Even Death Grew Tired of Killing Me-Chapter 68 - 63

[First POV-Theo]

My palm stays pressed against the narrow window, fingers spread against the cold surface.

The stone feels wrong. Not just cold from being underground, but dense in a way that makes my skin prickle. Like it is aware I am touching it.

Below, I can barely see the chamber clearly anymore. The angle is awkward, and whatever barrier separates this space from the one Kyrene is in distorts sound and light. Still, I saw enough before the floor shifted and boxed me in.

Enough to know that Kyrene is not simply what he appears to be.

I replay it in my head.

The way the air bent around him.

The way the pressure in the room changed for a heartbeat.

And that shape.

It was faint but not solid either. Not something I could point at and confidently describe. But it was there, like heat rising off stone. A curve behind him. A ripple that did not belong to the chamber.

For the briefest second, it looked like a tail made of light.

Or maybe several.

I shut my eyes and rub at them.

Stress, adrenaline, trauma. The Thrall’s scream still echoes faintly in my skull, a phantom vibration that refuses to leave. My mind could be filling in things that are not real.

But the image does not fade.

Kyrene fights differently from anyone I have met in Aetherfall.

Captain Edrin fights like a soldier. Every movement grounded, efficient, controlled.

Astrae fights like a storm forced into a human frame, furious and proud even when wounded.

Kyrene fights like he is solving a puzzle no one else sees. And as if he had a thousand and more experience with the way he moved.

He does not rush unless he wants to. He does not overextend. He slips through attacks that should corner him, as if the world hesitates around him for just a fraction of a second.

And then he smiles.

"You really need to work on your mental defense," he teased earlier, like I had simply dozed off from boredom.

Like I had not nearly lost myself entirely.

I slide down the wall beneath the window and sit on the narrow ledge, my back resting against stone.

Who are you, Kyrene?

You were adopted into my family. You were supposed to be the quiet, sharp kid my parents saw potential in. You followed me here without hesitation. You fight for me without question.

And yet there are layers in you that do not match the surface.

I remember Astrae’s reaction the first time she truly looked at him. It was quick, subtle. A pause. A shift in posture. A head a little lower than her usual chinned up pride.

Not the casual kind. Not the kind given to a talented mortal.

The kind given to someone you recognize.

She never explained it. I never asked anyway.

Maybe I did not want to.

I tilt my head back and stare at the ceiling of this containment space.

There is another thought that presses at the back of my mind.

Madison.

The name slipped from my mouth earlier without warning.

I did not plan to say it. It just... surfaced.

And even now, when I think of her, I see amethyst colored eyes. Calm. Watching. And something else I cannot place.

Pain.

Not a sharp physical pain. A dull, steady ache in my chest, like I have lost something important and cannot remember what it was.

I do not know who she truly is to me. I do not know why her image feels carved into something deeper than memory. I do not know her before Aetherfall.

But the feeling remains.

I force myself upright.

Now is not the time to get lost in questions I cannot answer.

I need to get out.

I run my hands along the wall, testing for seams. The surface is smooth, almost unnaturally so. No visible joints. No glowing sigils like the other chambers.

I crouch and press my ear to the stone. Nothing. No grinding. No shifting.

When the lich pushed me out of the chamber, the hallway moved like a living thing. Walls slid into place without hesitation. This box is not permanent. It is a piece of something larger.

Which means it can move again.

I tap the wall lightly with my knuckles. Solid. Heavy.

I move to the narrow window and press my palm against the barrier. My earlier shout did not reach Kyrene. The sound did not echo. It felt redirected.

This space is not meant to kill me.

It is meant to isolate me.

To make me watch.

The realization settles uncomfortably in my stomach.

The lich did not strike at me first. It removed me from the equation.

Which means Kyrene is the one it truly wants.

My jaw tightens.

I lean closer to the window, straining to catch any movement below. The barrier distorts everything, like looking through thick glass underwater.

If I cannot fight from here, then I observe.

That has always been my advantage.

I close my eyes briefly and steady my breathing.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Panic will not move stone. Anger will not break barriers.

Patterns do.

When the hallway shifted earlier, there was a vibration first. A low rumble. Dust fell from the ceiling. The mechanism, whatever it is, cannot be instant.

Which means there is a transition point.

And transition points are weaknesses.

I stand and begin mapping the space in my mind. Height. Width. Distance from floor to window. The slight draft near the upper right corner. The faint difference in temperature along the left wall.

No system is flawless.

Not even one designed by something ancient.

Below, I hear the faintest echo of impact. Distant. Muted.

Kyrene is still fighting.

I press my hand against the barrier once more.

"Don’t lose," I murmur quietly.

I step back and straighten.

If Kyrene is hiding something, then I will uncover it eventually. Not because I doubt him, but because I need to understand the person fighting beside me.

If Astrae recognized something in him, then there is more here than coincidence.

And if I am being boxed in so I cannot interfere, then that means I matter.

Which means I can still influence what’s being plan.

I take another slow breath and begin tracing the walls again, this time more deliberately.

Because if this prison moves once, it will move again.

And when it does, I will be ready.

I have survived worse than being cornered.

I am very good at finding cracks.

~~~

I had just started pressing along the wall again, fingers tracing every seam I could feel, when the entire chamber shifted.

Not a small tremor.

The whole thing lurched.

Dust fell from the ceiling. The window flickered with distorted light. My balance slipped and I grabbed for the wall, heart jumping straight into my throat.

I looked down immediately.

Through the narrow opening I caught a glimpse of the chamber below. Kyrene was standing in the center, chest rising steadily, the skeletal knight no longer moving. He had won.

Even from up here, I could tell. I don’t really know what to feel. But I feel proud and relieve and still worried all at the same time.

He was scanning the area now, eyes sharp, as if expecting something else to appear.

Then the chamber shook again.

Harder.

The stone beneath my boots split open with a grinding roar. I barely had time to curse before the floor gave way completely and I dropped.

There was no graceful fall.

No controlled descent.

I slid.

The stone tilted and became a steep chute. My palms scraped against rough rock as I tried to slow myself, boots skidding uselessly. Cold air rushed past my face and the sound of grinding stone echoed above me.

It felt like I was being swallowed.

The passage twisted once, twice, then released me.

I hit ground hard and rolled, shoulder slamming against damp stone before I finally came to a stop on my side. The air down here was colder, heavy with moisture and something else that made my nose wrinkle.

Rot.

I pushed myself up onto one elbow and coughed.

Above me, the hole I had fallen through yawned open like a jagged mouth. A second opening tore itself apart in the ceiling several meters away.

Kyrene dropped first, landing in a crouch without even a stumble.

Astrae followed, less graceful. She hit the ground on one knee and caught herself with a hand, breath hissing between her teeth.

The ceiling sealed shut immediately after, stone sliding back into place like nothing had ever moved.

"Kyrene!" I called, already on my feet.

He turned toward me at once. "I’m here."

Astrae straightened more slowly and moved toward us. Even in this dim light, I could see how badly she had been hurt.

Her clothes was slashed in several places, dark stains soaking into the fabric beneath. There were fresh cuts along her arm and collarbone, some still oozing faintly. Yet she stood steadier than she had when I first found her bound in that sealing chamber.

Stronger.

Her breathing was heavy but controlled. Her eyes were focused.

"You’re hurt," I told her quietly.

"I’ve been worse," she replied, brushing off the concern with a small lift of her chin.

Kyrene stepped beside me.

For someone who had just fought a lich’s personal executioner, he looked almost... fine.

His clothes were torn at the shoulder, the stomach, side and along the hem, streaked with dirt and dark residue. But his skin was unbroken. No blood. No obvious injury.

Too clean.

I opened my mouth to ask.

Then I closed it.

This was not the time.

We all turned slowly, taking in our surroundings.

The chamber was massive, but not built like the previous rooms. It felt more natural, like a cavern carved by water and time rather than deliberate architecture. The ceiling arched high above us, jagged and uneven, with thin streams of moisture trickling down the stone walls.

It resembled a cathedral in shape, tall and hollow, but twisted by nature.

Broken stone columns rose here and there, not perfectly aligned, as if someone had once tried to shape the cave and then abandoned the effort. The ground was slick in places, patches of damp moss clinging to rock. Water dripped steadily somewhere out of sight.

And the smell.

It was thick.

Stagnant water and something decaying beneath it.

Kyrene inhaled lightly, nostrils flaring.

"We’re not in palace grounds anymore," he murmured, voice lower now. "At least not the central structure. This feels closer to a river system. Or some kind of underground water source."

Astrae nodded, eyes scanning the darker corners. "Yes. The air is different. Less... bound."

Bound.

That word lingered.

I swallowed and took a few careful steps forward, boots squelching slightly against the damp floor. The sound echoed more than I liked.

"I wonder how far did we drop..." I muttered.

Kyrene shrugged faintly. "Far enough I think."

The space was dim, lit only by faint bluish growths along the cave walls and the occasional crack in the ceiling where a sliver of light filtered down from somewhere far above.

For a brief moment, it almost felt quiet.

Then something shifted.

A faint movement across the ground.

I froze.

Kyrene’s head snapped toward the sound immediately. Astrae’s posture changed, shoulders tightening, hand lifting slightly as if ready to summon power.

The ground ahead of us rippled.

At first I thought it was just water.

Then the surface broke.

A hand pushed up through the mud.

Not clean bone.

Not fresh flesh.

It was swollen and gray, skin hanging in strips, fingers bloated and cracked. The nails were blackened, some missing entirely.

It dragged itself forward, followed by an arm attached to a body that should not have been moving.

Another shape rose beside it.

And another.

The damp earth split in dozens of places.

Then hundreds.

Rotting forms began to pull themselves free from the ground like they had been buried shallow and impatient. Some crawled, some staggered to their feet. Their clothes were remnants of armor and rags fused into their decaying flesh. Eye sockets glowed faintly with sickly light or were simply empty, leaking dark fluid down ruined cheeks.

The smell intensified instantly.

Putrid.

Wet decay mixed with river sludge.

I stepped back instinctively, heart thudding.

"Almost hundres of them," I breathed.

"More," Astrae corrected quietly.

They kept rising.

Bodies half dissolved, rib cages exposed, jawbones hanging loose yet still moving. Some were missing limbs and dragged themselves forward with fingers digging into stone. Others lurched upright with jerking movements, heads tilted at unnatural angles.

The sound filled the cavern.

Not of screams.

Just wet shuffling and the low, broken rattling of air forcing its way through ruined throats.

Kyrene’s expression shifted, the faint ease gone.

"Well," he muttered lightly, though his eyes were sharp. "That explains the smell."

One of the decaying figures twisted its head toward us. Its jaw split wider than it should, skin tearing at the corners, and it began to crawl in our direction.

Then another followed.

Then the entire mass began to move.

Slow at first.

Then faster.

I tightened my grip, mind racing.

We had just come from battles that nearly tore us apart, and now this.

No rest.

No time to breathe.

Astrae exhaled once, steadying herself.

"Do not let them surround us," she warned.

Kyrene rolled his shoulders slightly and took a step forward, placing himself just ahead of us.

"Then let’s not give them the chance," he replied calmly.

The first wave of decaying bodies lunged.

And the cavern filled with the sound of a hundred dead things trying very hard to live again.