The journey back to the chapel felt longer than the journey away from it. The city seemed to shift around them not physically, but in presence. The air grew heavier with each step, as if the ruins were leaning closer, listening to their breath, learning their fear.
Ana clung tightly to Elise, her small hand wrapped in a fist around what remained of Elise's sleeve. Jace limped beside them, supported by Lucas on one side and Elise on the other. Elizabeth followed just behind, her fingers brushing the prayer beads hidden inside her habit, though she no longer prayed she listened.
The ground murmured now and then.
Not shaking.
Not warning.
Just… murmuring.
As if the earth was trying to speak a language only one woman in the group could hear.
Elizabeth felt each murmur like a thread pulled through her chest. Not painful. Not violent. But insistently familiar. As though something beneath the city recognized her shape, her breath, her heartbeat.
And it was searching.
Lucas kept glancing over his shoulder to check on her. Every time she met his gaze, she forced a reassuring half-smile. But he wasn't fooled. Her eyes were too wide, too bright with fear or something far more complicated than fear.
He slowed his steps until he walked beside her.
"You're too quiet."
"I'm listening," she answered softly.
"I don't want you to listen."
Elizabeth exhaled, a thin shake in her breath. "I don't think I can stop."
Lucas clenched his jaw. "Then listen to me instead. We get to the chapel. We make a plan. We leave the city tonight."
Her eyes flickered faintly. "You keep saying that as if leaving is still possible."
"It is."
"It may not be."
Before Lucas could argue, the ground pulsed beneath them again this time a clear thud, like a heartbeat rising through miles of stone.
Ana gasped. Elise froze. Jace nearly stumbled.
Lucas pulled Elizabeth close. "That wasn't the same as before."
"No," she whispered. "It's stronger now. More… awake."
"Elizabeth"
"It's not following us," she said suddenly.
Lucas blinked. "What?"
"It's not moving toward us," she murmured, eyes drifting toward the distant plumes of dust. "It's moving toward something else."
Lucas followed her gaze.
The dust clouds rose from three different directions now, drifting together like threads weaving toward a single point.
"What's over there?" Elise asked.
Lucas answered without hesitation.
"The old northern district."
"And beyond that?" Elizabeth asked quietly.
Lucas hesitated a moment too long.
"Lucas," she repeated, voice low, "what's beyond it?"
He finally spoke. "The burial grounds. Before the war."
Elizabeth's breath hitched.
"And beneath that…"
Lucas didn't want to say it.
But she already knew.
"The cavern tunnels," she whispered. "The ones sealed after the quake last winter."
A soft tone drifted through the air then an echo that didn't belong to wind or stone.
A bell.
The same impossible bell from earlier.
Distant.
Cold.
Calling.
Ana started crying again. Elise tried to comfort her, but even her own hands trembled.
Lucas grabbed Elizabeth's arm. "We're almost there. The chapel is close. Stay with me."
Elizabeth nodded once, but her gaze remained fixed on the horizon.
On the dust clouds moving in patterns that didn't belong to wind.
On the faint rhythm of something beneath them.
On the feeling deep, inescapable that she was being sought.
They reached the chapel steps just as the sun began to lower, painting the ruined city in a bleeding gold. The once-grand doorway stood bent but familiar. Safe, in its own broken way.
Inside, the remnants of yesterday's candles still stained the air with thin scents of smoke and wax. A few voices echoed faintly from the far pew survivors who had taken refuge during the night. They looked up as Lucas and the others entered, relief breaking across their faces.
"You're back," one of the women whispered.
"What happened?" asked another.
Lucas shook his head. "Later. Everyone stay inside for now."
Elizabeth walked forward slowly, her fingers trailing along the cracked surface of the nearest pew. She paused where she always did in front of the small stone altar that somehow remained standing despite everything around it collapsing.
She placed both hands on it.
Closed her eyes.
Breathed deeply.
And for a moment, everything felt still.
Lucas approached her quietly. "Are you okay?"
Her voice was almost steady. "The chapel helps. The echoes are softer here."
Lucas frowned. "Echoes?"
Elizabeth lowered her head. "It's not speaking with words. It's more like… remembering. Through me."
Lucas took her hand.
"You're not a vessel for anything beneath that ground."
"But something there remembers me."
"That's not possible."
Elizabeth finally looked at him.
And the look in her eyes wounded him deeper than any tremor ever could.
"What if it is?"
Lucas opened his mouth
but the chapel floor trembled.
Everyone froze.
Heads lifted.
Candles flickered.
The stones beneath their feet gave a long, low groan.
A collective hush swept through the chapel.
Jace whispered, "It followed us…"
"No," Elizabeth said sharply. "Not here."
But the ground pulsed again, stronger this time.
Elise backed away from the center of the room. "Sister… something's under the chapel."
Lucas stepped protectively in front of Elizabeth. "Stay behind me."
The pews rattled.
The altar cracked at its base.
Dust poured from the ceiling like falling snow.
Then
A deep, hollow thud reverberated from beneath the chapel floor.
Ana screamed.
Survivors pressed against the walls.
Lucas grabbed Elizabeth and pulled her back
but she didn't move.
Because she felt it.
Clearly.
Sharply.
Painfully.
A single word.
Or what felt like a word.
Elizabeth.
Her name again.
But not whispered.
Not mourned.
Summoned.
Her knees buckled. Lucas caught her instantly.
"Elizabeth! Elizabeth, look at me!"
Her eyes were wide, glowing with terror and something that made Lucas's blood turn cold:
Recognition.
"It's here," she whispered.
"Elizabeth"
"It found its way."
The floor cracked.
Stone split down the middle of the aisle.
A rush of cold air burst upward.
The survivors screamed and scattered.
Lucas dragged Elizabeth back, but she didn't tear her gaze from the widening fissure.
Because rising from the darkness
not light,
not smoke,
not earth
but a sound, soft and trembling:
a sob.
Not human.
Not monstrous.
But ancient.
And it spoke into her bones.
Elizabeth's breath shattered.
She pressed a hand to her chest.
"Lucas…" she whispered.
"What is it"
"It's hurting."
The chapel trembled.
The ground throbbed.
Stone splintered.
And Elizabeth, tears streaking down her ash-covered cheeks, whispered the words that froze every soul in the room:
"It wants me to come down."
The fissure widened
and something beneath the chapel
exhaled her name.