Anomaly
Author: Rowen
Chapter 325 â The Primordial Fear [43]
When we entered the passage, the first thing I noticed was how the chain of ravines seemed far larger on the inside than it ever did from the outside. Stone walls rose around us, tall and oppressive. Above, an unbroken fog hung in the air, too dense to allow any glimpse of what lay overhead; everything vanished into a dull, silent white.
Unfortunately, that only made everyone more on edge. We had no idea when or how something might appear, whether it would come from ahead, from behind us, from the narrow corridor we were moving through, or even down the slopes of the ravine walls.
The deeper we went, the less it felt like turning back was even possible. I donât know if the others felt the same way... personally, I doubt it. With one exception, of course: Victor.
From time to time, he cast long, heavy looks over his shoulder. And it was in those moments that I felt it. Something behind us was moving. Not footsteps, not wind, but the passage itself.
The stone walls seemed to silently rearrange, tightening for a moment, as if the ravine were breathing, alive, aware of our presence.
It was a subtle sensation, almost impossible to prove... but enough to make me understand that with every step forward, the way back was becoming less and less possible.
I wasnât actually seeing what was happening, no matter how hard I strained my eyes. I was moving through a deeper section already swallowed by the fog, a thick curtain my vision simply couldnât cut through. All I knew was that something, without a doubt, was underway.
All I could hear were strange sounds: stones being dragged from one place to another, sometimes so faint they seemed meaningless, almost imagined, other times so loud it felt as though the ravine itself were alive, like some ancient monster shifting its massive body in the bowels of the earth every few minutes.
As I drifted in my thoughts, staring upward at the ravine towering above us, Rupert broke the silence with a sigh and said in a visibly weary tone: âHow long have we been walking?â
Arthur answered. He was studying the surroundings with restrained curiosity. I couldâve sworn there was something different about his monocles... of course, aside from the fact that they themselves were already anomalies: âIâm not sureâ he said after a brief pause: âMaybe around thirty minutes? Sorry, I stopped counting after that noise we heard a few minutes agoâ He tilted his head slightly.
Rupert shrugged, putting on an almost convincing air of indifference, as if it didnât matter in the slightest. Before the silence could stretch again, another voice cut in, one of the reaction team members: âActually, itâs been about thirty-seven minutes and twenty-seven seconds... twenty-eight nowâ
Everyone turned to look at him. Despite the helmet, I recognized him by his voice. He had a distinctly nerdy look, the kind of person you imagine behind a lab desk: simple-framed glasses, a slightly hunched posture, and an air that felt more academic than combat-ready.
Honestly, he seemed far more like a scientist than a member of an anomaly response team, no offense, of course. On top of that, his build wasnât exactly athletic. He didnât look fragile, like a walking skeleton, but he definitely wouldnât be a top contender if he ever decided to compete in the Olympics.
Noticing all the eyes on him, the man lifted his shoulders in a casual shrug: âWhat? I figured it might be useful at some pointâ
Setting aside our earlier conversation, we kept moving forward along the narrow path, not that we had much of a choice. The stone walls seemed to be closing in around us, forcing us to proceed in single file, step by step.
And the deeper we went, the stronger that feeling became: we were close... very close to my sister. But, ironically, the closer we seemed, the farther away our destination felt.
The path ahead gave the impression of stretching on endlessly, as if it would never end, almost as though she were always just a few steps ahead, out of reach.
At times, I had the strange sense that the trail, once so tight, was starting to widen, not in space, but in distance. Maybe that doesnât make much sense. Still, that was exactly how it felt: close enough to almost touch her... and at the same time, far too distant to reach her.
I wasnât sure exactly when it started, but I began to feel faint tremors beneath my feet. At first they were so subtle that no one but me seemed to notice them. Still, they didnât stop, on the contrary, they gradually grew stronger, as if something... someone... something was slowly drawing closer to where we were.
When small stones began to break loose from the walls and roll across the ground, the others finally realized that something was wrong. We kept moving, but now their eyes were fixed on the ravine above, tracking every shadow and every crack of rock, curiosity and confusion written across their faces.
Then Victor stopped. I was the first to notice, followed by Rupert, then Arthur, and finally the members of the anomaly response team. One by one, everyone turned to him.
Victor stood motionless in the middle of the path, his shoulders slightly tense, his face angled downward as if he were staring at something invisible on the ground. There was unease in his expression, an uneasiness that was hard to put into words.
âDo you feel that?â he murmured, his voice low, almost swallowed by the silence around us.
It came out barely above a whisper, yet still loud enough for those of us nearby to hear. At once, everyone fell silent, frozen in place, as if the very air had stiffened around us. Each of us strained to catch whatever it was Victor might have noticed.
I did the same, though technically I already knew what was happening. Just as Iâd expected, the small stones scattered across the ground began to tremble and hop, clicking dryly as they bumped into one another, as if something large and heavy were slowly approaching our position.
The vibration was subtle but constant, traveling through the ground and up through my feet. I wasnât the only one who felt it. Low murmurs, full of unease and dawning understanding, began to ripple through the group. Whatever was causing it, it was coming straight for us.
At first, it was only something faint, a pressure at the back of Victorâs mind, warning him that something was wrong, though he couldnât tell what. All he knew was that the uncomfortable feeling had begun to close in on him minutes after they slipped between the canyons.
The air felt heavier, and a chill ran down his spine like a silent warning. Every instinct screamed that anywhere would be better than this place, that if they went on, they might never come back.
And now? Victor, as always, had the nagging certainty that he should have listened to his instincts. Instincts that werenât merely intuition, but an anomalous ability, one that had saved him from near-certain death more than once.
Because of that ability, Victor had avoided situations that were clearly bad, problems far beyond his own strength. And yet, here he was again, cornered by his own choices.
Victor hated to admit it, but over the past few months his missions had been growing more dangerous, more unpredictable. And now, with his heart racing and the uneasy sense that something had gone wrong, he knew it: his instincts had tried to warn him.
The sounds were getting louder, closer. The tremors, once sporadic, now came in short, steady waves, making the ground vibrate beneath his feet.
Victor lifted his gaze, following his instincts, and turned toward the anomaly that was with them. It stood motionless, rigid as a statue, staring at something behind him, toward the upper canyons, where the rock seemed to shudder, as if something were moving inside the mist.
Without thinking, Victor turned to the exact spot it was watching. There was nothing there, at least nothing his eyes could make out.
Still, he was absolutely certain he had seen something: a slight distortion in the fog, as if the air itself had bent for a moment, a movement almost imperceptible above them.
He couldnât say what it was. And, to be honest with himself, he didnât want to know. He felt no curiosity about discovering it. All Victor understood was simple and instinctive: it was dangerous.
The instant he became aware of the anomaly, his senses reacted before his mind could form any thought. Something inside him shouted a single word, short, clear, unavoidable. The same word he was already thinking.
Without a second thought, Victor sucked in as much air as he could and shouted at the top of his lungs: âRun!â
As if answering Victorâs thunderous cry, something above, something he couldnât see, roared. It wasnât just a sound: it was a brutal, overwhelming roar, with a frequency so intense it made his chest vibrate from the inside, as if the air were being compressed against his very bones.
There was something in it that was strangely hard to describe: it resembled the deep song of a whale, yet at the same time the metallic groan of a massive vessel tearing through open sea and plunging into the silence of the ocean. The sound seemed to spread through the space around them, warping the air itself.
But in the end, no matter how hard he tried to compare it to anything he knew, Victor found a far more honest description. It wasnât just bizarre. It was terrifying, a noise utterly incompatible with anything he had ever heard on Earth, as if it belonged to something that simply should not exist in that world.
The rocks around them began to shake as the thing, whatever it was, drew closer. Fragments of stone broke loose from the cliffs, and larger chunks plunged into the abyss as that presence clung to the canyon walls, advancing slowly and relentlessly toward Victor and his companions.
None of them needed a second order or a single word. At once, hurried footsteps and the metallic chorus of armor rang across the ground as they all bolted forward, trying to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the thing that pursued them without mercy, whatever it truly was, dragging itself through the mist just behind them.
âWhat the hell is that thing?!â Rupert shouted at the top of his lungs, not even daring to look back as he ran.
âDoes it matter?!â Victor yelled back, forcing his legs beyond their limit. The uneven ground sent sharp bursts of pain through his legs, and behind them the sounds were getting closer and closer, something heavy, dragging... and hungry: âItâs definitely not friendly. And it wants to eat us alive!â
Victor had no idea what it was. He didnât care to find out, either. All he knew was that the thing was hunting them, driven by a cruel instinct, ready to tear them apart, or do something just as horrific.
And more than anything else, one truth hammered in his mind: he wasnât going to stand there and wait to see what would happen if it caught him.
Unfortunately, that only made everyone more on edge. We had no idea when or how something might appear, whether it would come from ahead, from behind us, from the narrow corridor we were moving through, or even down the slopes of the ravine walls.
The deeper we went, the less it felt like turning back was even possible. I donât know if the others felt the same way... personally, I doubt it. With one exception, of course: Victor.
From time to time, he cast long, heavy looks over his shoulder. And it was in those moments that I felt it. Something behind us was moving. Not footsteps, not wind, but the passage itself.
The stone walls seemed to silently rearrange, tightening for a moment, as if the ravine were breathing, alive, aware of our presence.
It was a subtle sensation, almost impossible to prove... but enough to make me understand that with every step forward, the way back was becoming less and less possible.
I wasnât actually seeing what was happening, no matter how hard I strained my eyes. I was moving through a deeper section already swallowed by the fog, a thick curtain my vision simply couldnât cut through. All I knew was that something, without a doubt, was underway.
All I could hear were strange sounds: stones being dragged from one place to another, sometimes so faint they seemed meaningless, almost imagined, other times so loud it felt as though the ravine itself were alive, like some ancient monster shifting its massive body in the bowels of the earth every few minutes.
As I drifted in my thoughts, staring upward at the ravine towering above us, Rupert broke the silence with a sigh and said in a visibly weary tone: âHow long have we been walking?â
Arthur answered. He was studying the surroundings with restrained curiosity. I couldâve sworn there was something different about his monocles... of course, aside from the fact that they themselves were already anomalies: âIâm not sureâ he said after a brief pause: âMaybe around thirty minutes? Sorry, I stopped counting after that noise we heard a few minutes agoâ He tilted his head slightly.
Rupert shrugged, putting on an almost convincing air of indifference, as if it didnât matter in the slightest. Before the silence could stretch again, another voice cut in, one of the reaction team members: âActually, itâs been about thirty-seven minutes and twenty-seven seconds... twenty-eight nowâ
Everyone turned to look at him. Despite the helmet, I recognized him by his voice. He had a distinctly nerdy look, the kind of person you imagine behind a lab desk: simple-framed glasses, a slightly hunched posture, and an air that felt more academic than combat-ready.
Honestly, he seemed far more like a scientist than a member of an anomaly response team, no offense, of course. On top of that, his build wasnât exactly athletic. He didnât look fragile, like a walking skeleton, but he definitely wouldnât be a top contender if he ever decided to compete in the Olympics.
Noticing all the eyes on him, the man lifted his shoulders in a casual shrug: âWhat? I figured it might be useful at some pointâ
Setting aside our earlier conversation, we kept moving forward along the narrow path, not that we had much of a choice. The stone walls seemed to be closing in around us, forcing us to proceed in single file, step by step.
And the deeper we went, the stronger that feeling became: we were close... very close to my sister. But, ironically, the closer we seemed, the farther away our destination felt.
The path ahead gave the impression of stretching on endlessly, as if it would never end, almost as though she were always just a few steps ahead, out of reach.
At times, I had the strange sense that the trail, once so tight, was starting to widen, not in space, but in distance. Maybe that doesnât make much sense. Still, that was exactly how it felt: close enough to almost touch her... and at the same time, far too distant to reach her.
I wasnât sure exactly when it started, but I began to feel faint tremors beneath my feet. At first they were so subtle that no one but me seemed to notice them. Still, they didnât stop, on the contrary, they gradually grew stronger, as if something... someone... something was slowly drawing closer to where we were.
When small stones began to break loose from the walls and roll across the ground, the others finally realized that something was wrong. We kept moving, but now their eyes were fixed on the ravine above, tracking every shadow and every crack of rock, curiosity and confusion written across their faces.
Then Victor stopped. I was the first to notice, followed by Rupert, then Arthur, and finally the members of the anomaly response team. One by one, everyone turned to him.
Victor stood motionless in the middle of the path, his shoulders slightly tense, his face angled downward as if he were staring at something invisible on the ground. There was unease in his expression, an uneasiness that was hard to put into words.
âDo you feel that?â he murmured, his voice low, almost swallowed by the silence around us.
It came out barely above a whisper, yet still loud enough for those of us nearby to hear. At once, everyone fell silent, frozen in place, as if the very air had stiffened around us. Each of us strained to catch whatever it was Victor might have noticed.
I did the same, though technically I already knew what was happening. Just as Iâd expected, the small stones scattered across the ground began to tremble and hop, clicking dryly as they bumped into one another, as if something large and heavy were slowly approaching our position.
The vibration was subtle but constant, traveling through the ground and up through my feet. I wasnât the only one who felt it. Low murmurs, full of unease and dawning understanding, began to ripple through the group. Whatever was causing it, it was coming straight for us.
At first, it was only something faint, a pressure at the back of Victorâs mind, warning him that something was wrong, though he couldnât tell what. All he knew was that the uncomfortable feeling had begun to close in on him minutes after they slipped between the canyons.
The air felt heavier, and a chill ran down his spine like a silent warning. Every instinct screamed that anywhere would be better than this place, that if they went on, they might never come back.
And now? Victor, as always, had the nagging certainty that he should have listened to his instincts. Instincts that werenât merely intuition, but an anomalous ability, one that had saved him from near-certain death more than once.
Because of that ability, Victor had avoided situations that were clearly bad, problems far beyond his own strength. And yet, here he was again, cornered by his own choices.
Victor hated to admit it, but over the past few months his missions had been growing more dangerous, more unpredictable. And now, with his heart racing and the uneasy sense that something had gone wrong, he knew it: his instincts had tried to warn him.
The sounds were getting louder, closer. The tremors, once sporadic, now came in short, steady waves, making the ground vibrate beneath his feet.
Victor lifted his gaze, following his instincts, and turned toward the anomaly that was with them. It stood motionless, rigid as a statue, staring at something behind him, toward the upper canyons, where the rock seemed to shudder, as if something were moving inside the mist.
Without thinking, Victor turned to the exact spot it was watching. There was nothing there, at least nothing his eyes could make out.
Still, he was absolutely certain he had seen something: a slight distortion in the fog, as if the air itself had bent for a moment, a movement almost imperceptible above them.
He couldnât say what it was. And, to be honest with himself, he didnât want to know. He felt no curiosity about discovering it. All Victor understood was simple and instinctive: it was dangerous.
The instant he became aware of the anomaly, his senses reacted before his mind could form any thought. Something inside him shouted a single word, short, clear, unavoidable. The same word he was already thinking.
Without a second thought, Victor sucked in as much air as he could and shouted at the top of his lungs: âRun!â
As if answering Victorâs thunderous cry, something above, something he couldnât see, roared. It wasnât just a sound: it was a brutal, overwhelming roar, with a frequency so intense it made his chest vibrate from the inside, as if the air were being compressed against his very bones.
There was something in it that was strangely hard to describe: it resembled the deep song of a whale, yet at the same time the metallic groan of a massive vessel tearing through open sea and plunging into the silence of the ocean. The sound seemed to spread through the space around them, warping the air itself.
But in the end, no matter how hard he tried to compare it to anything he knew, Victor found a far more honest description. It wasnât just bizarre. It was terrifying, a noise utterly incompatible with anything he had ever heard on Earth, as if it belonged to something that simply should not exist in that world.
The rocks around them began to shake as the thing, whatever it was, drew closer. Fragments of stone broke loose from the cliffs, and larger chunks plunged into the abyss as that presence clung to the canyon walls, advancing slowly and relentlessly toward Victor and his companions.
None of them needed a second order or a single word. At once, hurried footsteps and the metallic chorus of armor rang across the ground as they all bolted forward, trying to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the thing that pursued them without mercy, whatever it truly was, dragging itself through the mist just behind them.
âWhat the hell is that thing?!â Rupert shouted at the top of his lungs, not even daring to look back as he ran.
âDoes it matter?!â Victor yelled back, forcing his legs beyond their limit. The uneven ground sent sharp bursts of pain through his legs, and behind them the sounds were getting closer and closer, something heavy, dragging... and hungry: âItâs definitely not friendly. And it wants to eat us alive!â
Victor had no idea what it was. He didnât care to find out, either. All he knew was that the thing was hunting them, driven by a cruel instinct, ready to tear them apart, or do something just as horrific.
And more than anything else, one truth hammered in his mind: he wasnât going to stand there and wait to see what would happen if it caught him.