Small Cuts (Supernatural Dark!fic)

t h i r t y - s i x

"Your head will collapse, and there's nothing in it
And you'll ask yourself
Where is my mind?" 
Where Is My Mind? - Pixies 

The moment they crossed the threshold of the crypt, Amara felt the air change. It was thick and heavy, as if centuries of darkness were pressing down on them. The temperature dropped, a chill settling into her bones as she stepped further inside, her breath coming out in small puffs of mist.

The crypt was larger than she had expected. The stone walls stretched high above them, the ceiling lost in shadow. Flickering torchlight danced along the walls, casting eerie shadows that seemed to move of their own accord.

Dean was the first to speak, his voice low but steady. "Stay close. We don't know what's waiting for us."

Sam nodded, his hand resting on the hilt of his knife as his eyes scanned the room. Castiel stood beside them, his gaze sharp, as though he could sense the danger lingering in the air.

Amara swallowed hard, trying to keep her composure. The oppressive energy inside the crypt was suffocating, and she could feel it clawing at the edges of her mind, like a dark whisper. She knew Paimon was out there, watching, waiting. But right now, the focus was on the Blade. If they could get it, they'd have a weapon powerful enough to weaken Paimon's hold on her.

They moved as a unit through the crypt, the sound of their footsteps echoing against the stone walls. Amara's heart pounded in her chest, her senses on high alert as they made their way deeper into the darkness.

Suddenly, the floor beneath them shifted. There was a sharp grinding sound, followed by a loud click.

"Dean—" Sam began, but before he could finish, the ground beneath them gave way.

Amara gasped as the floor crumbled beneath her feet, sending her tumbling into the darkness. She reached out, her hand grasping at nothing as she fell. Her stomach lurched, and for a brief moment, everything was chaos.

She hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the wind out of her. Dazed and disoriented, she lay there for a moment, trying to catch her breath. The world around her was spinning, her vision blurred from the sudden fall.

"Amara!"

Dean's voice echoed through the darkness, sharp with panic.

"I'm here!" She called back, wincing as she pushed herself up into a sitting position. Her body ached from the fall, but nothing seemed broken.

She looked around, her eyes slowly adjusting to the dim light. She had fallen into a lower chamber of the crypt, separated from the others. The walls here were closer, the air even more suffocating. Amara's heart pounded in her chest as she scrambled to her feet.

Above her, she could hear the distant sounds of Sam and Dean trying to find a way down.

"Hold on, Amara! We're coming!" Sam shouted.

Amara glanced around, her nerves buzzing. She could feel it—something was here, watching her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and her breath came out in shallow gasps.

Then she saw it.

At the far end of the chamber, something shifted in the shadows. A figure, barely visible in the dim light, moved toward her. It was tall, its form twisted and grotesque, its eyes glowing faintly in the darkness.

Amara's heart leapt into her throat as the figure stepped forward, revealing itself fully. It was a guardian of the crypt—an ancient, malevolent spirit, its face twisted into a snarl. The air around it crackled with dark energy, and its eyes locked onto Amara with a hunger that sent a chill down her spine.