CHAPTER 1438: STORY 1438: THE THING THAT CLIMBS

Elena didn’t wait for Mira’s legs to obey.

She grabbed her by the collar and hauled her toward the shrinking circle of light above. The spiral floor heaved beneath their feet, warm and pliant like living flesh.

Mira’s breaths came ragged. “It’s in me,” she hissed. “It’s—”

“Save it for later,” Elena snapped.

The corridor behind them pulsed as if it were inhaling. Then, from that black curve, the first jointless limb reached into view—only this one wasn’t the size of a man’s arm. It was thick as a tree trunk, slick with a sheen that reflected the faint red glow.

Something massive was forcing itself upward, the spiral’s living walls stretching to accommodate its bulk.

The blooming-headed figure that had stood in their path turned, not toward the women, but toward the thing below. Its petals flared open in a silent scream, the grinding teeth inside rattling furiously. In the dim red light, its shadow stretched impossibly tall—until the limb from below swept over it, crushing it flat into the wall like wet paper.

Elena cursed. “Move!”

They reached the spot directly beneath the shrinking iris of the courtyard. It was smaller now—barely wide enough for one person at a time. The edges around it weren’t stone anymore, but pale, ridged material like the inside of a shell.

Mira’s ankle locked again. Smoke coiled from the seam of her boot, forming spirals in the air. The voice came—not from the walls this time, but from the enormous shape climbing toward them.

Hinge. Key. Gate.

The iris above shuddered as though resisting an unseen pressure.

“Elena,” Mira whispered, her voice trembling, “if it gets through—”

“That’s why we’re leaving,” Elena cut in, shoving her upward. She braced her shoulder under Mira’s boot and boosted her toward the light. Mira gripped the shell-like rim and hauled herself up, her fingers leaving smudges of ash.

But as she pulled her torso through, her ankle was seized—icy cold flooding up her leg. She glanced down and saw it: a single massive hand, jointless and pale, emerging from the darkness. No claws. No nails. Just fingers long enough to wrap twice around her calf.

“Let go!” Elena shouted, slashing at the arm. The blade bit deep, releasing a hiss like steam. The grip loosened, and Mira scrambled fully into the courtyard, rolling onto cracked stone.

She reached back for Elena.

Elena jumped—too late.

The hand closed around her midsection, yanking her back down into the spiral. Her knife clattered against the fountain’s rim and skidded across the courtyard.

“Elena!” Mira screamed, leaning over the opening. The iris was closing faster now, curling shut like a predator’s mouth.

Below, in the dwindling view, she saw Elena thrashing against the pale grip, her face turned upward.

“Mira—don’t follow. Burn it. Burn—”

The shell snapped shut.

The courtyard was silent again, except for Mira’s heaving breaths—and the faint, rhythmic pounding now coming from beneath the fountain.