With each step down the concrete stairs, Abel led the slow descent into the tight tunnel. A lingering smell of smoke burned Spriggan's lungs, though his collared face covering filtered the air he breathed. Behind him, Dawn took up the rear in the hidden passageway, as the tapping sounds of her sharp talons against the concrete flooring echoed with each step.

  Following with his hand on Abel's shoulder ahead of him, Spriggan allowed him to guide him. Except for the scattered, concentrated mixtures of horrified blacks, regretful reds, and hopeless blue, Spriggan felt blind compared to the nocturnal vision Abel and Dawn had from their respective Vampiric and Draconic ancestry.

  And as the darkness in the corner of his eyes crept and crawled in the absence of stimuli, Spriggan heard the distinct sound of Abel flicking through the pages of his sketchbook until it came to a stop. Despite not noticing a change in his or Dawn's aura, Spriggan felt a shot of fear while visionless, as his nerves grew unbearably tense, like the scarred stranger would burn through the shadows at any second.

  Instinctively, Spriggan's grip grew tight around Abel's shoulder as he came to a halt and began flicking through the pages of his sketchbook. An unfamiliar sound of metal bits came from in front of him – when suddenly a light from a Swiss Army knife lit up. Now able to see a small area on the grey concrete wall to Spriggan's right, a streak of dried blood, that looked like it was baked on the secure structure, was highlighted before Abel passed the tool of hardened ink back to him.

  "Thanks," Spriggan whispered from beneath his breath, his words feeling suppressed through the thick darkness and bitter silence surrounding them. And with only a silent nod, Spriggan flashed the light forward, its dim, magically fueled bulb giving him just enough light to see a few feet into the long, haunting hall – though it didn't ease the hair on his neck that stood on edge.

  Now able to look around the cramped corridor, the lingering colors of dread stood out in the monochrome environment, making it very clear something grim had happened. As Spriggan cautiously crept forward, he noticed the layer of ash that covered everything except for the sparse hand streaks of boiled crust.

  Wading forward nonetheless, Spriggan wasn't sure if the other two felt the same way, but the further they got, the more it felt like they'd walked through wide jaws that could bite into them as they trekked into the belly of the beast – but Spriggan wouldn't falter or retreat, not while there was a chance to stop whatever was happening.

  Holding their position in the air around them, the soot slowly drifted with the weak airflow as it began clinging to their skin and clothes. The unfiltered air obscured the little light Spriggan had and filled their noses with the burning, smoky smell. Abel swiftly tied his handkerchief over his nose and mouth, and at the same time, from behind Spriggan, Dawn's neck grew longer as three horns on each side of her head grew out from her scaled face.

  Regardless of the bad air, they waded further into the heavy darkness, which had a palpable thickness to it, or maybe that was the hesitating fear that Spriggan pushed through.

  An audible silence rang in Spriggan's ear; only the crunching sound of broken glass beneath their feet interrupted the deafening lack of stimulus. Feeling suppressed, the further they went, the echo of their cautious footsteps and Dawn's taloned tapping grew quieter as they ventured deeper into the unknown.

  Despite the eerie absence of sound, they stepped forward through the unfamiliar and dreary environment.

  Scanning ahead of them, Spriggan's attention was drawn to a cloud of black energy. His flashlight hovered over the source, illuminating a blackened pile of bones. The scorched remains, its flesh burned away from the body, exhibited a snaking pattern of hateful emotions. Spriggan didn't believe there could be anything else to feel when tragically dying in this way.

  In spite of the life lost, they continued onward, Spriggan unyielding to the tunnel's haunting atmosphere. Coming to a stop in front of him, Abel gave Spriggan the chance to look over his shoulder to see the blown-apart remains of a thick metal door, the damaged pieces seemingly blasted into the now-exposed room. Wordless, Abel ducked through the damaged door to enter the small, square room.

  Following him in, Spriggan slowly scanned the room that smelled of smoky rot, the three corpses coming to his attention. The first was burned to a blackened skeleton while hiding behind the remains of a partially melted table. Another scorched corpse had seemingly been melted onto the room's fridge, with many of their bones broken from a great force. The last victim's charred remains were shattered from the waist up by a chunk of the vault door's shrapnel, which pinned him against the concrete walls. All of the dire pain in their final moments lingered in the small space, despite their passing.

  A frown formed beneath Spriggan's collar as he forced himself to look away from the tragic mess. His small light turned to Abel, who looked toward the sky at something unseen by them. At the same time, Dawn remained quiet as she searched through sealed cabinets, their melted doors, requiring her immense strength to pull them free.

  Standing in the middle of the ashen room as his friends began investigating, Spriggan, while attempting to ignore the grim reality around them, scanned the area with the dim light he'd been given. Except for the destroyed desks, chairs, and office furniture, nothing in particular stood out until he pivoted to face the room's remaining side.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Glancing toward an empty side of the space, Spriggan could see an open door, at the base of which another human life was lost. As Spriggan looked closer, he noticed a swirling cloud of emotion that leaked from the opening like a crawling fog. The indistinct mixture of dark colors drew him in, his body instinctively walking toward the calling of a distressed feeling—Spriggan believed that it came from someone other than the four victims in this area.

  With the painted Swiss Army knife vibrating as he got further from its summoner, delicately stepped over the darkened carcass, and while it filled him with guilt to walk over this lost soul, he felt there was no other choice. His gut, similarly to when he chased after the scarred stranger, told him to continue through despite the dangers that could possibly befall him.

  Tensely bracing for whatever awaited him, he entered the larger room despite the chill running down his spine. Luckily, nothing immediately jumped out at him as he uneasily advanced, though he quickly noticed that this part of the underground facility, even considering the fire that ravaged it, was emptier than the one at the entrance.

  Further into the quietness, it became apparent that the room was separated by a tall set of metal bars. As Spriggan stepped forward, his stomach dropped from sight from within the tight space, where the dark emotions of excruciating pain and unimaginable agony manifested through a plume of black and red.

  Still emitting a reminder of their suffering long after their passing, Spriggan saw the huddled pile of fifteen to twenty burned bodies, all curled into the fetal position in a heap. From his distance, it looked as if each of their bones varied, with many tiny, child-like remains at the center of the mound of death. Unable to peel his gaze away from the tragedy, Spriggan felt a wave of nausea at the horrors before him, though he refused to lean on the bars for support; a part of him felt like he would be desecrating their remains if he relied on what seemingly held them captive.

  While not entirely sure what could have been happening before this or what could have been the reason behind all this death, Spriggan started to assume that the person he fought was the one who caused it. Though that didn't help him understand why these people were trapped in these inhumane conditions.

  Unable to pull himself away from the terrible display of bodies, whose moment of demise by a cruel inferno was captured with a bleak, hopeless dread that crept up the back of his mind. Spriggan, while hoping this didn't happen after he failed to stop him, fixated on the small set of bones - the group of prisoners seeming to protect the younger in the center during a final plea for goodness.

  Lost in the horror that befell this hidden bunker, Spriggan suddenly felt a sharp, reptile-like hand placed on his shoulder. Startled, he jolted and pivoted to turn around, the vines on his arm ready to lash out at the threat.

  Though, thankfully, it was just Dawn in her taller dragonic form, the look on her face clearly worried as she looked downward at him.

  "Hey, I've been calling for you. Is everything alright?" she asked with a concerned look on her worried face, her gaunt nose and distinct features still recognizable to him despite their longer shape.

  "Yeah," Spriggan answered solemnly, the energy from the cell breathing down his back. While he spoke, Dawn glanced past him before she gently guided him away from the cell that smelled of rancid decay.

  "Come on, Abel thinks he heard something from a ghost," Dawn said as she ushered him into the first room. He allowed her to help him get out of that room; otherwise, there was no telling how long he'd be mourning the loss of life. He entered the more compact and comfortable office area where Abel stood with a subtle look of worry that cut through the outer layer of unreactiveness. Spriggan, probably one of the few people who could somewhat read his unreactive nature, could also see the anxious energy that leaked from his psyche while his Manifest was active.

  Silent, he watched as something unseen caught Abel's attention again. Dawn provided a sense of comfort with her reliable presence and strong frame as she stood next to him. Thankfully, the two of them made the terror he felt more bearable, though Spriggan still hoped to escape the dreadful scene of death before whoever did this came back, even if he told himself there was a realistically slim chance they'd return at this very moment.

  "What did you hear?" Dawn cut through the heavy silence to ask. Her tone sounded rushed, Spriggan believing that, like him, she wanted to get out of here sooner rather than later. Watching as Abel returned his attention to him and Dawn, Spriggan listened, hopeful that he learned something useful from the sense only he had.

  "It's nothing much, unfortunately. But a lingering soul here kept mentioning a man with a scarred face," Abel said with uncertainty. His mention of a scar made Spriggan think back to the shattered mirror-like scar he saw during his fight with the stranger.

  "Is that it? The ghost isn't willing to tell us anything else?" Dawn asked, unsatisfied, as she slowly began walking toward the hall they had entered.

  "Yeah. They don't remember much after their transition into death, but they made it clear that the scarred man did this, be it in their own way," Abel answered before following toward the exit. Lingering, despite him being tired of standing in the sickening smell of death, Spriggan waited a moment to think.

  "What are we supposed to do with that, though? There are a countless number of Cognizants with facial scars," Dawn questioned plainly. And she was right; the task was nearly impossible, except he believed this had to be done by the one who nearly killed him.

  "The guy I fought that night had a big scar that almost looked like a cracked window on his face, and I'm pretty sure his flames could do this." Finally entering the conversation with his idea, Spriggan followed after his friends.

  "Then it seems we've found everything we'll learn from this catacomb, so let's head back to the dorm for the night," Abel decisively said, with Dawn in the lead this time as they began their walk down the stuffy hall.

  "Alright..." Spriggan said, as he began to believe that the scared stranger didn't just destroy the laundromat to hurt him in the fight, but to attack something similar to this place under the shady motel.

  But Spriggan, assuming the scarred stranger wouldn't destroy his secret bunker, still didn't understand what this place was built for and why there were people held inside. Spriggan believed that catching the scarred stranger would be the first step to understanding what was going on, and as the three exited through the long passage, the bleak aura from the other room pulled at him until they made it up the stairs. Though he promised to put them and their departing emotions to rest by stopping whatever was happening.