𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬

13: The Others

Sitting idly in his square prison was never an option. Aziz had already begun his daily training, doing handstand push-ups to the rhythm of Mal's hisses. The snake lay coiled nearby, its gaze fixed on the wall where it had detected a change in their surroundings. Something was different, but there was no point in worrying about things outside his control. Better to focus on what he could change—himself.

Earlier, Aziz and Mal had ventured into the temple once more, fishing for their daily meals. He had a nagging feeling that something big was about to happen, and he didn't want to be caught unprepared. Aziz had already filled a few pouches with snake meat as emergency rations. Using one of the strings, he hooked the manual to the back of his trousers, hidden beneath the curtain of his hair, just as Mal took shelter there. The words of Shadow Scales Zhang, Serpent Fang Xian, and the notorious Crimson Viper Bao had become his guiding lights in the darkness. They were his masters, and he felt a deep, unspoken connection to them.

Finishing his final rep, Aziz sat cross-legged, closing his eyes to meditate on what he had learned. Mal slithered up and hid in his hair, its obsidian scales blending into the dark strands. Aziz furrowed his brows, trying to focus. He had a strong grasp on the teachings of Master Zhang—techniques that relied on agility, stealth, and precision. But Master Bao's teachings were a different story. Bao's techniques were brutal and required a physical strength that Aziz wasn't yet capable of. The internal energy he had cultivated, drawn from the dark pool within him, didn't mesh well with Bao's methods. It was a frustrating roadblock in his mastery of the Lowly Serpent's Breath.

Opening his eyes, Aziz sighed in disappointment. Surely this wasn't all he was capable of? A quiet frustration gnawed at him, but his thoughts were cut short by a tremor that shook the walls of the pit. Aziz immediately dropped to one knee, stabilizing himself as he scanned his surroundings. It was night-time; the howls of wolves echoed faintly from above, but the disturbance seemed to originate from beneath the earth. Before long, the hollow wall that Mal had detected earlier began to shift, revealing a hidden door that creaked open on ancient hinges. Then, silence. The rumbling stopped as suddenly as it had started.

Aziz's instincts flared. Something had changed deep within the earth, as if a long-dormant mechanism had been activated. Cautiously, he approached the newly revealed doorway, peering into the darkness beyond. A stairway descended into the earth, leading to who-knows-where.

"Mal," Aziz whispered softly.

The snake peeked its head out from his hair, its tongue flickering out to taste the air before retreating. Feeling a reassuring squeeze at his back, Aziz stepped forward through the doorway. Mal hadn't detected any immediate danger, but that didn't mean there wasn't danger lying in wait. Aziz knew better than to let his guard down.

Descending the steps, Aziz's mind raced with questions. What was the Order up to now? The stairway seemed endless, plunging deeper into the earth with each step. But Aziz wasn't an ordinary human; his dull purple eyes scanned the darkness ahead, his steps sure and silent. What would have been a harrowing journey for others was merely a matter of minutes for him.

At the bottom, he found himself in a long hallway that stretched out in two directions, left and right. The walls were solid, crafted from earth but hardened by an ancient martial art. Only one family was known for such a technique—the Dong-Rock family. Their involvement with the Order confirmed suspicions Aziz had been harbouring. But why would a prestigious family like theirs align with mercenaries? The pieces didn't quite fit.

As he wandered the tunnel, Aziz ordered Mal to search for any other children. Time after time, Mal returned empty-handed—or rather, empty-tailed. There were no others. Aziz was alone in this vein of the earth. At least, that's what he initially believed.

Hiss.

Aziz's blood ran cold at the familiar sound. The hiss echoed through the tunnel, reverberating off the walls and pounding toward him from behind. But this time, it was different—deeper, more resonant. It sent tremors through the very ground beneath his feet. This was no ordinary black-death. Slowly, as if compelled by some unseen force, Aziz turned, unable to run.

Hiss.

His eyes strained to penetrate the thick darkness of the tunnel. He took a cautious step forward. He had to see it—the creature capable of making such a sound. Then, in the far reaches of the tunnel, two enormous purple orbs blinked into existence. At first, Aziz thought they were moons, impossible as that seemed. But as the orbs grew larger, reality set in. They weren't moons. They were eyes. The eyes of something ancient, something beyond anything Aziz had encountered.

Hiss.

The creature emerged from the shadows, its massive form filling the tunnel. Aziz's breath caught in his throat. This wasn't a mere monster; it was something divine, a relic of a time long forgotten. Mal slithered down from Aziz's shoulder to the floor, lowering its head in what appeared to be a gesture of reverence. The snake's body stretched endlessly into the depths of the tunnel, its head alone occupying the entire space. It halted several meters from Aziz, studying him with a gaze that seemed to pierce through his very soul.

Aziz couldn't move. The blood in his veins seemed to obey the creature's will. Did all black-deaths grow this large? He knew they didn't. This one was different. A tongue, larger than Aziz himself, flickered out slowly, tasting the air. Time seemed to slow as the creature's presence filled the tunnel, hanging in a delicate balance. Then, just as silently as it had appeared, the beast vanished, the purple orbs blinking out of existence.

Something told Aziz that if he followed, he would be killed. This time, he had been granted mercy. This was its domain, and the divine snake had allowed him to live. Without fully understanding why, Aziz gave a small bow to the departing creature. He turned quickly and walked away, his heart pounding in his chest. Best not to test its generosity.

There's always something bigger than you.

☨

Continuing down the tunnel, Aziz soon came upon a door—large and ornate, with the symbol of the Order embedded in its frame. A subtle outline of a short dagger pointed skyward. He hadn't noticed it before, but now he recalled seeing the symbol as a shoulder patch on Deca's and Prime's uniforms. Placing his palm against the heavy wooden gates, Aziz felt a surge of anticipation. Mal tightened around his neck, sensing life beyond the doors.

Interesting, thought Aziz. If they were enemies, they would be good practice. He was itching to try out everything he had learned. With a strength that belied his age, Aziz pushed open the heavy doors—a task that would have required three grown men. As the doors scraped open, Aziz had to shield his sensitive eyes from the sudden burst of light from multiple torches.

"You! Who are you?!" a girlish, commanding voice rang out, filled with authority and confidence.

In quick succession, other voices joined in, announcing the arrival of a stranger. It took a few blinks before Aziz could make out the figures before him. A group of five children stood in the hallway, all in tattered clothes, much like his own. They were around his age—some perhaps fourteen, others closer to sixteen. But it was the girl at the centre who caught his attention. Her fiery green eyes blazed with determination as she held a torch out toward him, as if warding off a demon. She demanded an answer, her gaze offering no room for evasion.

For a moment, the room fell into silence. Aziz stood there blinking, realizing how surreal the situation was. The girl gave him a confused look, unsure what to make of his expression. It dawned on Aziz that he hadn't spoken to another human in over a year. In all that time, he had only spoken to himself or Mal. And Mal never talked back. Not once.

"I am... Aziz," he replied, surprised by the cold, deadpan tone of his voice. Had he always sounded like that?