Page 88 of The Onyx Covenant

“Could also just be very old art,” Kieran calls from the opposite wall. “Or the world’s worst interior decorator.”

I catch the edge of a laugh, then freeze.

A sound. Faint but distinct. A soft rustling from the narrow passage behind us.

I glance at Theron. He’s already gone still.

Kieran hears it next. “What the hell was that?”

I don’t answer. My fingers close around the key, and I shove it deep into my pocket.

Then the ground trembles.

A dull, distant thud, followed by another. Louder. Closer.

“We need to move,” Kieran says sharply, his sarcasm gone in an instant. “Now.”

“There!” Theron points to a break in the stone wall, half obscured by hanging moss and shadows.

We don’t hesitate. I sprint for it with Theron in front of me and Kieran bringing up the rear, his blade already drawn. Behind us, a bone-splitting screech tears through the chamber.

Kieran swears and shoves me forward. “Go! Go!”

The corridor beyond the arch is narrow and crooked, its walls more stone than thorn. We rush through it blindly, the path twisting as it slopes upward. The screeching behind us grows louder, angrier, joined now by the sound of heavy, deliberate footsteps—each one a thunderous quake through the floor.

My breaths are racing, dread thumping through me.

“Don’t look back!” Theron shouts.

So I don’t.

Until I do.

I risk a glance and catch only a glimpse—just long enough to make my blood run cold.

It’s tall. Hulking. Broad shoulders hunched beneath twisted, bark-like armor. Its skin is dark and glistening, streaked with something slick. Its face is a ruin of bone and exposed muscle, two molten eyes glowing in its skull. And the sound it makes—it’s not a roar.

It wants to hunt.

“Go!” I scream, and this time, I run faster.

Theron leads us deeper, the stone passage a blur of gray and shadow. I lose track of time, of distance. There’s only breath, burning legs, and the pounding in my ears. The beast doesn’t follow us directly, but the echoes haunt every turn.

Eventually, the sound fades.

The ground begins to level out. The walls widen. And then, suddenly—grass.

Blades beneath my boots, soft underfoot. We stumble into a narrow clearing, barely more than a pocket of space carved into the maze, the thorn walls high on every side.

Kieran collapses first, landing on his back with a groan. “Good news… not dead. Bad news… probably still gonna die.”

Theron presses a hand to the wall, chest heaving. “It didn’t follow us.”

“Or it’s circling around for a dramatic entrance,” Kieran mutters. “Real flair for theatrics, that one.”

I wipe sweat from my brow. My limbs are shaking. My hair is a nest of leaves and blood and who knows what else.

I let out a long yawn, sudden and dragging.

---