Secondary Story - Chapter 3 (Patreon)

She takes a deep breath, allowing herself that luxury now that the creature seems to be gone, now that she has a decision to make. Now that it was…

The thought comes to her as she looks around the shaft. There were no hallways, no corridors, no left, no right. There was only up and there was down. It was a climber. At least a D-class then. She feels a cold chill run along her body, a warning sign from her subconscious telling her that she was in over her head. That she should turn around and go back the way she had come from right now. Right this very second and for a moment she was ready to listen to it.

She shakes her head, too strongly willed to listen to it anymore. As soon as her foot finds its grip a single step back behind her, the thoughts of what she would be walking back towards return. The intensity of her wishes to break free return. The dream of the city, of her own store. The want. The greed. The need for more. More crystals. More money. More medicine. More life. She inhales and puts her foot back forward and then with all the courage she can muster takes another step towards the breach; placing her bare skin onto the stinging latticework metal floor, which somehow felt even colder than the stones.

The catwalk creaks and groans as she places the meager weight of one leg on it, half expecting it to collapse down at any moment; to rip out and tumble down into the void below. Mustering the rest of her courage she places her other foot down onto it and waits for another fearful moment as her whole body now presses its weight onto the suspended platform. She waits for it to collapse, to send her falling to her death.

But the old construction holds on tightly, not like some of the other segments she can see missing from back here already. No matter if she went up or if she went down it would be a long way to go in either direction. The only question is which way was safe? Neither probably. The bot had gone in one direction though and she would be wise to go in the other. Looking up at the spiral ring of stairs stretching on for as far as she can see however, the girl quickly makes up her mind. She would go down, it would be easier. Faster. It would use less energy at least until she had to go back up them later on.

Wiping the sweaty, greasy hair out of her clammy face again with her shoulder she turns right and goes down the first, creaking metal step. Then the next. Then the next. Each step she takes becomes quicker, faster, lighter. Each step she takes sends a jolt into her heart that tells her that the end will come at any second, that she will fall through and die at any second. But it doesn’t and she doesn’t.

Nonetheless Pen goes as fast as she can, her bare feet slapping loudly against the metal steps of the spiral staircase. The sharp echoes seem to ring out from the far side of the room, even at this great distance throughout the empty tube. The dull hum of the crystal however trails off into the darkness rather meekly, diluting and fading away like a vivid wine poured into the ocean. Just overwhelmed by the crushing amount of everything else. By the crushing presence of the ink that seems to swallow all of those noises before they can escape their origins, smothering them in the cradle of her arms. Her fear never quite leaves, but becomes distant and numb simply by virtue of her state of action. By her being active and pacing well down the spiral stairway without thinking, by descending down the crumbling, decrepit ancient metal infrastructure her mind has no time to focus on things like the fear that was festering inside of it like a bubbling poison.

Minutes pass. The deeper she goes, the more it becomes clear how cold the air is becoming now as a rising current of wind always wafts up from the bottom of the abyss. A wind blown from the frozen over hell-mouth, a wind that shears against the brick walls, projecting an occasional whistle as it finds a sharp corner; some broken light or brick on the way. A wind that bites through her ragged dress from below, nipping and gnawing away at the little warmth she was keeping in her bones. She presses the crystal tighter against herself and keeps on descending.

Something creaks and she stops in her tracks to listen. She listens to the few noises there are to hear in the darkness. There is a steady howl of the wind from below, of that winter sting. There is her raspy, heavy breathing. There is the gentle hum of the crystal she holds and then, there is the creak. A strained, painful metal groan from above her head; from the spiral-rung of the stairs just above where she stood that she had walked over before on the way down. Groaning and aching in agony like a weathered elder with pain in his joints. Something gives and a single piece of metal falls from above, a single tiny screw striking down on the stairs behind her with a surprisingly loud, sharp, clear clash that shoots out like a ripple through the black ocean. The noise echoes through the chamber with an acuteness, with a distinct intensity that none of the previous sounds could achieve. A single ding like a glass struck before a toast.

She takes a step further downward and away from the spot she stood. Her body is tense and her hearing rings from the slight metal strike of the screw. Her sensitive ears perk up again as she hears the forbearance of the next one to come. The beginnings of the metal ache to come, of the happening she can foretell by the continued pained groaning from above. The girl turns back towards the downward path and runs, sprints as fast as she can now down the steps and over the occasional flat segments, completely ignoring the potential of a future collapse before her now. The possibilities of the floor falling out from beneath her feet weren’t as real and as imminent as the thing about to happen behind her.

Pen runs as fast she can, her feet slapping the bare metal grid painfully and then she finally hears it, surprised it took so long. The second part of the construction’s final dying act. The loud, labored screech of the walkway above shifting, loosening from the stone as it is finally ready to rest eternally. As its eons long hold to the wall is finally beginning to let loose, its grip finally releasing; perhaps due to her movements across it a few moments before. Gritting her teeth and clutching the crystal that holds more value to her than her life she runs, jumping down staircase after staircase in her panic. Getting as much distance as she can befo-

The world explodes as an iron dragon roars to life. A vibration shoots through the platform and her mind stings with the incredible pain of the wrenching, scraping metal sound shooting through her ears. Of the crashing, clashing steel, of the jagged metal scraping against stone and against itself as the catastrophe unfolds above, falling down onto the layers below. Falling down just behind her; down where the screw fell a second before as the spiral staircase falls apart.

As the staircase behind her, above her begins to collapse down unto itself and fall apart piece by piece, hurtling down into the maw of darkness waiting down deep; there is a fresh sound like a deathbound howl that seems to never leave. A shrill, shrieking scream that never grows quieter. Only as her chest burns and head becomes light, she realizes that the scream is her own.