Spooktober 2025: Peril

Last Part Spooktober 2025: Pits   As I ran up the slope, the cave narrowed in on me, and the narrowed even more. Eventually I was crawling, forced to my hands and knees. My skin started to burn as the stone scraped my knees, hands, and even my back at parts. Eventually I noticed a lightening ahead, a faint glow promising safety, I hoped, but at least a change from the oppressive darkness.   When I finally dragged myself out, I found a hollow carved into the mountainside, open to the night. Stars wheeled overhead—too fast, too close. I tasted metal on my tongue and realized I had bit my lip, though I do not remember when.   Below, the land dropped into a valley veiled in fog. A faint orange light flickered far below, fire or eyes, I couldn’t tell. My head swam. The staff vibrated softly in my grip, almost humming.   “You shouldn’t be here.”   The voice was close, low, and certain. I turned. A man stood at the edge of the hollow, hood down, eyes reflecting the same unnatural blue as the torches from before. His armor was old, pitted with rust.   “Who are you?” I asked.   He smiled faintly. “The same as you. Once.”   Before I could answer, he lunged—too quick, too deliberate. The staff met his strike with a crack that rang like thunder. Sparks leapt between us, blue and gold. For a heartbeat, I saw another place—rows of altars, chanting voices, my own hands slick with blood.   When my vision cleared, the man was gone, only ash and the faint smell of honey left behind.   I collapsed to my knees, trembling. The bruise on my chest throbbed in time with my pulse, in time with the pulse of the staff in my throbbing hand, and with the pulse of a faint red star growing ever brighter in the night sky   Below, in the fog-choked valley, I thought I saw movement—blue torches winding upward, dozens of them.   They were still coming.   And this time, I wasn’t sure if I was the hunted or the guide, as I fled towards the mountain peak.   Next Part Spooktober 2025: Barrow