CHAPTER 1447: STORY 1447: THE NURSERY’S BREATH

Mira yanked on Elena’s wrist, but it was like trying to pull a statue from sinking mud. Her friend’s pupils shimmered faintly, reflecting the glow of the worms. She took a half-step toward the crowned figure, her movements slow, reverent.

“Elena—look at me.” Mira’s voice cracked, but it was swallowed by the whispers, now curling through the air like smoke.

The crowned figure extended a hand. It wasn’t flesh—it was a lattice of thin bone, glistening with threads of translucent slime. From its fingertips dangled more worms, their bodies twined into delicate chains.

“No more fear. No more cold. Just warmth.”

The words were not spoken aloud. They bloomed directly in Mira’s skull, sweet and heavy, like a lullaby sung from inside her bones.

Mira’s knees bent before she realized it. Her eyelids drooped. Somewhere far off, the Smiling Drowned were entering the throat behind them, their humming blending seamlessly with the whispers. It felt right. It felt like... home.

Then something sharp grazed her palm.

She looked down.

Her nails had cut into her skin again—an old trick, a reminder of pain. A bead of blood rolled down her wrist. When it hit the slick floor, the crowned figure flinched. Only for a moment, but Mira saw it—the recoil, the tightening of those smiling faces.

“Elena!” She drove her shoulder into her friend’s side, knocking them both to the floor. The pull of the throat’s muscles intensified, trying to drag them toward the center.

The crowned figure tilted its many heads in unison.

From the sacs lining the walls, the shapes within began to stir—not peacefully this time, but thrashing. Their faces pressed against the translucent film, mouths opening in silent screams. The sacs split like overripe fruit, spilling their contents onto the floor.

What emerged was wrong.

A deer with a human mouth stitched into its chest.

A man whose arms were boneless, dangling like wet rope.

A child with no eyes, only smooth skin where sockets should be.

They began to crawl toward Mira and Elena.

The worms’ light dimmed, flickering in uneven bursts. Mira realized they weren’t just lanterns—they were conductors. They were syncing every creature in the room to the crowned figure’s will.

She ripped one from the air. It writhed violently in her grasp, its segmented body glowing brighter in protest. Without thinking, she slammed it against the slick floor. The light burst, splattering luminous fluid across her boots.

The crowned figure staggered.

“Elena—kill the lights!” Mira shouted.

Her friend, still sluggish, managed to grab another worm-lantern and crush it. Then another. The chamber darkened, and the whispers became strained, uneven.

The creatures slowed, their movements faltering.

The crowned figure’s voices merged into a single, enraged howl.

From deep within the throat, a rush of air roared forward—not a breath, but a scream. It struck them like a physical force, flinging Mira and Elena toward the chamber’s far wall.

When Mira’s vision cleared, the crowned figure was gone.

Only the sacs remained... and they were all starting to open.