Chapter 1446: Story 1446: The Throat of Lanterns

The glow wasn’t fire. It was soft, throbbing—like the pulse of a living thing. The tunnel narrowed into a ribbed cylinder, and each rib was studded with oval sacs that shimmered faintly from within.

Mira slowed, the warmth in the air unsettling after the freezing water below. Elena brushed past her, fingers grazing one of the sacs. It quivered at her touch.

“Don’t—” Mira started, but the sac split open with a wet sigh.

Inside was a lantern. Or at least, something pretending to be one—its frame made of delicate cartilage, the light source a knot of glowing worms twisting around each other. The worms writhed in unison as Elena stepped back, their bodies flashing in strange patterns, almost like a language.

The rest of the sacs began to stir. One by one, they peeled open, releasing more of the “lanterns.” The air filled with their faint chemical glow, enough to reveal that the tunnel wasn’t stone at all—it was a throat. The ribs were muscle, flexing subtly with each breath.

“Mira… it’s swallowing.”

The floor tilted slightly under their feet. A slow, steady pull urged them forward, toward the bend where the glow deepened. The lantern-worms floated upward, drifting ahead like a procession.

A low sound came from behind them—a sloshing, wet drag. Mira didn’t have to look to know the Smiling Drowned were following, their humming faint but growing stronger.

“We need to move.”

The throat flexed again, more forcefully this time, and they stumbled forward. The lanterns began to arrange themselves in the air ahead, forming an arch of light that marked the tunnel’s bend. Beyond it, the glow was almost blinding.

They stepped through—and froze.

The chamber was enormous, round, and entirely lined with sacs. Thousands of them, each pulsing softly. In the center stood a figure with its back to them, tall and gaunt, skin pale and stretched tight over bone. The worms from the lanterns swarmed lazily around its head like a crown.

It turned.

Its face was not a face—it was a cluster of those smiling children’s heads, fused together, each mouth whispering in perfect unison.

“They are gone now. We will keep you safe. We will keep you here.”

From the sacs lining the walls, shapes began to emerge—adults, children, animals—each wrapped in a translucent membrane, eyes closed as if dreaming. The sacs pulsed faster, as though aware of fresh prey.

Elena’s breath quickened. “Mira… it’s a nursery.”

The figure stepped forward. The worms writhed faster, their light flashing like a warning—or an invitation.

The throat behind them flexed again. This time it didn’t just urge them forward—it pulled. The chamber’s floor was slick, and Mira’s boots began to slide.

The whispering heads all smiled wider.

“Come into the light.”

Mira grabbed Elena’s wrist, but Elena wasn’t resisting anymore.