Veiled Eyes

Chapter 9

Trap – noun: a device or enclosure designed to catch and retain animals, typically by allowing entry but not exit or by catching hold of a part of the body.

We walked in silence for a long while, our footsteps muffled by the thick stillness of the tunnel. Somewhere in the distance, a single drop of water fell, echoing like a slow, steady metronome in the dark. The air was cool and damp, tinged with the mineral tang of stone—and something else, faint and cloying, like spoiled fruit left too long in the sun.

I expected total blackness this deep underground, but instead the walls shimmered with a faint greenish glow, casting ghostly halos on the uneven rock. It wasn’t light like a flame or a bulb—more like the walls themselves were exhaling their own dim radiance.

Drawn by curiosity, I reached out and brushed my fingertips against it. The surface gave way under the lightest pressure—soft, spongy, and slick with a thin sheen of moisture. I recoiled instinctively, wiping my fingers against my pants, but the faint luminescence clung stubbornly to my skin.

Kael’s voice broke the silence, low and flat. “Don’t touch that.”

I hesitated, glancing down at my glowing fingertips. “What is it?”

His eyes flicked to the wall, then back to me. “Fungus,” he said flatly. “If you eat it, it’ll burn you from the inside out. Skin contact’s not much better. Just… keep your hands away from your mouth.”

I swallowed hard, my stomach twisting. A phantom heat crawled over my tongue at the thought, as if my body already knew the taste would be wrong. My mind replayed how close I’d come to brushing my lips with the back of my hand, and my chest tightened.

I wiped my palms down the sides of my pants—once, twice—until the faint smear of bioluminescent green came away in streaks. The glow clung stubbornly to the fabric, bleeding through in ghostly patterns, and I had the awful feeling that no amount of scrubbing would make it truly gone.

Suddenly, a low rumble rolled through the stone beneath our feet, subtle at first, then deep enough to rattle in my chest. Kael froze mid-step, every muscle going taut. One hand shot up, palm out—a silent order to stop.

His gaze dropped to the bundle of bloodied clothes still clenched in his fist. “Shit.” The word was low, sharp. He flung the clothes to the ground as if they’d suddenly become dangerous, his other hand sliding to his hip to draw a long, dark-bladed knife I hadn’t even seen before.

In one fluid motion, he caught my wrist and tugged me forward, urgency in every step. The rumble came again, closer now—like something massive shifting through the rock, hungry and deliberate.

Kael suddenly turned, crowding close, his breath warm against my ear. His finger pressed to his lips. “Stay quiet,” he murmured, barely a breath, but the weight in it made my skin prickle.

I nodded, forcing myself to keep my hands at my sides when every instinct screamed to grab onto him. We inched forward, each footstep deliberate, the tunnel swallowing us in its oppressive silence.

Pain flared in my thigh, a deep, throbbing pulse that spread upward with every step. I bit down on a breath, but when a sharp stab lanced through me, a small whimper escaped before I could stop it. Heat bloomed against my skin—wet, sticky.

I froze, horrified, as I felt the warmth seeping through the fabric of my pants. My blood. My hand flew to my mouth, clamping down on the sound, but the coppery scent was already in the air.

Kael spun toward me, his expression tightening. His nostrils flared as his gaze dropped to my leg. Even in the dim light, I saw his eyes widen, something primal flashing across his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but the ground cut him off—

The rumble came again. Louder. Closer. This time it wasn’t just a vibration through the soles of my boots—it was a deep, bone-shaking tremor, as if something enormous was scraping and tunneling just beneath us.

“Burrower,” he mouthed, the word a ghost on his lips. It’s tracking the blood.

My stomach plummeted, cold and heavy. It was hunting me. My blood was the lure, the promise of a kill. I bit back a curse, my pulse hammering in my ears.

The earth behind us gave way with a deafening c***k, stone and soil erupting upward in a violent spray. Something tore through the ground with terrifying speed—a blur of pale, armor-plated chitin and far too many limbs.

It wasn’t crawling—it lunged, each movement a jerky, unnatural blend of spider and wolf, its segmented legs scraping and clicking against the tunnel walls. Those eyes—dozens of them—burned an unholy yellow, their glow locking on to me with predatory precision.

The air filled with the stench of damp earth and rot as it let out a sound that wasn’t a growl or a hiss, but something between the two—wet, rattling, and hungry.

I froze, rooted in place by sheer terror.

The beast thundered toward me, its monstrous form blotting out the tunnel behind it. Its mandibles gaped wide, rows of jagged teeth snapping open to tear into me.

At the last second, an arm locked around my waist, wrenching me sideways. Kael’s momentum tore me from the beast’s path just as it slammed into the stone wall where I’d been standing. The impact sent a shudder through the ground, shards of rock splintering into the air.

Kael’s grip didn’t loosen. “Move!” he barked, shoving me forward into a run. My breath came ragged and sharp, each step echoing like a drumbeat in my ears. The tunnel seemed to shrink around us, the jagged shadows cast by the faint bioluminescent glow clawing along the walls as the beast’s shriek tore after us.

The shriek came again—closer, louder—its pitch drilling into my skull. The air behind us churned with the rush of its movement, the scrape and slam of its claws sparking off the stone.

My leg screamed in protest, the wet warmth of fresh blood soaking through my pants again. Each uneven stride was agony, but stopping meant death.

“It’s right behind us!” I gasped, my voice breaking.

“Keep running!” Kael snarled, shoving me forward harder. His own pace didn’t falter, every motion sharp, deliberate.

The ground trembled beneath us—the Burrower was tunneling again, shifting position like a predator cutting off prey.

“Left—now!” Kael barked, yanking me into a narrow side passage just as the floor behind us erupted in a spray of dirt and shattered stone.

Kael skidded to a stop, spun, and hurled something—a small vial that shattered at the Burrower’s feet. A burst of acrid smoke hissed up, stinging my eyes and burning my lungs.

“This way!” He seized my arm, yanking me toward a narrow side passage I hadn’t even noticed. We barreled into the shaft, the rock closing in on both sides, scraping my shoulders as we ran. The Burrower’s shriek was muffled now, but it still echoed behind us, relentless.

We burst into a wider chamber, my breath ragged, heart hammering. Kael shoved me behind a toppled slab of stone. “Stay here,” he said, voice like steel. He pulled a blade from his pack, pressing the hilt into my palm.

“What are you—?”

But he was already gone, melting into the shadows. A moment later, the Burrower’s scream tore through the chamber, so sharp it rattled my teeth. I tightened my grip on the blade and dared a glance around the slab.

Kael was a blur—darting low beneath the creature’s lashing limbs, his movements precise and merciless. Steel flashed in the dim light as he drove his knife up into the vulnerable seam beneath its plated armor. The Burrower shrieked, convulsing, but he didn’t let go. He wrenched the blade, twisting deep until a sickening c***k echoed, and the beast crumpled in a spasming heap.

The chamber fell silent, save for the ragged rasp of my breathing. Kael stood over the corpse, chest rising and falling hard, his blade slick and dripping. For a moment, he didn’t move—just stared at the still-twitching limbs, head tilted in that unnatural, almost predatory way that made the hairs on my neck rise. Then, with a sharp, efficient pull, he yanked the knife free.

Then his mocha eyes found me. “You alive?”

I managed a nod, though my throat felt too tight to speak. He didn’t wait for an answer—just strode past, wiping his blade clean on the creature’s hide, the motion brisk and unceremonious.

“You froze,” he said, voice flat as stone. “Next time, I won’t save you.”

But his gaze lingered a heartbeat too long before he turned away, something unspoken flickering there—relief, sharp and fleeting—before the mask slammed back into place. And yet, despite his words, something in that look told me he would.

I hated that I believed it. Hated that the certainty lodged itself in my chest, stubborn and irrational. He was cold, guarded, a stranger I had every reason not to trust. But in that moment—knife in hand, chest heaving from the fight—he had chosen to put himself between me and the thing that wanted me dead. I didn’t understand him. And worse, I was starting to wonder if I wanted to.