The cold, dark waters of the underground lake still clung to my scales, a chilling reminder of our narrow escape from Tsunami. But the fear of discovery was quickly overshadowed by the relentless, escalating pulse of the mountain. The thump-thump was no longer a distant beat; it was a furious, pounding rhythm that vibrated through the very air, a deep, resonant thrum that seemed to shake the stone around us. The whispers, too, had intensified, no longer faint murmurs but a cacophony of desperate, ancient voices that clawed at the edges of my sanity, a chorus of terror and longing that resonated with the deepest, most primal fears buried within my own heart. "This way," I rasped, my voice hoarse from the cold and the sheer effort of pushing through the overwhelming sensations. My talons, still damp from the lake, pressed against the rough, uneven stone of the cavern floor. The vibrations were strongest here, pulling me towards a narrow, almost imperceptible fissure in the rock face, hidden behind a curtain of glistening, moss-covered stalactites. It was a passage that seemed to breathe, exhaling a cold, mineral-rich air that tasted of forgotten ages. Qibli, ever observant, was already there, his keen eyes tracing the faint outline of the opening. "Well, that’s certainly not on any map," he murmured, his voice a low, thoughtful rumble. He ran a talon over the rough stone, then glanced at me. "You’re sure this is it? This feels it’s holding its breath." I squeezed through the narrow opening first, my broad shoulders scraping against the rough stone. The passage beyond was a tight, winding tunnel, barely wide enough for a single dragon. The air was thick, heavy, and utterly devoid of any natural light. Qibli’s small flame, rekindled on his stick, cast a flickering, unreliable glow that only served to deepen the shadows. Every step was a deliberate act of will. The thump-thump was a continuous, agonizing roar now, a physical pressure against my chest that made my lungs ache. The whispers were a deafening chorus, a swirling vortex of ancient voices that seemed to press in on me from all sides, their terror and sorrow a palpable weight. My head throbbed, a dull, insistent ache behind my eyes, and the scar over my left eye burned with an intensity that made me grit my teeth. "It’s dizzying tapestry of ancient SeaWing and NightWing script, intertwined with symbols I didn’t recognize, symbols that seemed to writhe and shift before my eyes, as if they were alive. The thump-thump here was no longer just a vibration; it was a physical force, a rhythmic BOOM-BOOM-BOOM that resonated in my chest, shaking my very bones. The whispers were a deafening roar, a torrent of ancient voices that poured into my mind, overwhelming my senses, threatening to shatter my composure. My head swam, and I staggered, pressing a talon against the cold stone floor to steady myself. "By the moons agonizing shriek, a sound of pure, unadulterated pain that tore through my mind, threatening to rip it apart. I recoiled, my scales burning, my head swimming. The force of it threw me backward, sending me sprawling onto the cold stone floor. My vision swam, filled with dancing blue spots, and my ears rang with the echo of that terrible scream. The scar over my left eye felt like it had been seared anew, a raw, burning line across my face. When my vision cleared, the cavern was still bathed in the eerie blue glow of the runes, but something had changed. The light was no longer soft and ethereal; it was harsh, aggressive, pulsing with an angry, erratic rhythm. The thump-thump was now a violent, unpredictable shudder, and the whispers were a chaotic, maddening cacophony, a thousand voices screaming over each other, their terror amplified a hundredfold. Qibli was on his talons, his flame extinguished, his face pale in the blue light. "Cactus! Are you alright? What happened?" He rushed to my side, helping me up, his talons surprisingly gentle. Moon was huddled against the far wall, her wings wrapped tightly around her, her scales a mottled grey-brown. Her silver teardrop scales were dim, almost extinguished, and she was trembling violently. "It’s her trembling. "Whatever it is, it’s causing all this. The hum. The tremors. The fear. We can’t let it out." But even as she spoke, a new, more ominous sound began to emanate from the wall. A low, grinding groan, like colossal teeth chewing through solid rock. The glowing runes pulsed faster, brighter, and the air filled with the acrid scent of ozone and burning stone. Small cracks, hairline fractures, began to spiderweb across the obsidian surface, radiating outwards from the point where my talon had touched it. "It’s

The Runed Wall