The crypt spirit turns toward the altar and presses its dust-formed hand against the stone. A low cadence rises beneath the chamber, pacing around the buried seal.
The black outline binding Dante’s casting hand tightens whenever the sound pauses. Each tightening draws a thin line of darkness toward the altar’s sealed seam.
The Crypt Spirit
It circles beneath us. It has no feet, no breath, and yet the seal measures every turn.
Dust trickles from the ceiling in time with the cadence. Beneath the altar, the stone flexes once, as though something below has leaned against it.
The Crypt Spirit
Your companions remain beyond this fold, sheltered by music and distance. They cannot hear what has begun here.
The cadence stops. Dante’s bound hand jerks toward the altar without moving his arm, and a second outline appears beside his first, shaped like a narrow open door.
The Crypt Spirit
When it pauses, the seal listens. Decide nothing yet, hunter. Even silence may be an invitation.