I scrambled away from that spot in an instant, collapsing onto the ground and bursting into tears with a wail.

That face was utterly terrifying—skin as stark white as freshly painted plaster, unnaturally pale. Two hollow sockets where eyes should have been lurked beneath half-covering bandages, sending a chill down my spine.

So close this time, I finally saw it clearly: the area above its mouth was perfectly flat. No nose. Not even a hint of one. The sheer wrongness of its face made my stomach twist. *So it really has no nose…*

Its head slowly leaned in, revealing a gaping maw twisted into a grotesque, toothy grin. Waxy yellow fangs filled its mouth—nearly every single tooth sharp, like some bizarre beast.

If this thing was truly the so-called "goddess," could a sacrificed maiden have possibly had a mouth full of fangs?

Plus, this undead, ghostly state had to be caused by something unnatural. Even after thousands of years, it hadn’t rotted.

Suddenly, I remembered the monsters I’d encountered after falling into the trap. Unclothed, yet their aura eerily mirrored this Whispering Maiden—human-like, yet not human; ghost-like, yet not a ghost.

If they’d truly survived here for millennia, some extraordinary cause must have triggered this absurd mutation.

A strange thought struck me: *Could this be what humanity evolves into next?*

...

*Slap!*

My mom’s palm cracked hard across my cheek.

“Snap out of it!”

Rubbing my stinging face, I blinked at her in shock, finally jolting back to reality. I wiped my nose and scrambled to my feet.

She stood, stepped back, and tossed the flashlight to me—it smacked my knuckles dead on. I gritted my teeth, but there was no time to complain.

The Whispering Maiden moved agonizingly slow; crawling fully through the stone opening would take time. Yet somehow, she pinpointed my direction with eerie precision.

I kept the beam locked on her. In my periphery, Mom was already stripping off her wetsuit. Before I could ask why, she hurled hers at me, snatched the flashlight, and whispered:

“Hurry. Take it off.”

She’d already unzipped my collar. No time to hesitate—I peeled off my foul-smelling wetsuit, down to my black sports bra. A flush of embarrassment burned my skin.

She took my suit, glanced me up and down, and gave a mysterious smile.

“What are you smiling at?!” I hissed, face hot.

“You’ve grown up…”

As she pulled on my wetsuit, understanding dawned. Earlier, alone after the trap, I’d smeared monster blood on my clothes—thinking it’d make them see me as kin. But Mom had warned: that blood reeked, drawing others.

*No wonder the Whispering Maiden crawled in silently…*

I smacked my forehead. Instead of camouflage, I’d become bait. Outsmarted by my own *Walking Dead* fantasy. My naivety hadn’t just doomed me—it dragged Mom into danger too.

Then—darkness.

The flashlight died. Total black.

I fumbled into my waterproof pouch. Only two cold flares left. A faint rustling echoed—the Whispering Maiden inching closer.

But we’d swapped suits. For now, she’d hunt Mom, not me.

Still, dread coiled tight in my chest. *Mom…*

...

...

Piecing it together: the reliefs said after the first black dragon—the Pulao my dad mentioned—fell, the Dragon Tamer Clan went mad from eating its flesh. A new Pulao hatched, but madness had already consumed the palace. Only two threats remained: Pulao and the mad clansmen.

So those human-like monsters… this Whispering Maiden… all were Dragon Tamer Clan members driven mad by Pulao’s flesh.

As the truth clicked, I realized—Mom was gone.

Pitch black. The Whispering Maiden’s pale, hollow face flashed in my mind. Panic clawed at my throat.

Desperate, I grabbed the second-to-last cold flare. My trembling hands felt like that moment after holding it forever, finally reaching the toilet.

I felt like the Little Match Girl, clinging to the fragile hope: *Mom is nearby.*

Just then—a warm hand pressed gently over mine. A soft whisper brushed my ear:

“Don’t.”

The voice was melodic, feminine… but not Mom’s.

I flinched. *Has the Whispering Maiden gained sentience?*

But her hand was warm. Smooth. A Whispering Maiden couldn’t feel like this.

“Follow me…”

She tugged my arm, pulling me firmly forward, voice strained to a whisper.

Normally, I’d wrench free. No stranger leads me by the nose down here.

But my mind was frayed. After everything—ancient moving horrors, not just corpses—I was numb with fear.

Yet as she guided me through utter darkness, step by hurried step…

Strangely, I felt no fear at all.