The air grew heavier and heavier as they pressed on, leaving behind the frantic storm of the library’s cursed tomes. The corridor before them stretched long and narrow, the walls slick with moisture, the scent of damp stone and ancient decay clinging to every breath. It was dank and cold, the kind of chill that seeps into the bones, clinging to the skin uncomfortably, like a sodden cloak.

Their hooves struck a loud, steady rhythm against the uneven stone floor as the narrow passage opened up into a vast space that gaped before them like the yawning maw of an ancient, forgotten beast. It was a cistern, its shadowy boughs spreading out before them like an oil-dark ocean beneath the earth. Pillars, tall and ancient, rose like the trunks of petrified trees, fleeing into the darkness above. Water—black as ink—filled the chamber, lapping gently against the base of each column. The surface was still, stagnant, and smelled faintly of rot, like the steadily-dying memory of the lives that had once lived here.

Castalla moved cautiously, her pale gaze sweeping over the expanse, but there was no end in sight, just a labyrinth of pillars reading for the towering ceiling above, fading into shadow. The water clung to her legs as she waded in, thick and sluggish, each step sending ripples spreading out into the silence. The sound of her hooves sloshing through the water echoed eerily, echoing back at them from unseen corners of the vast cistern, like the ghosts of others who had once dwelt here.

Aislinn shuddered, as much from the chill as the shadows looming all around them, her soft voice barely above a whisper as she followed behind, her hooves hesitant in the cold, dark waters. “It feels… wrong,” she murmured, her breath fogging in the chill. Autumn had clambered onto her back, fur bristling, cleaning away any of the filth that clung to her fiery fur.

Karlach grunted, her steps bold but cautious, the water sloshing higher around her legs as she glanced warily at the forest of columns. "Place's as quiet as a graveyard," she muttered, her voice low and tense. Beaky fluttered on her shoulder, unusually quiet, his small form rigid with a deep-rooted unease.

Wolf, ever unbeholden to the caution that bade his companions steady their steps, splashed ahead a little further, his eyes scanning the darkness. “It’s just water, right? What’s the worst that...” His words died on his lips as a distant splash echoed through the cavern, louder than their own steps.

They all froze. The sound was unmistakable. Something else moved in the dark.

“Well done,” Castalla hissed, though there was no malice in her voice.

The water rippled again, farther out this time, the surface bulging unnaturally as something large disturbed it. The cistern, once still and silent, now seemed alive with the faintest tremors, each one closer than the last. The sound grew—a steady, rhythmic sloshing, far heavier than their own steps. A deep, foreboding splash echoed again, and this time, there was no mistaking it.

In the distance, the black surface of the water rose, swelling over something that moved beneath, something massive. It sliced through the water like a sword with unnatural speed, its shape just beneath the surface, an ominous shadow rushing toward them, unseen but unmistakable.

Castalla’s breathing steadied, her muscles tensing, blinking into the gloom as she tried to make out the shape beneath the water, but it remained hidden, a dark force charging through the stagnant depths.

"We draw it back to dry land. Now," she ordered, her voice an insistent whisper, but the urgency was clear.

The water stirred again, closer this time, and the columns around them seemed to loom taller, like ancient sentinels watching as something terrible approached.