Chapter 239
They called it Serpent’s Hollow because the land slithered beneath your feet.
The forest here had no birdsong. No wind. Just mist that never lifted, and trees that leaned in as if they were listening. The deeper we hiked, the more the silence pressed in, until even our breath felt like betrayal.
Roman moved ahead of me, slow and deliberate, his eyes scanning the underbrush. Ella flanked the left with Nessa behind her, while Wyatt marked our trail with chalk on the trees — not that it would help if the tunnels collapsed.
“Should we be lighting a flare?” Ella whispered.
“No,” I murmured. “They’ll see us before we see them. The dark might be our only advantage.”
It took us two hours to reach the entrance Maeven’s map had pointed to — a narrow crack between two ancient boulders, partially hidden by a collapsed pine tree. Just wide enough to slip through if you didn’t mind your ribs scraping.
Wyatt crouched and tested the edge. “Fresh drag marks. Someone’s been using this path.”
Roman drew his dagger. “Let’s not keep them waiting.”
\---
Inside was worse.
The tunnel dropped steeply, and the air was thick with wet earth and the sour tang of mildew. The walls pulsed with dampness, and our boots sank into the mud with every step.
As we crept forward, the floor changed beneath us — from mud to stone, from stone to something else.
A sharp, metallic *click* echoed beneath my foot.
“Stop!”
Roman’s voice cut like a blade. I froze mid-step.
“What is it?” I hissed.
“Pressure seal,” he said, dropping to examine the floor. “Don’t move, Iris. Not a muscle.”
I didn’t.
Wyatt slid beside him, inspecting the trigger.
“Old style. Ashborn tech, but adapted from Council blueprints. If she lifts her foot, the seal activates.”
“And what happens if it activates?” Ella asked.
“Best-case? Just an alarm,” Wyatt muttered. “Worst-case? Cave-in. Or fire. Or a spike to the gut. You know. Something cheerful.”
Roman’s jaw clenched. “On my mark, shift your weight to me.”
“You sure?”
“Not even a little.”
He braced beside me, counting down with his eyes. Then — “Now.”
I threw my weight sideways and Roman caught me, rolling us both away as Wyatt jammed a stone wedge under the trigger.
Silence.
No explosion.
I let out a breath. “Well, that was dramatic.”
Ella smirked. “Can we *not* almost die again for at least ten minutes?”
“No promises,” I muttered, rising to my feet.
\---
The tunnel branched ahead into a wider chamber. Carved stone walls. Columns covered in soot. Symbols etched in ash and blood — the same crescent and fang sigil twisting over and over, warped and mutated into new shapes.
“This place…” Nessa whispered. “It’s a sanctum.”
A dozen narrow alcoves lined the sides of the chamber. And within each, **robes**. Dozens of them. Ashborn uniforms, neatly hung and pressed. Some black. Some gray. One pure white.
Ella peered closer. “Why does it feel like they’re waiting for us?”
“Because they are,” Roman said, pointing toward the far wall.
An inscription, carved into obsidian stone:
> *For every light above, a shadow below. We are the balance. We are the root.*
Under it, a table with a black journal.
I approached slowly.
Maeven’s handwriting.
I opened the first page.
> *They don’t understand. The Luna sees too little. The Alpha sees too late. The people still believe in titles. We were supposed to be free, not fed a new crown.*
I flipped through pages. Plans. Ideas. Grievances. Dozens of names.
Then I found it: **"Phase One Complete. Phase Two — Detonation Prepped."**
I felt the blood drain from my face.
Wyatt leaned over my shoulder. “Detonation?”
Nessa paled. “Where?”
Roman scanned the schematics folded in the back of the journal.
His voice was flat. “Under our training grounds.”
“What?” Ella snapped. “You’re saying there’s a bomb *under our warriors* right now?”
“No,” I said, breath shallow. “There’s an *entire system of explosives.*”
I turned to them all.
“They don’t want war. They want collapse. They want to *erode* us from within. Without even firing a shot.”
\---
We moved fast after that.
The second tunnel spiraled downward, and the temperature dropped with it. My fingers were numb by the time we reached the next chamber — circular, domed, and eerily empty.
But the smell hit me first.
Burnt copper. Char. Something that had once been living and wasn’t anymore.
At the center was a sealed crate, glowing faintly with blue sigils.
Wyatt cursed under his breath. “This is void-tech. Not just explosive. Magical. Corrupted.”
Roman looked to me. “We can’t disarm this here.”
“No,” I agreed. “But we can take it.”
“Are you insane?” Ella whispered. “That thing’s pulsing. Like it’s *breathing.*”
“It’s their weapon. And their proof. If we destroy it, they’ll build more. But if we bring it back… we show the pack the truth.”
Roman met my eyes. “You sure?”
“I have to be.”
Wyatt and Nessa rigged a carrying rig — a reinforced harness they’d packed for cargo. The crate was surprisingly light. Too light for something so dangerous.
“It’s warded,” Wyatt explained. “Until they activate it, it’s harmless. The weight kicks in with the magic seal.”
“So, the moment someone says the wrong word, boom?”
“Pretty much.”
Roman hauled it over his shoulder.
“Let’s get out of this snake pit.”
\---
We retraced our steps, careful to avoid the pressure seal again.
As we neared the exit, a faint sound reached us.
Whispers.
Coming from ahead.
I raised a fist, halting the group. We flattened against the wall.
Two Ashborn scouts emerged from the tunnel ahead — slim builds, gray hoods, blades drawn.
They hadn’t seen us yet.
Roman mouthed: *Ambush or sneak past?*
I hesitated. One wrong move, and the crate on his back became our tomb.
I looked at the ceiling above the Ashborn. Cracked stone. Fragile.
I pointed.
Wyatt pulled a single pulse crystal from his pocket — tiny, but strong enough.
He tossed it.
The ceiling groaned—
*CRACK.*
Dust and rubble collapsed over the scouts. Not enough to kill. Just enough to bury and confuse.
We sprinted past them, Roman shielding the crate with his body as we rushed through the narrow tunnel, back toward the surface.
And then—daylight.
Real light.
The taste of air.
We collapsed on the forest floor, panting.
No one spoke for a long moment.
Finally, Roman said, “We’ve got the proof.”
I nodded, staring up at the trees. “Now let’s show the pack the serpent that’s been under their feet.”
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