Chapter 12: The Voice
Darkness.
That was all Danny could see.
He couldn’t breathe.
His body was being crushed from every direction, squeezed by muscles bigger than a house. Something thick and slimy and rotten covered his face, his nose, his mouth. It poured into his ears.
He tried to move.
Nothing happened.
His arms, still chained, barely responded. The rope was still around his chest, tangled. His legs kicked uselessly against soft, wet walls that just absorbed the kicks.
His lungs burned.
I’m going to die.
The thought came without fear. Almost calmly.
Perhaps because Danny had already seen death too many times. His village burning. His mother’s hand letting go. The little boy in the cage. The prisoners running in the snow and screaming.
And now him.
His body felt strangely warm.
But everything around him was cold, cold slime.
He could hear something.
A heartbeat.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Slow. Heavy. Like a war drum made of meat.
It wasn’t his.
It was the heartbeat of the creature that had swallowed him. The Ice Worm. He was in its throat. In its stomach. He was being digested.
Danny opened his mouth to scream. No air entered. Only acid that burned his throat and made his vision white.
His vision began fading. Black spots. The cold was winning.
Then —
A voice spoke.
Not from outside. From inside his own head. Clear, like someone whispering right next to his ear inside the worm.
[I am waiting for you]
Danny’s eyes suddenly snapped open.
In the total blackness of the belly, his eyes were wide.
He didn’t know where the voice had come from. It wasn’t loud. It was almost a whisper, but he heard it clearly over the thumping heart.
[I am waiting for you]
Danny’s fingers twitched.
For a second he thought it was a hallucination from no air. But his arms — his body — were suddenly warm. No, hot.
The slime around his arms where the marks touched started to smoke slightly. Sizzle.
The worm felt it. Outside, its body convulsed.
Danny grabbed the flesh surrounding him. It was soft. Wet. Disgusting. But it was real.
He pulled.
His chained hands slipped.
He gritted his teeth, chains rattling. He tried again.
Still nothing. The flesh was too thick.
His chest tightened. He needed air NOW.
He punched the flesh wall in front of him.
THUD!
Pain shot through his hand. The flesh barely moved. But where his knuckles — where the marks glowed faintly red now in the dark — hit, the worm’s flesh hissed and left a small burn mark.
Danny saw it. A tiny red glow in the darkness.
He punched again.
THUD!
Again.
THUD!
"Ah..."
His voice was barely audible, choked by slime.
But he continued. Punch after punch, not like a fighter, like a trapped animal. His knuckles became bloody, but the glow from his marks was getting brighter with each hit, each pulse of his heart.
"I am waiting for you."
The voice returned. Same words. Same calm. Not kind, not cruel. Just waiting.
"Who...?" Danny choked inside his mind.
No answer.
He didn’t have time to think.
He pulled his chained fists back one last time, all his fear, all his anger at the thin prisoner who pushed him, at the mercenaries, at everything — and slammed both fists forward.
Then something happened.
The flesh tore.
Not much. A tiny opening, no bigger than a finger. But cold air — real, freezing, beautiful winter air — touched his face.
Danny’s eyes widened. Air!
He immediately grabbed the opening with both hands, fingers digging into the burning, torn meat, ignoring the slime, and pulled.
The flesh tore further, smoking where his glowing marks touched it. He screamed, no sound, and ripped.
Danny crawled through.
He fell onto the snow.
THUD!
He lay there gasping, coughing violently, black blood and disgusting clear fluids of the worm pouring out of his mouth and nose. He was covered in it, steaming in the cold air. But he was alive. He was breathing cold air that stabbed his lungs.
He was alive.
Danny slowly raised his head. His marks were already fading, back from dark red to black, but still warm, still smoking slightly.
The forest was still covered in snow. Everything was white and silent.
The giant worm was several feet away, thrashing weakly. Its huge body had a smoking hole in its side — where Danny had come out. Black blood poured from it onto the snow.
In front of it stood the Awakened man.
His right arm was covered in that dark grey mist, his Echo. It was flickering, unstable. He was breathing hard. He had been fighting this thing for ten minutes and barely hurt it.
Now the worm was dying. Not because of him. Because of something inside it.
The Awakened man raised his hand toward the wounded worm. His Echo gathered.
"Echo... Grave Press."
The air shook.
BOOOOM!
A massive burst of invisible force struck the already-wounded worm’s head. The creature’s enormous body, already dying, was blasted back and crashed into the snow, finally going still. Blood sprayed.
The forest became completely silent. Only wind.
Danny stared, on his knees in the snow, shaking.
The worm was dead.
The Awakened man slowly lowered his arm, the mist fading. He was exhausted. Then he noticed something in the corner of his eye.
A small figure kneeling behind him, covered in monster blood.
His eyes moved toward Danny.
For a moment, the two stared at each other.
The Awakened man’s expression, which had been blank the whole time, finally changed. His eyes went wide. He looked at Danny, at the hole in the worm, at Danny’s arms where faint red lines were still fading.
He didn’t ask how Danny survived. He didn’t need to.
He could feel it. The Echo around his own arm had vanished completely when he got close to Danny, like a candle blown out by wind.
He simply looked at him, with shock and something else — recognition? Fear?
Then, without a word, he turned away, walking back toward the grey-haired man.
Danny stood there, confused, his legs almost collapsing again.
He looked down at his shaking, chained hands.
He was alive.
Somehow...
He was alive.
But the voice remained inside his head, clearer now than before, echoing after the fight.
"I am waiting for you."
Danny looked toward the dead worm, toward the dark forest beyond.
For the first time since his village burned, he wondered — Who was waiting for him?