Gunmage-Chapter 31: Carve the runes

Lugh fixed his gaze upon the enigmatic woman, maintaining his silence. She mirrored him, doing the same.

Time stretched thin between them, each second an eternity. Yet, she remained.

His eyes flicked downward, noting the grime and dirt clinging to his bare feet, then rose again to meet her unwavering stare.

"Who are you?"

He finally asked, his voice low and raspy.

"That's a good question,"

She replied, before lapsing back into wordlessness. They held each other's gaze for a full minute, neither speaking.

Lugh's patience frayed.

"Why are you here?"

"Do you want to know?"

She countered, amusement laced through her clear and melodious voice.

A flicker of irritation sparked beneath his tiredness, but his expression remained cool and indifferent.

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't."

"In that case—"

She murmured, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes

"—I won't tell you."

Lugh exhaled slowly, a sigh of suppressed frustration. He pushed himself upright, his joints protesting with creaks, and began walking away.

Dain followed, his movements unnatural and distorted, like a marionette in the hands of an amateur.

To his dismay the woman trailed silently behind them, her footsteps light as a feather.

Lugh's body burned with exhaustion—his legs throbbed, his throat felt like a desert, and hunger gnawed at his insides. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten.

It was a miracle he'd lasted this long, a fragile one, one that was sure to come to an end.

He came to a halt, his body demanding rest, and his procession of followers stopped in unison.

All three stood in stillness, faces devoid of expression, as if carved from cold stone.

'What an amazing atmosphere'

Lugh thought, sarcasm flickering in his eyes.

They had reached the place where Lieutenant Dain had first found him—or what should have been that place.

The grotesque remains of the dog-like creatures were gone. No torn flesh, no twisted limbs. Even the blood that had once stained the floor had been wiped away, as if scrubbed clean by unseen hands.

It was as if they had stepped into a different corridor altogether.

And they had.

'The maze is shifting,'

Lugh realized, a cold weight settling in his gut. It was insidious, subtle—impossible to notice unless one was paying attention.

Even if they wandered its passages for a lifetime, they would remain lost, trapped in an ever-changing labyrinth.

He needed an alternative.

His gaze swept the floor, searching, careful to avoid the jagged edges of the countless bones littering the ground.

Finally, he found what he needed. It was a small, smooth shard of bone, honed to a wicked point, like a pencil.

Lugh picked it up, it was cold to the touch.

Then, he looked at his arm.

A moment of hesitation.

'Can I really do this?'

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The thought barely had time to form before he shoved it aside. Hesitation was useless. He pressed the bone against his skin—and drove it in.

Pain flared, a sharp, white-hot jolt that sent a tremor through him. His face contorted, breath hissing between his teeth.

But he didn't stop. He took deep breaths, afterwhich he dragged the bone across his flesh in a decisive stroke.

Blood welled, warm and red, spilling down across his arm. His nerves screamed in protest, the pain a raw, blistering agony.

Somewhere behind him, the woman stirred.

"Oooh? Can you already hear the voices?"

Her voice was laced with something unreadable—curiosity, perhaps. Or amusement.

Lugh bit back the urge to scoff.

'B*tch, the 'voices' have been hounding me since I stepped foot in this place.'

But he wasn't about to let her know that. Instead, he replied evenly,

"Aren't you all-knowing?"

A chuckle escaped her lips—low, hushed. Then, without warning, it cracked into full-blown laughter, a sound unhinged and wild.

"All-knowing?"

She gasped while struggling to catch her breath.

"Ha! Hahahaha!"

Her laughter swelled, echoing through the corridors, unraveling the aloof mask she had worn.

Lugh watched with bewilderment, as the composed, enigmatic woman fractured before his eyes.

His carefully crafted image of her collapsed into dust.

'What a lunatic'

Then he gritted his teeth, and pressed the bone against his skin once more, dragging another line into his arm.

Blood welled anew, another searing stroke of pain. The runes were nearly complete, intricate symbols etched in red.

Some more self inflicted torment, and they were fully formed.

'Now what?'

He had followed the whispers. Carved the runes they dictated. Now what?

Nothing.

Lugh felt his patience run thin.

'Are they messing with me?'

Then—

"^@%@^&*,"

The woman whispered.

Lugh felt his thoughts freeze. The syllables were incomprehensible, yet they struck something deep within him, a place beyond reason.

She gave him a fleeting, almost apologetic smile

He licked his dry lips.

"...^@%@^&*."

The world dimmed.

The air thickened, turning dense and heavy, pressing against his skin. A sudden chill swept through the corridor, unnatural and biting.

The runes on his arm pulsed with an eerie light, casting a ghostly glow across his bloodied skin.

The woman raised a single finger to her lips.

"Now hush,"

She whispered.

"Unless you want them to listen."

Lugh froze.

Through his normal vision, the corridor remained unchanged—empty, silent. But through his other sight, the one that glimpsed the unseen, the world twisted.

Shadows slithered at the edges of perception, writhing like ink in water. Figures drifted like smoke, their shapes shifting, contorting, waiting.

Waiting for something.

He had no idea what they were. But if he was to describe them in one word it will be

Phantoms

Lugh swallowed against the dryness in his throat.

Then he whispered.

"Show me the way out."

The shadows stirred.

A flurry of movement, silent and chaotic. They gathered around him, a storm of darkness and shifting limbs, their forms flickering in and out of sight.

Lugh used every ounce of his willpower to keep from trembling.

Then—suddenly, without a sound—they vanished. Melted into the walls, as if they had never been.

The silence was deafening.

Lugh exhaled, slow and deliberate. He took a step forward—

—and walked straight into the wall.