Auron stepped cautiously into the subway tunnel, and the cold, damp air clung to him like a second skin. The scent of mildew seemed to barely mask something older, something strange. Underfoot, the concrete had gnarled from the weight of forgotten memories and the whispers of countless travelers who had once passed through this now-desolate place.

  After making his first turn out of the entrance's sight, bioluminescent plants came into view, clinging to the walls in sparse patches. Their faint blue glow stretched into the shadows, creating long, wavering shapes that seemed to twist and ripple as he moved. The pulsing light was faint and uneven, jittery, like the faltering beat of a dying heart.

  Auron stopped beside one of the clusters, cautiously leaning in. The tendrils swayed faintly despite the air's stillness as if moved by an unfelt breeze. He frowned. The sight made him uneasy.

  "What the hell is wrong with this place?" His whisper seemed unwelcome in the silence.

  The quiet felt alive, as if the tunnel itself had countless ears implanted in its recesses. Then the reply came: a sharp drip of water striking the ground, breaking the stillness like shattered glass. Auron flinched, his head snapping toward the source, but the sound had already faded. Somewhere in the distance, metal groaned faintly, like the remnants of a collapsing memory.

  This isn't normal.

  The thought clung to him as he pressed deeper. The plants grew denser, their glow stronger but somehow more menacing, as if the light carried an intent he couldn't name. Despite their glow, the darkness didn't recede. The subway felt like a space where light and shadow congregated in silent rituals. Except the silence whispered in tongues.

  His gaze shifted to the graffiti on the walls. At first glance, it was chaotic, with overlapping scrawls and tags painted in every color. But as he ran his fingers along a patch of peeling paint, the falling flakes exposed older markings beneath. It was like pulling at the edges of an old wound, uncovering something that had never quite healed.

  Auron jerked his hand back, the unease tightening in his chest. He could almost hear the ghosts of laughter and conversations, cut off abruptly by the screech of metal on metal and the groan of bending iron. Time here looped like a vinyl groove stuck on the word "why."

  The subway's oppressive silence returned in a thick torrent. Every sound he made felt wrong, like a disruption in a place that wasn't meant to be disturbed. Fear wasn't screamed here; it was murmured in the rustle of rats through refuse, in the half-seen movement of shadow against shadow.

  As Auron rounded a corner, the plants became an overwhelming presence. Their vines crawled across the walls, spilling into the cracks and corners, leaving no space untouched. The graffiti disappeared entirely, consumed by their sprawling tendrils. They pulsed faintly in irregular rhythms, their light waxing and waning as though responding to some invisible signal.

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  His breath hitched as he spotted a green light up ahead. This was sharper, colder, and steady. The bioluminescent plants flared briefly, their light sending a wave down the tunnel as if reacting to whatever lay ahead.

  Auron swallowed hard, his pulse quickening. He thought about pulling out the Watcher's Cover but stopped short. He wasn't sure it would help here.

  This place didn't just feel abandoned. It felt like a trap.

  The heavy silence twisted into something sharper as Auron took another step forward. The greenish light remained distant, its source hidden, but its presence was impossible to ignore. The plants pulsed again, their fluorescence erratic, almost frantic, like they were trying to lure him. Or warn him.

  Finally, the tunnel widened. Auron stepped into a vast chamber whose walls arched outward like the ribs of some long-buried beast. Cracks webbed across the concrete, and faint remnants of broken tile clung to the edges where the walls met shadow. The faint bioluminescent glow of the plants lit the space unevenly, but only up to a point.

  Near the center of the chamber, the plants stopped entirely. They formed a distinct perimeter, their absence sharper than any light. The ground beyond them was bare, lifeless, as though the plants themselves had refused to grow closer.

  Auron stepped forward, his breath catching as his eyes found the archway. The gateway rose from the center of the chamber, towering and imperious. Its dark, stone-like surface absorbed the faint light, giving it an almost liquid depth. Auron slowed, his breath catching as he took in the strange geometry of the arch. The edges weren't clean. Each block fit together in ways that defied logic, their seams barely visible except where they twisted unnaturally.

  The runes carved into the surface didn't simply glow. They moved. Their faint green light shifted like currents beneath the stone, trickling along the carvings in almost deliberate patterns. Auron stared, half-expecting them to stop when he did, but the flow continued as if tracing a rhythm only they understood.

  At the top of the arch, a keystone bore the carving of an ornate eye. Its lines converged with unnerving precision, the iris carved deep into the stone. From within, green light spilled outward, cutting sharp and angular into the surrounding darkness. Auron had the unsettling impression that it wasn't just watching but searching.

  The void within the arch warbled. Smoke-like tendrils coiled within, drifting toward the edges before curling back into themselves. The longer Auron stared, the more they seemed to form jagged, angular figures that melted away before he could grasp them. The void didn't ripple or shimmer; it churned, each movement deliberate and restless, as if waiting.

  Auron stepped closer, and the weight of the portal pressed harder against his senses. The air was silent, but not like the uneasy quiet he'd felt before. This was something sharper, something aware. His fingers twitched as he extended a hand toward the surface. It felt almost impossible to resist the portal's pull.

  Then it hit him.

  A sudden, creeping sensation crawled up his spine, settling like ice at the base of his neck. It wasn't fear—not yet. It was the weight of knowing something was wrong, of feeling the world shift just slightly out of place. Auron froze, his hand trembling near the edge of the arch. The air here felt like the moment before falling into a nightmare, where the shadows grow too long, and the quiet becomes unbearable.

  And it wasn't just the portal. Something else was wrong, too.