Page 49 of The Hyena’s Guardian

He should have noticed the face first.

Instead, all Matt could see was the sorrow.

The vision vanished instantly. Matt caught himself hard against one of the stone pillars, breathing unevenly.

Theron crossed the chamber toward him despite the obvious effort it took not to touch him again. “What did you see?”

Matt looked up. “You,” he said.

Genuine alarm crossed Theron’s face.

Chapter 8 - Matt

Theron did not speak again for several seconds after Matt answered.

The underground stream continued flowing through the chamber while distant tremors rolled faintly through the catacombs around them. Somewhere far below, the roar echoed again, muted now by layers of stone but still powerful enough that Matt felt the vibration beneath his boots.

Theron remained perfectly still near the center of the chamber, pale eyes fixed on Matt with an expression that looked dangerously close to unease.

“You saw me,” he said finally.

Matt let out a slow breath. “I’m going to need you to be a little more specific. A lot of impossible things have happened tonight.”

Theron ignored the attempt at humor. “That should not be possible.”

“Well, tonight has included an ancient kingdom turned supernatural prison, flesh-eating cave monsters, and haunted architecture. My standards for possible have adjusted dramatically.”

Theron stared into the tunnel, but not before Matt caught the faint amusement in his eyes.

Then the chamber lurched harder than before.

This one nearly knocked both of them sideways as cracks spread sharply through one of the outer support pillars. Stone broke loose from the ceiling and splashed into the underground stream while the roar beneath the mountain rose again.

Theron turned toward the corridor ahead. “We find your people.”

Matt hesitated. “Assuming they’re still alive.”

Theron didn’t slow. “Until we know otherwise, they are.”

Matt followed without argument this time.

The tunnel beyond the chamber narrowed quickly as it descended deeper beneath the mountain. Ancient carvings covered sections of the walls in overlapping spirals that became harder to distinguish the farther they traveled. Matt had stopped trying to interpret them several corridors ago. Most of the symbols now felt less like language and more like warnings carved by people who had run out of words capable of describing what they feared.

Theron moved ahead of him through the darkness with growing urgency despite his injuries.

Matt noticed the strain returning. His breathing roughened again, and several fresh streaks of blood darkened the stone where his claws occasionally brushed the tunnel walls for balance.

“You are really bad at resting,” Matt muttered.

Theron glanced back briefly. “Rest later.”

“That statement usually ends with people dying.”

“For many people, yes.”

“See, that right there. That is exactly the kind of response that keeps morale low.”

Theron gave him a brief, unreadable look before continuing down the corridor. The warmth it stirred in Matt felt wildly inappropriate.