Anomaly

Author: Rowen

Chapter 306 – The Primordial Fear [24]

We continued our descent in complete silence, my black wings, still smoldering, holding us aloft as we drifted slowly into the depths. After the terrifying sight of the colossal eye we had witnessed minutes earlier, no one seemed to have the strength, courage, or even the will to speak.
I can’t read minds or emotions, but I’m almost certain that, at that moment, most of them felt profoundly stupid for having accepted this mission without the slightest idea of what truly awaited them.
Obviously, I’m not saying they don’t usually face life-or-death situations on other missions. It would be naïve of me to claim that.
Still, I’m not so innocent as to have missed a pattern over time: whenever I, or my sisters, are directly involved, missions inevitably escalate.
And when I say escalate, I mean it in the most literal sense possible. What once seemed dangerous becomes catastrophic; what was difficult turns downright impossible.
These are situations that go beyond any conceivable human limit, challenges no man, no matter how prepared, stubborn, or desperate, could ever resolve, no matter how hard he tried.
I tried to imagine how much longer we would keep descending. Honestly, I started to think this place didn’t even have a bottom. If I’m being truthful, I was already seriously inclined to believe we’d have to do something, anything, just to finally reach somewhere. Then, completely unexpectedly, my eyes caught sight of what looked like an opening several meters below.
When I got close enough, I realized it wasn’t a simple crack, but something far larger. It was like a ceiling stretching out in every possible direction. The place we had come from was, quite literally... well, a massive hole in the ceiling of something that could only be described as a vast underground cavern.
“Where the hell is this?” The question echoed through the comms, heavy with irritation and disbelief. It was the voice of one of the reaction team members: “The more I see, the less any of this makes sense... How the hell does something like an underground cavern exist inside a gigantic mouth we found drifting in the middle of the ocean?”
“Somehow...” another member of the reaction team hesitated for a moment, scanning the surroundings as if still trying to convince himself of his own conclusion: “I’m starting to think the idea that we ended up in another dimension isn’t all that stupid” he said, his voice slightly uneasy.
“Shit. I’m making damn sure to demand a bonus for all this crap when I get back” another one grumbled, his voice thick with irritation: “After that, I’m taking a real vacation somewhere warm with my wife and kids... preferably someplace very far away from the ocean”
Other members of the reaction team began voicing their thoughts as well, their voices overlapping in the endless darkness. For the most part, they complained about management and their own jobs, excessive shifts, poorly explained orders, badly calculated risks.
Honestly, though, it sounded less like real outrage and more like a coping mechanism: complaining so they wouldn’t have to face the fact that we were dozens of meters below sea level, slowly descending into an unknown place, swallowed by the mouth of a colossal maritime anomaly.
Ignoring all of that, I focused on my surroundings, forcing my eyes to pick up anything other than darkness. Still close to the colossal opening, I raised my hand and ran it along the ceiling above me.
The sensation was still strangely pliable, yielding slightly to the touch, but it didn’t feel like the same material as... well, the thing we had entered through.
Instead, it reminded me of freshly cut grass, soft, unpleasantly damp. It was a strange comparison, but at that moment, I felt genuinely grateful not to be touching something that felt like flesh.
My black wings beat once more, and my body slowly descended until my feet touched the ground. The moment they sank slightly into the damp grass, my dark, smoking wings dissipated, like shadows being pulled back in, returning into my body.
And no, you didn’t hear that wrong. For some inexplicable reason, there was a grassy floor inside a colossal aquatic anomaly, or at least, I hoped it was actually grass.
“What the...?” Rupert started, cutting himself off as he slowly turned his gaze around, his brow furrowed and disbelief written all over his face: “What kind of place did we get ourselves into?” he finished, letting out a sigh full of resignation. When he opened his eyes again, he lightly kicked the grass beneath his feet, feeling how soft and absurdly real it was, then raised an eyebrow in clear suspicion: “Also” he added with a nervous half-smile: “it’s seriously disturbing for there to be grass down here when, last I checked, we’re supposed to be inside a colossal aquatic anomaly”
“I think, so far, we’ve been pretty lucky” Victor remarked, his voice echoing through the space and drawing everyone’s attention. Feeling their eyes on him, he just shrugged and added in a casual, almost unconcerned tone: “I mean, we didn’t get smashed, sliced, eaten, blown up, or subjected to any other creative way you can imagine. And we’ve been here for about thirty seconds now... and nothing has jumped out of the dark to kill us yet”
As strange as it was to admit, Victor did have a point. Truth be told, we hadn’t even been attacked by anomaly after anomaly. Between one bout of chaos and the next, there had been brief pauses that allowed us to breathe, even if only for a moment.
The real problem is that when you spend so much time running for your life, it becomes almost impossible to notice how long it’s been since the last time you didn’t have to flee just to survive.
Some members of the reaction team seemed to agree with Victor’s words, at least to a certain extent. Others, however, wore expressions that made their skepticism clear.
I could understand both sides. After all, if what we’d been through so far couldn’t be called bad luck, I don’t know what else would qualify.
From my point of view, at least, nearly being crushed by gigantic tentacles or devoured by a spider that dripped corrosive saliva already counts as more than enough bad luck for a single day.
Still, even as I listened to their words, my mind remained completely focused on the sensation that had begun to surface the moment we landed.
It was still diffuse, hard to define or trace clearly, but it no longer felt like it had on the surface. Before, it spread chaotically, as if coming from every direction at once. Now, though, there was something different.
A subtle thread, almost instinctive, emerged from that confusion, a kind of silent sense I felt I could follow, even without fully understanding where it would lead me.
Without saying a single word, I began to move, advancing toward the direction where I could sense something amid the absolute darkness surrounding us.
My eyes cast a faint glow that tore through the darkness, illuminating only a few steps ahead, nowhere near enough to truly see what awaited us, but enough to guide our feet.
Victor, Rupert, and the members of the reaction team said nothing. In absolute silence, they followed me, weapons steady in their hands, automatically taking up strategic positions.
One covered the front, others kept constant watch on the flanks, while the rear stayed protected, ready to react to any unexpected movement. The only sounds were our measured footsteps and the soft metallic click of equipment, echoing steadily through the darkness.
I glanced back briefly, turning my head toward them before continuing forward. My feet sank slightly into the soft, still-damp grass, while a strange wind, far too cold for that moment, brushed against my skin, coming from no discernible direction.
Althea’s wings, attached at her tailbone, beat softly, keeping her suspended in the air with steady, effortless grace. Every movement was precise and delicate, almost calculated, making her look like a small doll floating in the void. The gentle ripple of feathers produced a faint whisper, nearly imperceptible.
Althea kept her eyes closed, lost in her own thoughts. And, inevitably, they led her back to her beloved older sister. She wasn’t exactly worried, at least, not consciously.
The truth was that she missed her... yes, she did. Still, it would be dishonest to deny that beneath that soft nostalgia lay a quiet unease, a silent concern that stubbornly refused to fade.
From Althea’s perspective, her sister was invincible. In fact, she was certain all the sisters shared that belief, and in that regard, Althea was no different. The difference was that Althea tended to be more logical than the others, analyzing situations with almost mathematical detachment.
While she didn’t believe her sister could run into trouble, at least as long as any conflict could be solved through sheer physical force, Althea couldn’t ignore the possibility of vulnerability when it came to psychological matters.
There was something about her older sister’s thought patterns that still felt strangely human: subtle hesitations, poorly concealed emotions, doubts that shouldn’t exist at all. Most likely, that was because she hadn’t fully recovered her memories yet.
For Althea, things had been different. Despite having inhabited a human body, her mind and soul remained intact, the same as those of the creator and caretaker of life, immune to the emotional limitations that still bound her sister.
Letting out a slow breath, Althea opened her eyes. In front of her was a white room with smooth, cold walls and several pieces of furniture scattered about in an improvised arrangement. A few narrow beds, wooden wardrobes, and some chairs filled every available corner, as if the space had been hastily adapted.
Personally, Althea felt the place was already starting to feel cramped, not just for her, but for her sisters as well. There were many of them, and the space had clearly never been designed to house so many “Anomalies” as the humans insisted on calling them.
At the very least, the human women, Emily and Laura, already seemed aware of this and appeared to be preparing something to help them, especially now that yet another sister was on her way.
When her thoughts returned once more to Tenebrya, Althea’s expression grew slightly more serious. She was tired of waiting for news and decided she would see for herself how things were really going. And, if necessary, she would find a way to help.
Just because she couldn’t interfere directly didn’t mean she was forbidden from guiding events or offering subtle advice. After all, her older sister had never specified that part, and Althea knew perfectly well how to work between the lines.

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