Lukas stood with Erandyl and Rysenth, the silence between them heavy, each of them staring out into the darkness that stretched before them. The fire they had left behind was nothing but ash and memory, its light extinguished. Now, the only source of respite from the darkness were the floating violet shimmer of the portal, pulsing faintly as though it were alive, and the small iron lantern Rysenth carried in his one good hand. Both were of his own making yet even together their glow was weak, feeble against the swallowing black that surrounded them. The light from Rysenth's creations did nothing to settle their unease, for each of them knew the danger that lay ahead.

There had been no time to form a perfect strategy, no chance to weigh their options in the careful manner of generals preparing for war.

What they had was rough, hastily stitched together—a plan born of necessity rather than choice. Yet it would have to suffice.

Erandyl stood at the fore, her figure framed against the sheer wall of stone at the tunnel's end. Her eyes caught the light briefly as she looked back over her shoulder. Lukas met her gaze and gave the smallest nod. Rysenth mirrored him, silent but resolute.

That was all Erandyl needed.

Then she finally began to move.

The stone wall before them trembled, shifting under her command. Rock and soil drew back, grinding against each other in a roar that filled the passageway. She, like the others, was bound by the oath sworn upon entering the Ancestral Lands. Yet she was still Erandyl Telaryon, Dragon Lord of the Earth, heir of the Great House Telaryon that ruled the very bones of these lands and just like how the Seas obeyed Lukas' every command, the earth itself bent not just to her Divinity but her will itself.

Lukas felt the vibrations rattle through his body as the rubble parted, forming a path where no path had been. Erandyl moved forward without hesitation and immediately she broke into a sprint. The tunnels beneath the Ancestral Lands seemed endless, a web of stone and shadow that pressed close on every side. But here, beneath the surface, she was not bound by these structures of the past. These tunnels meant nothing to her; boundaries were simply illusions.

If she wished to carve a road through solid stone, the earth obeyed without question.

But the noise of her passage was immense. Each stride sent shards of rock clattering away, each gesture grinding stone against stone until it echoed like thunder in the confined space.

Lukas clenched his jaw, glancing behind them at the darkness they left behind.

Every sound was a beacon, drawing attention, but there was no other way so Erandyl simply continued as fast as she could; the ground reshaping itself in a blur to keep ahead of her with Lukas and Rysenth close behind. And then, from the depths of the tunnels they had left, came another sound.

At first it was distant, faint, like the whisper of something too large to truly exist. But as they pressed forward, it grew—rising in volume, rising in hunger. The air itself seemed to vibrate with the low, bestial sound, each moment sharpening it into something nearer, something undeniable.

Lukas felt his heart tighten.

His foe approached him now, the sounds of the earth parting to allow Erandyl to pass drawing it to them like a moth to a flame through these tunnels below the Ancestral Lands.

Even then, Erandyl did not stop. She pushed faster, her power surging outward as the earth raced to accommodate her pace. The walls widened, the ground smoothed beneath her feet. Lukas did not know how far they had to go but what he did know was that he trusted her. For Erandyl Telaryon was the Dragon Lord of the Earth. If anyone could guide them through this labyrinth and get them to where they needed to be, it was her.

Yet even with that trust, he could not silence the beating drum of his heart. The creature was closing in on them and in these echoing tunnels, there was nowhere to hide.

Eventually, despite all the speed they could muster, the three Lords of Linemall could not outrun it.

The sound behind them grew heavier, the ground trembling with each monstrous stride. Lukas's heart thudded in rhythm with the quakes, his chest burning as he forced his legs to move faster.

Lukas and Rysenth shared a look at one another in the dim, violet glow of the portal's flickering light and the weak, shivering flame of the iron lantern. For this plan to work, it was their duty to hold the beast back, to keep it from Erandyl. Only she could bend the earth and only she could lead them where they needed to go. Without her, they would be lost forever in these tunnels below the Ancestral Lands.

The thing was no small beast skulking in the dark.

The closer it drew towards them, the more Lukas realized its enormity. It was vast—perhaps as large as he himself when fully transformed into his draconic form. Its bulk was unnatural, slithering and thundering all at once, its movements shaking the earth as though the caverns themselves recoiled from its presence.

Lukas' lungs burned as he forced himself onward, yet he could not resist a single glance back. And Lukas wished he had not looked at all.

The beast was grotesque in every sense of the word.

Its body was a swollen, writhing mass of sinew and flesh, bloated and twisted as though sculpted in mockery the living. From its bulk sprouted multiple serpentine necks, each ending in a head that should never have existed. They grinned—every one of them—jaws stretching wide with rows of needle-like teeth glistening in the pale light. Their skull-like faces were half-hidden beneath stretched, leathery flesh while their mouths were torn wide as if locked forever in laughter, tongues lashing like vermin escaping from rotten carcasses.

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The heads moved independently, swaying and twisting, their eyes empty pits of hunger, their tongues flickering as though savoring the scent of prey long before the kill. Some heads snapped at the air, others gnashed and drooled, and the sound of their collective breathing was a wet, rasping chorus that echoed through the tunnels like the moans of the damned. It was as if a dozen corpses had been given the chance to crawl from their graves, fused together into one obscene parody of life, then set loose to wreak havoc as it pleased.

The creature's many throats emitted low growls that overlapped into something almost like laughter. The sound of it scraped along Lukas's nerves, making his stomach twist in disgust. This was not merely some common beast—it was a nightmare sculpted into flesh, something birthed not of nature but of blasphemy.

Lukas could scarcely believe his eyes.

He had faced monsters before, creatures born of magic and madness, but nothing like this. Nothing so wholly, deliberately wrong. It was horror given form.

And then he turned to see Rysenth's own expression as he turned to face the horrible creature.

Where Lukas felt disbelief and revulsion, Rysenth's eyes carried something more.

Horror, yes—but also…recognition. There was a flash of familiarity in his eyes, as though the thing clawing its way toward them was not unknown to the Dragon Lord of the Flames.

"Rysenth!" Lukas roared, trying to pull him back to reality but it was to no avail.

The Dragon Lord of the Flames stumbled and lost his footing. All it took was that split second for the creature to close that distance between itself and its prey. Its heads lunged forward, grins widening, the stink of decay rolling off it in waves.

Just minutes ago, they had all agreed that no matter what happened, they would not stop running. They would not stop if it meant leaving one of their own behind. It only made sense for Lukas to choose to press forward, to stay close behind Erandyl and protect her, to leave Rysenth to fend for himself against this creature.

So that was what he would do.

Lukas' eyes widened as he watched the beast tear into Rysenth like a ravenous animal. There was nothing measured in its movements, no cunning nor restraint—only unbridled hunger, its heads snapping and lunging with the savagery of a starving pack.

But the Dragon Lord of the Flames was not unprepared.

His lantern fell, shattering light across the ground, as he freed his one good hand. With a desperate reach, Rysenth thrust his hand into the purple portal beside them and withdrew a massive shield—iron-forged, broad as his own frame, and built to endure the heaviest of blows. Its teeth clashed against metal with shrieks like knives across stone, each strike forcing Rysenth backward. The monstrous heads crashed against the shield Rysenth had pulled from the portal, one after another, gnashing and writhing, their tongues slapping wetly against the metal. Rysenth held them at bay but it was clear the Dragon Lord of the Flames could not hold back the beast for long.

With every impact, the creature's full weight bore down on him, forcing his knees to buckle. Lukas knew it was only a matter of time before Rysenth would be reduced to nothing more than another corpse like those that had littered these cursed tunnels.

And then Lukas moved.

With a roar that shook the cavern, he hurled himself sideways into the creature's flank, driving every ounce of strength and momentum into the blow. The impact thundered through the stone as the creature was thrown against the cavern wall, dust exploding outward in choking waves. The heads shrieked in pain, their wails a discordant choir that rattled Lukas's skull.

But he knew better than to think the fight was won.

Lukas lunged for Rysenth, seizing his good arm and hauling him upright.

"On your feet!" Lukas barked, voice edged with fury. Rysenth stumbled, still clutching his shield, his lips parting as though to offer thanks. But Lukas cut him short with a glare. "Pull yourself together!" he snapped at the Dragon Lord of the Flames. "We don't have gorydamn time for this!"

There would be time for questions and answers later.

The creature was already rising, writhing forms shifting as it tore itself free from the wall, eyes blazing with venomous hunger. Its many throats heaved, and a noxious mist poured forth—green and vile, spreading through the air like rotting breath given shape.

Lukas gritted his teeth and braced himself, backing away but still facing the terrible creature, with Rysenth right by his side. It was their job to ensure that they allowed Erandyl to continue on and get them to where they needed to be.

But Lukas froze as he took a glance towards the Dragon Lord of the Earth.

Erandyl had stopped. But she had stopped not because of them, not because she worried for their lives. She stood still as stone, her eyes fixed on the abomination before them. Lukas had seen recognition in Rysenth's gaze, but in Erandyl's, there was something far worse: It was the look of pain unspeakable. Not just the pain of fear or battle, but grief—deep, harrowing grief. It was the same look Lukas had only once before seen etched into her face the moment Erandyl had learnt of the Lady Kaitlyn's death.

"No…" Erandyl whispered, her voice breaking. "It can't be."

The words struck Lukas harder than the beast's roar. And then the truth came crashing over him like a wave of ice. This monster. This horror. This wretched, many-headed nightmare of flesh and fang…

The realization tore at him even as the creature lunged again, tongues snapping, its grins stretching impossibly wide.

Erandyl's whisper carried the name like a blade through the silence:

"Hydraria…"

This was no nameless creature.

This was Kaela Telaryon's daughter who had lost her mind to the Crest during her battle against Rysenth.

This was the Earthborn that the world of Hiraeth once called the Hydra.

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