward into darkness. She heard Maren's voice somewhere below, calling her name—not in anger, but in warning.
And beneath it all, deeper than sound, was the shape moving through the dark earth. A shape too big to see all at once. A shape that had been waiting.
She woke before dawn, heart pounding, the storm still raging outside.
The sound beneath the marsh had not stopped.