Emil jerked awake, chest heaving.
The dormitory swam into focus—stone walls, low torchlight, the stale air of too many bodies crammed together. He gripped the cot, fingers aching, sweat streaming down his face. For a moment, he did not know if he was above ground or still buried in roots.
He swallowed hard, listening.
The room was the same. The snoring, the rustles, the occasional cough. And yet—beneath it—something else.
A low hum, faint, almost inaudible. Not a voice this time, not words, but a vibration. As though the stone itself was carrying sound from far below.
He froze, straining to hear. It faded. Returned. Faded again.
Was it real? Or his mind, unhinged by fear and fatigue?
He pressed a hand over his mouth, holding back the breath that threatened to come too loud.
Across
