The chasm gaped before them like a gash ripped across the woodland ground. Rough walls of ebony rock descended into darkness-cloaked depths that appeared to devour the sparse midday illumination seeping through the leafy ceiling overhead. Natural shelves and fissures marked the stony surface, forming a hazardous labyrinth of possible grips and fatal snares. The hush that had haunted the woods above seemed even more oppressive here, as though the very soil suspended its respiration.

  Alph's breath hitched as he examined the perilous view in front of them. His gaze followed the uneven surfaces, instinctively marking the outcroppings and fissures. He prayed they wouldn't need to descend and that this was merely a barrier they could traverse across.

  Pete shifted his weight, the clink of his chainmail breaking the oppressive silence. He studied the width of the chasm with a soldier's pragmatic eye, measuring distances and calculating whether they could fashion a bridge or find another route. The gap was too wide for jumping, and there were no fallen trees nearby that could span the distance.

  Lukan stood frozen, his aged countenance furrowed with bewilderment and what seemed like incredulity. His gaze flitted among recognizable features—the characteristic forked pine on their left flank, the lichen-blanketed stone at their backs, the specific configuration of fallen timber he'd utilized as reference points innumerable times in the past. Every element corresponded flawlessly with his cognitive landscape, save for the unfathomable ravine that now sliced through ground he could have traversed with his vision obscured.

  "This is impossible," Lukan whispered, barely audible over the suffocating silence. "I've hunted these woods for twenty years. There was no ravine here."

  "No ravine?" Alph turned to stare at the hunter. "You're certain we're in the right place?"

  Pete's brow furrowed as he glanced between Lukan and the chasm. "Maybe we took a wrong turn somewhere."

  "I'm sure," Lukan said firmly, pointing at the forked pine. "That tree, those rocks—I know this exact spot. Made camp not fifty yards from here three months ago." His voice grew strained. "There was solid ground where that pit is now."

  A shiver unrelated to the woodland temperature slithered along Alph's backbone. If Lukan spoke truth—and the fellow's standing indicated he rarely erred in such matters—then they were witnessing something that challenged rational understanding. Landscapes didn't just disappear in mere hours. Gorges didn't spontaneously cut through firm ground without some devastating power. Nevertheless, it yawned before them like an inexplicable gash that had no logical reason to be there.

  "No reports of any quakes in this region lately," Pete mumbled, surveying the forest boundary with heightened caution. His gaze followed the perimeter of the chasm, searching for further evidence of upheaval.

  Lukan knelt at the edge, examining the disrupted soil with his fingertips. After an extended silence, he rose with a somber look. "Might be an Earthrender," he remarked softly. "Giant worm-like creatures that burrow through rock and dirt to travel." He hesitated, giving his head a shake. "But they inhabit the deep mountain territories beyond Borov Woods. Never known one to venture this far southward before."

  Alph sensed fragments of an unsettling riddle assembling within his thoughts. "First the Duskmane cats forced from their hunting grounds," he remarked deliberately, "now possibly an Earthrender distant from its typical habitat." He glanced between his traveling companions. "Something's pushing beasts out from the interior sections of Borov Woods, isn't it?"

  Lukan confirmed with a grim nod. "Aye, that's probably what we're seeing. Territorial conflicts among monster species can turn vicious." He thoughtfully stroked his jaw. "Likely a dominant creature has claimed the deep woods—something formidable enough to expel the established predators."

  Alph harbored doubts about such a straightforward interpretation, yet the reasoning appeared adequately sound. Dominant predators did indeed displace weaker ones, which would account for the strange animal behaviors they'd witnessed.

  "Makes sense," he acknowledged with reluctance.

  Pete adjusted his stance, his chainmail jingling as he surveyed the ravine's perimeter. "So do we topple a tree to span this gap, or seek an alternate route? Either choice will drain precious time we cannot spare."

  Lukan held up a hand for silence, his weathered palm suddenly rigid in the air as his head tilted toward the chasm. His eyes narrowed to slits, focusing his senses beyond what the others could perceive. The forest sounds—rustling leaves, distant bird calls, the soft whisper of wind—seemed to fade away as he concentrated.

  "Neither," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, rough with tension. "There's labored breathing coming from below. Human breathing." His fingers curled slightly, as if physically grasping at the faint sounds rising from the darkness. "Shallow and irregular, but definitely human. It could be Marcus that's down there." His jaw tightened as he exchanged a meaningful glance with Pete, the unspoken possibility hanging between them like a physical weight—that they might have found their missing companion, but in what condition, none could say.

  Alph sensed his stomach tighten as he peered over the edge again, the prospect of scaling those treacherous walls making his palms grow moist with sweat. Beside him, Pete's jawline subtly hardened, his knuckles whitening around his shield's handle. Both men kept their apprehensions to themselves.

  Lukan was already assessing the descent route, his experienced eyes tracing the natural ledges down the chasm face. "You two will use the jagged edges as footholds to climb down," he said, pointing to the scarred rock wall. "I'll stay topside to craft a rope from these birch fibers and keep watch. When you find Marcus, I can help pull you both back up."

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  Alph and Pete exchanged a grim look before nodding reluctantly. The weight of what awaited them below settled heavily on their shoulders. Pete exhaled slowly, his breath forming a small cloud in the cool air of the cavern. Alph flexed his fingers, trying to dispel the trembling that had begun in his hands.

  "Stay within earshot," Lukan called down softly as they positioned themselves at the edge. "And watch for loose rocks. The last thing we need is a rockslide alerting whatever else might be down there."

  Without another word, they began the perilous descent into the darkness below, their fingers searching for the first uncertain holds in the jagged stone. The rock face felt cold and damp beneath Alph's touch, occasionally crumbling slightly under pressure, sending tiny cascades of pebbles tumbling into the abyss. Each handhold required careful testing before committing his weight, the consequences of a misstep too grave to contemplate. Next to him, Pete breathed steadily, forcing calm despite the danger.

  The descent proved even more treacherous than anticipated. What had appeared from above as manageable ledges revealed themselves as precarious, crumbling holds that required constant vigilance. Alph's muscles burned with the strain of supporting his weight against the rough stone, his fingers growing numb from gripping the unforgiving rock face.

  Pete moved with methodical precision beside him, his chainmail creating soft metallic whispers each time he shifted position. The fighter's breathing remained steady, but Alph could see the tension in his shoulders as he tested each foothold before committing his considerable weight.

  Halfway down, disaster nearly struck. Alph's right foot found what seemed like a solid outcropping, but the moment he transferred his weight, the stone gave way with a grinding crack. His stomach lurched as he began to fall, loose rock cascading around him. His body responded with the enhanced reflexes of his profession—his left hand shot out instinctively, fingers finding a hairline crack in the stone wall while his feet scrambled for new purchase. The natural dexterity that came with his awakening guided his movements, allowing him to press himself against the cold rock face and regain his balance.

  "You alright?" Pete whispered, concern evident in his voice.

  Alph nodded, not trusting himself to speak until his breathing steadied.

  'Thank the spirits I awakened my Tier 0 Thief profession before this mission. Without those enhanced reflexes, I would have plummeted to my death just now.'

  The walls seemed to close in around them as they continued downward, blocking out more of the filtered daylight from above. Shadows deepened with each careful step, and the air grew noticeably cooler. Loose pebbles continued to rain down occasionally, their soft pattering against stone the only sound breaking the oppressive silence.

  Ten minutes of agonizing progress brought them finally to a narrow ledge of solid stone. Alph's arms shook with exhaustion as he pulled himself onto the relatively stable ground, Pete landing heavily beside him with a grunt of relief.

  They took a moment to survey their surroundings. The ledge stretched for perhaps twenty feet before disappearing into deeper shadows. Scattered debris littered the ground—broken branches, torn fabric, and what looked like pieces of leather gear. But most striking was the gaping tunnel mouth that burrowed into the rock wall ahead of them, its circular opening perfectly smooth and wide enough for three men to walk abreast.

  Alph stared at the tunnel entrance, his earlier doubts evaporating. The perfectly round bore through solid stone could only have been created by something massive tunneling through the earth. Lukan's speculation about an Earthrender might actually be true.

  He shrugged off his pack and retrieved a cylindrical lamp, its housing containing a softly glowing magical crystal. The standard-issue equipment cast a steady white light that pushed back the oppressive darkness, revealing the tunnel's smooth walls extending beyond their vision.

  Pete checked his sword and shield, then nodded grimly at Alph. Without words, they understood the necessity of pressing forward. If Marcus was anywhere to be found, it would be deeper in this unnatural passage.

  Together, they stepped into the tunnel's mouth and began their cautious advance into the depths.

  The perfectly circular passage stretched ahead of them, its walls polished smooth as glass by whatever tremendous force had carved it. Their footsteps echoed softly despite their attempts at stealth, the sound seeming to travel much farther than it should in the confines of the tunnel. Alph held the lamp ahead of them, its crystal's glow creating dancing shadows that made every curve and depression in the walls appear to writhe with life.

  Pete moved with his shield raised, sword ready in his other hand. His eyes constantly swept the tunnel ahead and behind them, the fighter's instincts on high alert. Every few paces, he would glance at the walls, as if expecting something to burst forth from the stone itself.

  Alph felt his own tension mounting with each step. The air here felt different—thicker somehow, carrying strange scents he couldn't identify. His enhanced senses picked up subtle vibrations in the stone beneath their feet, though whether from their own movement or something else entirely, he couldn't tell.

  After what felt like an eternity but was probably only a few minutes, Pete raised his fist in the universal signal to halt. Both men froze, straining their ears in the oppressive silence.

  The only sounds were their own controlled breathing and the faint hum of the magical crystal in Alph's lamp.

  Then they heard it—a wet, irregular splashing sound echoing from somewhere ahead, like something caught and struggling desperately in liquid.

  Without a word, Pete moved to take point, his shield raised and sword at the ready. Alph let the lamp drop to hang at his waist and drew a pair of long knives from the sheaths at his back, gripping one in a forward stance and the other reversed. The familiar weight of the blades in his hands brought a measure of confidence as he took position behind Pete.

  They advanced with agonizing slowness, each step measured and deliberate. The tunnel began to widen around them, the smooth walls curving outward until they opened into a vast cavernous space. Their lamplight struggled to penetrate the darkness, revealing only glimpses of the chamber's true size.

  The ground beneath their feet had changed from solid stone to something slick and viscous. Pete knelt briefly, touching the substance with his fingertip before grimacing.

  "Monster saliva," he whispered, wiping his hand clean on his chainmail.

  As they moved deeper into the cavern, the lamp's glow finally revealed a human figure on the far side—Marcus, alive but clearly in distress, his body writhing weakly against the thick, viscous strands of monster saliva that held him fast.

  But it was what loomed behind the trapped guild representative that made both mercenaries freeze in terror, cold sweat beading on their backs despite the chill air.