Chapter 38: Trap on the Chasm Platform!

Every person’s breath caught in unison.

"What?" Vera whispered.

Emon’s voice came from deep within the passage, strained yet striving to stay steady. "Beyond the exit is open air — a gap, roughly two palms wide. One misstep and you’ll fall. Wind is blowing up from below; it’s a deep drop."

He paused for several seconds.

"I’ll go across first."

He kept inching forward. The final few steps produced louder sounds. After the rustle of fabric scraping stone came the clatter of boots hitting a different surface — hollow, echoing footsteps.

Then Emon’s voice rang out from the far end of the passage, much clearer now. "I’m across. Solid ground, a platform. More space here. One at a time, everyone. Watch your last step — miss it, and you’re gone."

A collective sigh of relief washed over those waiting outside. Vera glanced around at the group. "One by one. I go first, Lena right behind me. Martha third. Cecil, you three bring up the rear."

The seven began squeezing sideways through the narrow crevice. Cecil was last, with Freddy ahead of him and Lydia before Freddy. Gwendolyn jumped down from Cecil’s shoulder to crouch at his feet. Her small size made the tight passage far easier for her; she scampered on all fours across the stone far faster than Cecil could shuffle sideways.

When it was Cecil’s turn, he squeezed into the gap between the walls. His shoulder pressed against the cold left stone, his back scraping the uneven right rock. He planted each foot carefully before shifting forward. The airflow grew stronger, blowing in from the passage’s end, carrying a dry, hollow scent completely unlike the air inside the chamber.

The final step. His boot toe met empty space. He shifted his weight, slid his foot half‑an‑inch left, planted it firmly on the ledge, and stepped across.

He landed on a stone platform roughly five paces wide. The edge dropped away into pitch‑black depths far below. The opposite wall stood a dozen paces away, connected only by a narrow stone beam — half‑a‑foot wide, rough‑hewn, seemingly natural, with nothing on either side.

The seven crowded onto the platform, catching their breath. Emon stood at the front edge, one hand braced against the wall, pointing toward the stone beam.

"There is a door on that far wall. But to reach it, we have to cross that beam."

Vera was about to step onto the beam for a test when a soft, fluttering sound cut through the air. It was like countless tiny drumheads being struck all at once, growing faster and louder, drawing nearer — a cloud of sand whipped by wind closing in on the platform.

"—Above us!" Martha snapped her head upward.

From the shadows of the vaulted ceiling, a swarm of black shapes dove down. Each was larger than an ordinary bat, their wing membranes streaked with dark red veins, their eyes tawny‑brown, glowing like dozens of smoldering embers in the gloom. The rush of their wings sent everyone’s clothes and hair fluttering backward.

Lena let out a short gasp. Her colourful butterfly burst from her braid and darted in front of her, its wings flaring brighter. Silver‑Eye launched from Emon’s shoulder and let out a sharp warning cry, yet there were far too many bats — well over thirty, circling above and around the stone beam like a tightening black vortex.

Freddy stepped back half‑a‑pace, his back hitting the stone wall. His face paled in the dim light.

"...They’re settling on the beam." He stared at the narrow rock surface. A dozen bats had folded their wings and perched upon it, their tawny‑brown eyes fixed on the platform, as if laying claim to the path. His voice was tight. Cecil noticed — Freddy’s posture had changed. His shoulders hunched inward, toes turned out, centre of gravity lowered half‑an‑inch. It was his nervous tell, one Cecil had seen several times inside the portal. But this time there was something extra. As Freddy stared at the beam, his throat bobbed, as if words were stuck inside him.

"I’ll go," Freddy said suddenly, voice quiet but firmer than before. "I know what you’re thinking — I’m the biggest, slowest of us. But if I don’t go first, you’ll have no way to cross behind me."

With that, he took a step toward the beam’s edge.

One bat launched itself from the beam and lunged straight at him. Freddy threw his arm up to shield his face. Turner darted from his shoulder and slammed into the bat’s belly. The two small shapes collided and bounced apart. Turner landed back on Freddy’s shoulder, fur puffed up, squeaking. The bat veered off and circled back. A second, then a third bat took flight from the beam.

"—They’ve targeted me." Freddy stepped back, tension rising in his voice.

Just then, a laugh echoed up from somewhere deep beneath the chasm. Not loud, yet it reverberated across the hollow rock walls, like someone shouting from the bottom of a well, their voice bouncing multiple times before reaching the surface.

"Hahaha‑!"

Everyone froze. Even the bat swarm halted their assault, hovering mid‑air, wings beating slowly like sentries awaiting orders.

Vera scanned her surroundings quickly. No obvious hiding spots on the platform’s surrounding cliffs, but the darkness below was impenetrable.

"Who’s there?" Her voice was low yet piercing, bouncing off the rock faces before fading away.

The voice drifted upward again, clearer this time, lazy and casual, as if the speaker were lounging in his own backyard. "Why, the Beast‑Tamer, of course. Did you think these little ones obeyed out of kindness?"

The group on the platform exchanged sharp glances. Martha’s hand closed around the hilt of her short axe. Emon called Silver‑Eye back to his shoulder. Lena’s butterfly’s wings shifted to a deep violet‑blue — Cecil recognised the colour shift as a signal for defensive readiness.

Cecil’s right hand gathered a thin layer of frost. Gwendolyn crouched at the platform’s edge beside his feet, blue eyes locked on the darkness below, her tail rising straight.

The voice spoke once more. "Relax. If I meant harm, I would have struck already. I’ve been watching you for a while. Found it rather amusing to see the big fellow trembling."

Freddy’s face flushed red from pale. "...Who are you calling big fellow?"

"You, of course. The heavy‑set one."

Vera signalled for everyone to stay still. She stepped forward toward the platform’s edge, her amber eyes staring down into the thick darkness.

"Come up here and talk," she said. "We can’t see you down there. We can’t negotiate like this."

Silence hung in the abyss for several seconds. Then a shadow rose slowly from the blackness — not floating, but climbing up the cliff face. A lean figure wrapped in a deep‑grey cloak, hood pulled low to hide most of his face. He moved smoothly, almost spider‑like across the vertical rock.

He hauled himself onto the platform and dusted off his cloak. Beneath the hood was a young man, around twenty‑odd, with a wide, easy grin and dark‑brown eyes ringed with fine golden flecks. Perched on his shoulder was a dark‑purple bat twice the size of a normal one, its wing edges trimmed with silvery‑white patterns, like a folded velvet shawl.

"Name’s Victor," he introduced himself, with the casual air of someone who knew they would be asked. "I’ve been stuck in this maze for a while too. Though my quarters are a little more interesting than your chamber." He jerked his chin toward the hovering bats above. "I keep plenty of little friends for company."

Vera studied Victor. The rest of the group remained on guard, not relaxing their postures.

Victor’s grin stayed in place. Light swirled in his dark‑brown eyes, a look far different from his earlier lazy demeanour. He watched the seven tense, wary figures on the platform as if admiring a painting unfolding before him.

Then he blinked.

A soft blink, much like a cat’s final eyelid flicker before deciding whether to pounce. At the exact same moment, the dark‑purple bat on his shoulder let out an extremely high‑frequency, short chirp — barely audible to human ears, yet Cecil felt his eardrums throb, as though someone had clapped hard inside a sealed room.

In the next instant, sonic waves washed over the entire platform.

The thirty‑odd bats above spread their wings. Their tawny‑brown eyes blazed bright crimson. Every bat emitted pulsed sound waves at the exact same frequency. The waves bounced, overlapped and resonated between the platform and the chasm, like dozens of drums struck simultaneously inside a stone box.

Cecil felt his skull vibrate. The sound did not enter through his ears; it travelled through bone — up his leg bones into his hips, along his spine, and into his chest, producing a nauseating resonance. His vision blurred for a split second. The stone platform doubled, as if seen through rippling water.

"—Get down!" Vera’s voice came through shredded by the sound, fragmented and broken.

But it was already too late. Martha dropped to one knee, bracing herself on the stone. Her short axe slipped from her hand and clanged loudly against the platform. Emon slid down the wall to sit, Silver‑Eye flailing wildly above him, crashing into the rock. Lena curled into a ball, clutching her head, her butterfly spinning rapidly around her, its glow flickering under the sonic assault.

Freddy was worst off. He stood near the beam’s entrance, holding Turner tight in his arms when the first wave hit. The sound slammed into his side. He lurched, stumbling two steps — the empty abyss lay directly to his right. Lydia reached for him from the left, yet her hand barely brushed his wrist before the sonic waves robbed her of strength.

Cecil’s vision flickered between blur and clarity. Gwendolyn unleashed a burst of frost at his feet — not aimed at Victor, but at the stone beneath him. The cold froze a thin sheet of ice across the platform, then shattered it. Shards of ice flew outward, creating an irregular reflective surface.

Part of the sonic waves deflected off the broken ice. It was only a faint reduction, yet it was enough for Cecil. The throbbing inside his skull eased. His vision sharpened, and he steadied his footing.

He saw Freddy still tilting toward the right. Turner burst from Freddy’s embrace, fur standing on end. The grey shape wobbled through the sound‑waves and slammed into Freddy’s shoulder. The impact was light, but it pulled Freddy’s weight back just a little.

"—Freddy!" Cecil shouted. His voice was crumpled by the sonic roar. He had no time to form ice projectiles. He sent a spreading cloud of frost toward Freddy’s feet. The cold exploded on the stone, freezing a patch of rough ice. Freddy’s boot caught on the uneven surface, gaining traction. His feet planted firmly. He swayed at the beam’s edge, then steadied.