The stone was silent. The silence was absolute. The absolute was producing a panic in Dexmon's chest that he was converting into action because action was the only alternative to screaming and screaming would help no one.
Dex: Gavriel, status. NOW.
Meanwhile, the tunnel around Gavriel warbled. Shifted. The walls breathed. The ceiling contracted. The geometry of the space was changing around him like the throat of something alive, and the alive was swallowing, and the swallowing was producing a claustrophobia that he was stamping down with both boots because claustrophobia was a luxury he could afford exactly never.
"Serena?" he called, voice sharp, echoing into the dark. "Serena, where are you?"
His eyes strained as they adjusted, hands sweeping over cold stone. Empty. She wasn't there.
No answer. Then he heard her. Soft. Fractured. Terrified.
"Gav…" Her voice trembled. "Gav, please…"
