Chapter 274

Olivia

The echoing stillness of the mines wrapped around me like a shroud.

The dim, unsteady light of my flashlight barely pierced the inky blackness, making the pathways and corridors seem to stretch on endlessly. Every turn and crevice I passed held memories of my father’s soot-covered face, and I was constantly haunted by the phantom specter of a past long gone.

“Dad?” I murmured under my breath as I navigated a particularly treacherous bend. My mind wandered back to the stories he had told me when I was little about these mines, the legends and the tales of treasures and horrors that lay beneath the surface.

But those stories had never prepared me for this.

Then, my ears pricked up. There it was again, that faint, ethereal voice, distant yet so familiar.

“Olivia…”

My heart raced. That voice was familiar, too familiar. My dad had been dead for years, but I swore that it sounded just like him. And in this deep, dark space, my mind jumped at the chance to have a friendly voice calling for me.

“Dad? Is that you?” I called out, desperately hoping for a response. The sound of my own voice reverberating off the cold, damp walls did little to ease my growing unease.

The voice called out again, this time sounding as though it was coming from another tunnel. Without a second thought, I began to follow the sound, the flashlight swinging haphazardly in my hand, casting eerie, dancing shadows on the walls.

The pathways seemed to twist and turn with no discernible pattern, and as I tried to retrace the routes I remembered from my dad’s stories, the voice continued to lead me deeper into the labyrinthine abyss.

“Dad! Where are you?” I called out, my voice echoing back at me.

“Olivia!” My father’s voice called back. “Over here!”

I felt my heart leap. Could it be true? My father… was he somehow still alive? All of the pain, all of the torment of his death… Had it somehow all been a facade?

“Dad!” I called out again, picking up my pace. “I’m coming! Stay where you are!”

I followed the sound of his voice, occasionally calling to each other. However, the deeper I went, the harder it became to determine the direction of the voice.

It felt as though the walls themselves were playing tricks on me, distorting and bouncing the sound, turning the voice into a ghostly chorus that taunted me from every direction.

Panic bubbled in my chest, and for a brief moment, I considered turning back. Logic began to kick in, finally: what if I was being led into a trap? What if the voice wasn’t my father’s but something far more sinister?

But the thought of my dad, my poor, sweet dad, possibly in need of my help, drove me on.

The walls began to close in, the pathways becoming narrower, forcing me to drop to my hands and knees. The cold, damp ground seeped through my clothes, making every inch of me shiver with cold and fear. The voice seemed to grow fainter, and I had to squint to see even a few inches ahead of me.

“I can’t do this. I have to go back,” I murmured to myself. But something deep inside me, perhaps that stubborn streak I inherited from my dad, refused to give in. With every breath, I told myself, “Just a little further. Just a bit more.”

Time seemed to lose all meaning as I crawled, each moment stretching into an eternity. The weight of the earth above pressed down on me, and the oppressive darkness seemed almost tangible, as if it were trying to snuff out my lantern and swallow me whole.

Then, just as I felt the first tendrils of true despair wrapping around my heart, the passage began to widen. Relief flooded through me as I stumbled to my feet, the lantern’s light revealing a cavernous room.

I blinked, trying to adjust to the sudden openness.

“Dad?” I called out tentatively, the hope in my voice apparent. The room remained silent, the only sound being the slow drip of water somewhere in the distance.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself. “Dad, where are you?” I shouted, the echo of my voice the only reply.

My heart began to sink, the weight of disappointment crushing me. Had I been chasing a phantom? A figment of my own imagination? Perhaps the stories had finally gotten to me, and I’d let my own fears lead me astray. My father had told me once about gasses that came from the depths, making miners go crazy. Was this one of those instances?

But then, just as I was about to turn back, I heard it. Not the distant, echoing voice I’d been following, but a close, intimate whisper, as if someone was standing right next to me.

“Olivia.”

My entire body went rigid. Every hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and a chill ran down my spine. The voice was unmistakably my father’s, but there was no one there. The room remained empty, the blue light of the flashlight revealing no sign of anyone else.

The weight of the situation crashed down on me. Alone in a cavernous room deep within the mines, with only a disembodied voice for company, I realized just how vulnerable I was.

But I couldn’t give in to fear. Not now. Not when I was so close.

Taking a shaky breath, I whispered back, “Dad, I’m here. Where are you?”

The silence that followed was deafening. I felt myself relax a little, and a wry chuckle escaped my lips.

“Just my imagination,” I murmured, shaking my head. “Snap out of it, Olivia.”

With a sigh, I kept going. I felt a strange sense of completion course through my veins, as though my body knew that I was close to finding the final artifact. With a new sense of courage, I swung my flashlight around at the walls.

My eyes widened when I saw it. I glanced back down at the piece of paper in my hands, then back up. This was it.

The serpent in the wall. This had to be the entrance to the Cavern of Echoes.

With a feeling of relief in my stomach, I ventured forward. Just as Levi described, there was a small opening beneath the symbol. I had to squeeze my way through, but then it opened up into a bigger room.

And up ahead, I could see it. Something glinting in the wall.

A diamond.

“Aha!” I called out, striding toward it.

But something stopped me. Not the voices of my imagination, nor the end of the rope tied around my waist; rather, it was the complete lack of the rope’s weight.

Swallowing, I glanced down, my fingers trailing across where the rope should have been. I was met with a dead end.

The rope had broken.

No… It hadn’t been broken. I realized that as I shined my flashlight on it and took a closer look. It was too even, too perfect.

It had been… cut.

“Hello?” I called out, whirling around. Once again, I was met with silence aside from the rapid pounding of my heart in my ears. “Hello? Is anyone there? Guys, if this is a joke, it’s not funny!”

Nothing. At least, not at first. But then, I heard it. Even closer than before, so close I could feel its breath in my ear.

“Olivia.”