Page 107 of The Hyena’s Guardian

The bond had not settled since the corridor above. If anything, it had grown sharper with every level they descended. Matt remained constantly aware of Theron somewhere at the edge of his senses, not through thoughts or emotions exactly, but through certainty. Close enough to reach if something went wrong.

And beneath that awareness lingered something worse.

The mountain had noticed it too.

Matt could feel that now with sickening clarity. The whispers followed them through every corridor, threading through the stone around them like breath moving beneath skin.

Sometimes the voices faded beneath the scrape of boots on rock. Other times they rose directly from the walls, overlapping fragments that nearly formed sentences before collapsing into static.

Open the gate. Blood remembers. Royal blood returns. The words crawled behind Matt’s eyes.

He rubbed a tired hand across his face as the group descended another spiraling stretch of uneven stairs.

One of the younger Valker agents glanced back toward him uneasily. “You hear it constantly now?”

Matt gestured toward the pulsing veins in the walls. “At this point I’m starting to feel emotionally bullied by architecture.”

That earned a brief snort from somewhere behind him.

Vale did not turn around. “Focus.”

“I am focused,” Matt muttered. “Unfortunately I’m focused on the homicidal cave talking directly into my nervous system.”

Theron released a quiet breath through his nose. Matt caught the sound. “You’re laughing again.”

“It was brief.”

“It still counts.”

The amusement vanished suddenly, but Matt still felt strangely victorious.

Ahead of them, the corridor widened into another massive chamber. This chamber felt older than the crypts above, and far less damaged.

The ceiling arched high overhead beneath enormous black columns carved directly into the stone. Unlike the ruined tombs above, the architecture here remained almost entirely intact, though black mineral growth branched across every wall.

And at the center of the chamber stood statues. Dozens of them. Matt slowed instinctively.

The figures formed two enormous rows stretching toward another sealed doorway at the far end of the room. Ancient wolves carved from black stone stood frozen in rigid silence, each nearly twelve feet tall. Crowns rested atop several heads while others wore armor worked directly into the stone itself.

Every statue faced inward toward the center path. They stood like witnesses, though Matt could not decide whether they were meant to observe or guard what lay beyond them.

Matt stared upward uneasily. “Okay. I officially hate this room too.”

Baptiste approached one of the statues. “Kings.”

Theron nodded once.

Matt studied the nearest figure more carefully beneath the mounted lights. Time had damaged portions of the face, but enough remained intact for him to recognize the expression carved into the stone.

“These aren’t memorials,” Matt said.

Theron’s eyes shifted briefly toward him. “No.”

Vale stepped farther into the chamber with her rifle raised. “Then what are they?”

Theron studied the statues. “Warnings.”

Nobody spoke after that. Sound behaved strangely in the chamber, every footstep lingering longer than it should.