Page 47 of The Hyena’s Guardian

Matt kept pace beside Theron while sweeping the flashlight ahead through the darkness.

After several seconds of silence, he sighed. “I talk more when nobody explains the ancient underground apocalypse.”

Theron considered that for a moment. “Fair.”

Another tremor rolled through the tunnel. Theron slowed this time instead of pushing forward.

The hesitation caught Matt’s attention almost at once.

“You know where we’re going, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“That is both reassuring and deeply suspicious.”

Theron ignored the comment and motioned toward a narrow opening farther ahead where the corridor curved sharply downward through fractured stone. Unlike the larger tunnels above, this passage looked older and far less traveled. Thick mineral deposits covered portions of the walls while faded carvings spiraled across the stone in patterns Matt no longer even attempted to understand.

“You asked what happened here,” Theron said as they entered the passage.

Matt blinked once. “That sounds dangerously close to actual information.”

Theron’s breathing roughened before he continued. “The monastery was never meant to keep people out.”

Matt looked toward him. “It was meant to keep something in.”

Theron nodded once. “The monastery wasn’t the prison,” he said. “It was built to preserve it.”

The realization settled heavily between them.

“The hungry ones?” Matt asked.

“No.” Theron’s voice dropped lower. “Something older.”

The tunnel opened abruptly into a narrow chamber carved directly into the mountain. Ancient pillars lined the walls in uneven rows while a shallow underground stream cut through the center of the room, black water disappearing beneath the stone floor farther ahead.

Theron stopped beside the water’s edge.

Matt noticed the change in him. The constant tension riding beneath Theron’s movements had sharpened again, though this time it did not feel directed outward toward danger. It felt internal.

“You knew this place before the monastery existed,” Matt said inquisitively.

Theron stayed silent long enough that Matt already knew the answer before he finally spoke. “Yes.”

Matt stared at him. For the first time since meeting Theron, the scale of what stood beside him began settling into something real. Not just dangerous. Ancient.

“How old are you?”

Theron’s pale eyes shifted toward the black water moving through the chamber. “I stopped counting after the first century.”

Matt nearly dropped the flashlight. “You are aggressively casual about information that should probably cause psychological damage.”

A rough sound escaped Theron that almost resembled tired amusement before fading again. Then he crouched beside the underground stream and dipped one clawed hand into the water. “This mountain was a kingdom once,” he said. “Long before Rome. Before church. Before wolves came north.”

Matt moved closer carefully while listening. “There were shifters here?” he asked.

Theron nodded. “Many kinds. Packs. Clans. Things human histories forgot.”

The low rumble from deeper underground echoed faintly again. Theron’s expression darkened. “The prison beneath the mountain was built to hold the First King, but over time the corruption twisted many of those meant to guard it into something else entirely.”