Stark Caverns Reviews Novels & Stories

The fighters of the group were on guard as some of the younger men and women were looking for herbs in the meadow at the edge of the lake. “This is beautiful,” Carter says to me still on the horse. I smile back at him still guiding the horse towards the caravan. I admire the cavern around us. ‘I can’t believe it has been so long since we last came Vea,’ I think to myself looking around. The ceiling was covered in glowing stones that looked like stars, lighting the cavern enough to not use torches. There were cracks and missing pieces in the ceiling spilling in the moonlight. The lake was clear even from this distance and had fish swimming in between the glowing plant life in the water. The m

The stalker needed no go-ahead command, he placed the active chain saw on the edge of the man’s right arm, screams filled the alleyway, accompanied by the sounds of flesh tearing and bones breaking, tears rolled down my checks and my heart was beating, I had no idea why I was crying, he deserved it but the pain… The chainsaw was cutting through his bone and flesh 𝒔𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒍𝒚, his right arm dropped on the ground, blood splattered everywhere, the stalker's face didn’t look like his anger was reducing if anything, it increased, badly.

The air in the cavern was no longer thick with the scent of pine; it was choked with the acrid stench of ozone, burnt magnesium, and the cold, metallic breath of the "Slipstream" engines. The ceiling of the Hollow, once a dark cathedral of stone, was now a jagged landscape of blinding blue spotlights and the silhouettes of descending "New Geneva" strike teams.

Steam curled from the water in lazy, twisting ribbons. A waterfall spilled from a jagged opening halfway up the far wall—not just water, but glowing, shimmering liquid, threaded with faint sparks. Heated brimstone mist—hot, but not caustic—cascaded down, meant to cleanse rather than burn. It crashed into a central basin, sounding like distant rain on metal. The roar wasn’t loud, just constant—a living backdrop wrapping the cavern in steady hush.

And all this while, the whispers increased, more persistent, until they were a stunning thunder in his intellect. At long last, they come to an expansive cavern, its dividers lined with unusual, crystalline arrangements that gleamed with a faint blue light. The cavern was tremendous, the ceiling misplaced in obscurity, and the ground underneath their feet was uneven and tricky. But more unsettling was the presence of figures within the shadows, unclear, spooky shapes that appeared to dance in and out of sight, observing them with empty eyes.

it spoke. The old woman looked down with her sagging eyes and gave out a wicked smile that made the air around them seem colder than it was before. She held her crooked fingers and laid them on the glowing crystal as her eyeballs start to judder and turn to black, like swirling voids of darkness nestling in her face. A scene was shown before her and only she was able to see it. It was so fascinating for her that it made her smile grew wider, filled with malice. "I see we have another magician in the Pavilion, Olivia."

--- The cavern is a cathedral of ruin. Iron columns spike down from the ceiling, hammered into bedrock. They are not decoration. They are links, each wider than a wolf’s back, each carved with the runes of gods afraid of their own shadows. They thread my limbs, my ribs, my throat. They drink my marrow and spit it back into the stone. And yet… They creak. Rust worms through them. Blood seeps from me where links bite deepest, sizzling black when it touches the stone. The smell is iron, scorched and old.

Derek Stygian’s stripper's club was bathed in a deep red light. The kind that makes everything look darker than it really was. Shadows moved along the walls as slow music played through hidden speakers, the bass low and steady like a heartbeat. The air felt hot with sin, heavy with smokes of their cigarettes, filled with sweat of the male strippers and the tables were filled with expensive alcohol. Not everyone in the city was allowed into Stygian's secret cult. Only those who are ready to sell their soul for discretion are allowed in.

The darkness seemed to press in tighter, threatening to consume them whole. The tremors continued intermittently, growing in intensity with each new rumble. The sound of rushing water filled the air, growing louder with every passing second. They rounded a bend and stumbled upon a vast cavern, its vaulted ceiling disappearing into the inky darkness above. A single shaft of light, piercing down from somewhere far above, illuminated a churning pool of water at the cavern's center.The stench of damp earth and a metallic tang filled the air. But it was the monstrous stone pillars rising from the pool's depths that truly stole Maya's breath. Carved with grotesque figures – half-man, half-beast –

I hurriedly inquire. “Skyler’s Scent is within my grasp, but the Cavern seems to be shielding her from anyone who tries to approach,” Alaric marvels. “No way!” I exclaimed, my voice filled with disbelief. “Those caverns haven't been active for centuries.” The words escaped my lips before I could even process the astonishing sight before me. Just then, as if to prove me wrong, he projected vivid images directly into my mind. I could see it clearly now — a radiant dome, shimmering with an otherworldly glow, encasing the ancient Cavern.