He didn't move right away.
The buzzing continued below, steady and indifferent, but his eyes tracked the gaps between stone pillars, the way shadows gathered and broke apart as the faint glow passed through them.
He waited for a pattern.
When it came, it was subtle.
The winged monsters drifted along the same paths, circling wide arcs through the open cavern, rarely crossing too close to the stone clusters. Their movement wasn't random—it followed the space, respected it.
Good.
He shifted his weight slowly, testing the ground beneath him before committing. Loose gravel slid under his palm, and he froze, waiting for a reaction.
Nothing.
The buzzing didn't change.
He exhaled silently and began to move.
Staying low, he slid from one stone cluster to the next, keeping to the darker stretches where the glow thinned. Every step was measured. Every movement deliberate. His body protested with quiet aches, but he ignored them.
Noise mattered more than pain.
As he crept forward, his eyes stayed on the cavern ahead, searching for anything that broke the pattern—an opening, a slope, a narrowing passage. The stone here felt different than the crevice behind him. Less jagged. More shaped.
Paths curved where they shouldn't.
Corners softened into bends instead of breaking off naturally.
His jaw tightened.
This wasn't just underground.
It was laid out.
A faint memory stirred—not clear enough to grab, but enough to guide him.
Winged monsters like these didn't linger near open air. They favored damp, enclosed spaces where light barely reached. Places where sound carried poorly. Where things could hide.
Which meant—
He glanced toward the darker stretch beyond the cavern, where the stone descended and the glow failed to follow.
That way went deeper.
The opposite direction—where the stone rose unevenly and the buzzing thinned—felt… different.
Not safe.
But closer.
His grip tightened as another thought surfaced, sharp and unwelcome.
If monsters like these were here, then whatever hunted them wouldn't be far.
And he had no intention of finding out what that was.
Keeping low, he angled his path toward the dimmer edge of the cavern, moving when the glow faded, stopping when it returned. Step by step, shadow to shadow.
The buzzing drifted behind him.
The darkness ahead waited.
He moved when the buzzing faded into the distance.
Slowly. Carefully.
Each step was measured, placed only after his eyes swept the ground ahead. Loose gravel. Cracks. Shadows that looked too deep to be trusted. He stayed close to the walls, where the stone broke his outline and the light thinned.
The cavern narrowed as he went.
That was good.
Open spaces meant being seen.
His breath stayed shallow. Controlled. He paused often—not because he was tired, but because listening mattered more than moving.
The air felt… wrong.
Thicker in places. Damp in others. The stone under his feet changed texture without warning, smooth in one step, jagged in the next. None of it felt natural.
His grip tightened around a fist-sized rock he'd picked up earlier.
Not a weapon.
Just something solid.
A sound reached him.
Wet.
Low.
Too close.
He stopped instantly, pressing his shoulder into the wall as the sound dragged itself past the opening ahead.
Something moved through the passage.
Short. Low to the ground.
Its body scraped faintly against the stone, accompanied by a sound like slow chewing. He leaned forward just enough to see.
A mouth.
Too large for the rest of it.
It opened and closed as it moved, jaw stretching wider than seemed possible, rows of uneven teeth catching the dim light before vanishing again. The body behind it was small—almost stunted. Thin limbs scraped uselessly at the stone, struggling to support the weight of that massive head.
It wandered.
Alone.
His heart hammered.
It hadn't noticed him.
Not yet.
He stayed still, barely breathing, watching as it passed the opening and disappeared around the bend. The sound faded, wet and dragging, until it blended back into the cavern's distant noise.
He waited longer than necessary.
Then longer still.
When he finally moved again, it was with even more care than before.
The passage twisted sharply ahead.
He rounded the corner—
And it was there.
Right in front of him.
The thing jerked its head up, mouth opening impossibly wide as a sharp, startled hiss burst from its throat.
Too close.
He didn't think.
He jumped back as the creature lunged forward, its short limbs scrabbling uselessly as its weight carried it off balance. Its mouth snapped shut inches from where his leg had been.
Stone.
Now.
He swung.
The rock connected with the side of its head with a dull crack. The creature shrieked—a high, broken sound—and thrashed wildly, mouth snapping at empty air.
He didn't stop.
Again.
Again.
He kept his distance, stepping back each time it lurched forward, striking only when it overextended itself. The short limbs couldn't keep up. The body twisted awkwardly, momentum working against it.
One final blow landed squarely.
The creature collapsed, twitching once before going still.
Silence rushed in.
His arms shook as he stepped back, chest heaving. The rock slipped from his fingers and clattered to the ground.
He stared at the body.
Then away.
His stomach churned.
That worked…
but barely.
He wiped his hand against his clothes, breathing slowly until the shaking eased.
Staying hidden mattered.
Distance mattered.
Luck mattered most of all.
He looked ahead into the twisting dark.
And kept moving.