The stairwell from Floor B4 wound downward in a steep corkscrew—each step narrower than the last. The walls here weren't made of stone, nor root, nor metal.
They were bone.
Or something very close to it.
Porous, pale, etched with shallow markings like veins or script that had been half-erased by time. The deeper they went, the more the walls began to curve in, until it felt like they were descending into the throat of something that had once been alive.
They didn't speak.
Every time a boot scuffed the floor, the sound echoed not down the tunnel, but back up—muffled and warped, like the stairs themselves were swallowing the noise.
When they reached the threshold of Floor B5, the sigil glowed a pale, trembling white.
Mira touched it.
And the humming started.
At first, it was quiet.
So faint Thane wasn't even sure it was real.
A breath.
A murmur.
A song with no words, just a vibration beneath the surface of thought.
He paused at the threshold, his eyes narrowing.
The others walked ahead, unaware.
The floor opened into a long hallway of pale ivory, branching in six directions—each tunnel covered in carvings that had long since faded. The air was warm. Too warm. Like someone had lit a fire too far away to see but close enough to feel.
Then the humming grew louder.
And became voices.
He looked at the girls.
Sova rubbed her eyes, blinking like something had gotten in them.
Mira swayed slightly, blinking too much, jaw slack.
Seren reached for the hilt of her sword unconsciously.
Then paused.
She looked back at Thane.
"Do you hear...?"
He nodded once.
"All of us?" Mira asked.
"No," Thane said. "Just you."
"What?"
But he was already stepping forward.
The first encounter came just thirty meters into the eastern tunnel.
Figures.
Human-shaped, but incomplete.
Like wax statues that had begun to melt. Some had arms that stretched too long, or legs that didn't end in feet but hands. Faces twisted sideways, mouths where their eyes should've been.
They didn't walk.
They floated.
And as they approached, the song intensified.
Each note clawed at the edges of reason—memories, regrets, old dreams half-forgotten.
Mira staggered first.
She gripped her staff with both hands, knuckles white, eyes wide.
"I hear my brother," she whispered.
"He's saying my name."
Sova pulled an arrow and loaded it with shaking hands.
"Mine's dead," she muttered. "Why can I hear him?"
Seren turned, voice low and hard.
"This is illusion magic. A high-level kind."
"No," Thane said softly.
"It's not an illusion."
The wax-things didn't stop.
They reached out with hands that wept heat, their mouths humming the same song.
And when they came too close—
The girls snapped.
Seren surged forward with a shout and drove her blade through the first creature's torso. It shrieked, not in pain, but in harmony—the pitch of its scream matching the note of the dungeon's hum.
Sova's arrow hit the second between where its eyes should've been.
It shattered.
Mira cast Dispel Veil—and the third one warped, cracked, and split into two.
Wrong spell.
Wrong response.
Thane watched silently.
Then lifted one hand and cast Lava Geyser.
The spell punched through the ground beneath the remaining two creatures, launching them upward, their distorted forms liquefying midair.
When they landed, there was nothing left but sizzling ooze.
Silence returned.
The hum faded slightly.
But didn't vanish.
Seren wiped her blade, breathing hard.
"That wasn't an illusion," she said again.
Thane looked at her.
"No."
"Then what was it?"
He was quiet a moment.
Then said:
"Resonance."
They pressed deeper into Floor B5.
The hallways weren't straight anymore.
They looped.
Twisted.
Doubled back on themselves even when the party marked the walls.
At one point, they entered a chamber, fought off a dozen of the wax-things again, and only afterward realized they'd already been there.
"I marked that stone," Sova whispered, pointing at a triangle etched with her dagger.
Thane nodded.
"They're not making us see things. They're making us feel like we're still moving forward."
Mira shivered. "So we're stuck?"
"No," Seren said, pointing to the center of the room.
"Look."
In the middle of the chamber, a figure stood.
Not moving.
Not breathing.
A statue.
But its surface pulsed faintly, like breath under skin.
It had no eyes.
Just a mouth, stretched wide, with a slit carved down the center of its chest.
It was singing.
Not aloud.
Psychically.
Feeding the dungeon's hum.
Seren whispered, "We kill it, the floor breaks."
"Agreed," Sova said, already lining up a shot.
But Thane stepped forward first.
He didn't chant.
Didn't raise a hand.
He just thought the spell into existence.
Scorch Zone.
It flared around the statue like a ring of judgment.
Then Burning Chain lashed up and over its form, anchoring it to the floor.
Then Flame Arc.
Then Magma Sword.
Then silence.
The statue cracked.
Screamed one last, perfect note—
Then shattered.
The song stopped.
And for the first time on Floor B5…
Silence returned.
True silence.
The wall at the far end peeled open.
Not physically.
It simply recognized them.
The safe zone sigil hovered just beyond.
They passed through without a word.
All four of them were breathing hard.
Even Thane.
That night, the girls didn't talk much.
Mira sat closest to the fire, blanket over her shoulders.
Sova ran a cloth over every arrow, inspecting them for signs of warping or enchantment.
Seren cleaned her blade, slow and methodical.
And Thane?
He stared at the fire.
But not really.
He was watching the song echo in his head, still barely audible.
Still whispering.
He wasn't afraid.
He was curious.
Status Check:
📈 Level: 4
🧪 EXP: 87 / 160
📜 Meteor Blueprint Progress: 2.4%
He cast Firebolt into the darkness.
Just once.
Watched it flicker down the hallway and fade.
Then said softly:
"I'm still listening."