Page 39 of Dark as the Cursed Abyss

“Acacius,” Chloe finished, equally breathless, scanning the cavern around them. “We can discuss how much you want to kill him later.”

Farah huffed out something between a laugh and a curse. “If you’d believe it, he actually warned me of this…in his own peculiar sort of way.”

She elaborated no further because the water glowed. Not brightly, but enough—an eerie, pale blue light emanating from somewhere deep beneath the surface, illuminating the cavern walls in wavering patterns. The stone around them was jagged, ancient, dripping with moisture that echoed in slow, hollow plinks. It felt older than the rest of the labyrinth. Older than the mountain itself.

Then, as if summoned by their awareness, flames sparked to life along the cavern walls. One by one. A line of fire ignited, trailing away from the pool in a narrow path deeper into the cave.

Farah stilled. “That doesn’t feel like a trap at all.”

Chloe didn’t respond immediately. Her gaze had gone distant, fixed on the path as if she could see something Farah could not. “Not a trap,” she said finally, quieter. “It feels like an invitation.”

That was worse.

They hauled themselves from the water, soaked clothing clinging to their skin, boots squelching softly against the stone. Farah’s fingers tightened around the haft of her axe, her body already coiling with anticipation for whatever waited ahead.

The path twisted only slightly before ending in what appeared to be a dead end—a sheer stone wall, unremarkable at first glance.

Farah exhaled sharply. “It’s a dead end.”

But Chloe had already stepped forward.

“There,” she murmured, brushing wet strands of hair from her face as she leaned closer to the wall. “Look.”

Farah followed, squinting at the stone. At first, she saw nothing. Then the faintest etchings, nearly worn smooth with time. Symbols carved into the rock, shallow and deliberate, stretching across the surface in a pattern that was almost too precise to be natural.

Recognition flickered in Chloe’s eyes. “My brother’s letter,” she said, voice tightening. “These are the same markings he described.”

Farah’s pulse quickened. “The relics.”

Chloe nodded slowly. “They’re here.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Chloe drew one of her blades. Without hesitation, she turned the edge toward her palm and sliced.

Farah’s breath caught. “Chloe—”

But Chloe only winced slightly as blood welled in an unhealed wound, dark and vivid against her skin. She stepped forward and pressed her hand to the carvings, dragging her blood along the grooves of the symbols. The reaction was immediate and the stone hissed.

A low, guttural sound echoed through the cavern as the blood seeped into the engravings, filling them like veins coming to life. The air shifted until it carried a scent that made Farah’s stomach twist.

Rot. Decay. Death.

“Old magic,” Farah muttered, stepping beside her. “Very old.”

Chloe didn’t look away. “It needs both of us.”

Farah didn’t question it. She mirrored Chloe’s action, slicing her own palm and pressing it against the wall. Their blood mingled in the carved lines, and for a moment the entire cavern seemed to hold its breath before the wall creaked open.

Not with a crash, but with a slow, grinding shift, stone pulling away from stone as if reluctantly yielding to their presence. Darkness yawned beyond, deeper and heavier than the labyrinth they had left behind. They stepped inside the vast chamber beyond.

Farah’s breath caught as her eyes adjusted, taking in the towering space carved from the mountain’s heart. The air was charged, reverent, like stepping into a place that had not been touched in centuries. At the far end stood two statues, massive and unyielding.

The first Farah knew without question. Zeus. His form was carved in striking detail, muscles coiled with power, his expression carved into something both wrathful and divine. In his hand, he held a staff—the kiste—its surface etched with lightning-like veins that seemed to flicker faintly even in stillness.

Beside him stood Artemis. Graceful and deadly. Her stone gaze was fixed forward, bow absent but something else held in its place—a sleek, curved weapon resting in her grasp. The calathus.

Farah exhaled slowly. “Well,” she murmured. “Your brother wasn’t lying.”

Chloe didn’t respond. She was already moving.