The last echoing scrape of Dane’s helmet against the cave wall told him he had made a terrible mistake before the darkness began to consume not just his light, but his hope as well. His single back-up light flickered pitifully. Monstrous shadows danced along the walls, and seemed to breathe and narrow with each ragged breath he took. The cold limestone pressing in around him like an ancient sarcophagus.

As he continued forward, he clutched the dying light, the weight of it felt like a Rosary in his hands. He tried to breathe, to steady himself and to think.

Early this morning, Dane had gathered his gear, left a note for his roommate, and set off for the mountains. Nestled in the breath-taking ranges of the Northern Cascades, Shadowmist Cavern sat waiting for him. Dane had seen a picture of the welcoming entryway of the system and was immediately mesmerized. It was perfectly placed, settled into the side of one of the numerous stone outcrops pressing into the mountain.

The entryway, fifteen feet wide and at least twelve and a half feet tall, allowed a peek inside. Large spacious walkways could be seen going further in, smooth limestone walls that reflected the light of headlamps. The atmosphere no less inviting than a warm family restaurant. He knew, just from that one image, he had to go. His desire for the cave was so great, he did no further reading, only quickly printing out the directions on how to get there.

It was supposed to be an easy adventure, a day trip, he thought, shaking his head as the memory of the drive flashed before him. The directions had been handwritten, crudely listed in his carefree hand. A list of turns and landmarks that seemed haphazard but charmingly rustic. He recalled the scrawled words—"Follow the stream past the crooked tree"—and how he had laughed at that. Yet each landmark had appeared exactly as described, leading him with an almost magical precision through dense woods and steep ravines.

Finally, the cave entrance emerged like a welcoming friend. Eagerness pulsing in his veins dulled any sense of caution he might've had. He'd donned his gear, looked around at the vast emptiness, and plunged in, barely stopping to check his pack. The first chamber was everything he'd imagined. Wide open and glittering, light bouncing off walls like tiny fireworks. He snapped pictures on his phone, already planning which ones would make the best posts.

Then he had dared to push deeper.

Dane shivered now, recalling the excitement he had felt as he passed through a fissure on the wall, a copper plated plaque bolted next to it.

THE ECHO BRANCHES

The plaque intrigued him. He'd shone his headlamp on it, the letters reflecting back in a dull golden glow. The name seemed to promise something mysterious, something more than just the wide, well-lit passages he'd seen so far. Something exciting. It was a siren's call, and he, a willing sailor.

He remembered squeezing through the fissure, the rock scraping against his backpack. The passage beyond was narrower, the ceiling lower. The air was damper, heavier, and the silence was more profound. His footsteps echoed strangely, seeming to multiply and bounce off the walls in a disorienting cacophony.

The walls, once inviting and beautiful, narrowed more than he thought, the paths twisted and intersected at weird angles. The disoriented sound of distant dripping water only added to the confusion. More than once he had found himself on the verge of vertical shafts that seemed to open up silently in the darkness before him. It had taken him longer than he would ever admit to find the main pathway again. As he ventured farther away from the branching passageways, he breathed a sigh of relief. The pathway ahead was narrower than before but still more than wide enough to accommodate Dane and all his gear. Behind him, more than once, the shattering sound of stalactites falling. For a moment, Dane stood in awe. For centuries they hung undisturbed, until today. Until now. Until him. His gaze cast upward, he saw in the dull glow of his headlamp droplets of water quivering almost rhythmically on the ends of the formations overhead. He tilted his head to listen.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The sound had something odd about it, he felt the subtle hand of unease wrap around the pit of his stomach. He had continued, the narrow pathway ahead only growing tighter. The walls looming in around him, invading him.

A sickening crack ahead of him in the darkness froze him in his spot. His headlamp flickered, buzzed softly, then abruptly cut out. Dane was bathed in utter darkness. He felt the beginnings of panic claw its way up his throat, but he swallowed it down forcefully. It settled atop the dread, bubbling, waiting to return. He tried to keep his breath even as he used his phone for light to replace the battery in his headlamp.

Light rushed back to the passage, cleansing the panic completely. It eased the grip dread had, yet could not rid him of it. Considering he only had one back-up battery, he figured now would be a good time to leave. He tried to take into account the time it would take for him to reverse navigate the Echo Branches.

He had been moving non-stop, the sound of the dripping water mixed with his echoing footsteps. It was unspeakably disorienting. He stopped at an intersection of three branches of the cave and stood directly in front of each opening, trying to remember the tips and tricks he had gathered from his brief introduction to Caving.

The second entryway, nestled unsettlingly close to the first, carried a soft breeze with it. Hope coursed through him, a feeling almost similar to his initial excitement, dulled his senses enough for Dane to be unaware of the slight decline of the passageway. He slowed, a limestone bridge coming into the lights before him. He didn’t remember crossing a bridge on his way down, was he on the right path? His doubt clawed at him, and if upon sensing this, the cool breeze swept through the passageway. Fresh and promising. He stepped tentatively on the bridge, carefully testing the stability. The first step felt solid and sure. He felt a bit more confidence now and stepped forward again. His eyes glanced down, the gaping darkness below greeting him.

“Oh hell.” He whispered, anxious now, like the darkness itself was creeping up to swallow him. He exhaled, and continued across the bridge. He had made it halfway when a gut wrenching crack echoed in the air. He had no time to look down, no time to think, as the bridge gave way beneath him. He tumbled down and down, bashing into jagged rocks, rolling as the shaft took a more angled direction. A mix of burning and dull pain thrashed through him. Rocks had torn into him, the descent knocking the helmet from his head and abruptly casting the area into that sinister darkness.

Dane laid there, unsure whether his eyes were opened or closed. He groaned and forced himself to raise to his hands and knees. The wind was knocked from him and he struggled there in the blackness eternally untouched by the sun to catch a solid breath in his lungs. Limestone dust expelled by the fall found its way into his mouth and down his throat, the taste ancient and stale. He coughed, choking on the dust. He reached blindly around himself, searching for the headlamp. He needed the light, he had no clue where he was.

Dane's fingers finally closed around his backup light. Relief washed over him as he clicked it on, the weak beam cutting through the oppressive darkness. He struggled to his feet, wincing at the sharp pain in his ankle.

"Hello?" The word died in the damp air, swallowed by the endless black surrounding him.

The beam swept across unfamiliar walls slick with moisture, revealing he had tumbled into a vast chamber unlike anything he'd seen above. The ceiling disappeared beyond his light's reach, and bizarre limestone formations jutted at unnatural angles, as if grown under different laws of physics.

His watch, miraculously unbroken, displayed an impossible time: Twenty-seven: Sixty-three.

"That can't be right," he muttered, tapping the screen. The numbers remained unchanged, pulsing faintly in the gloom.

The dripping water that had been his constant companion now sounded wrong – each drop resonating with a peculiar echo that seemed to play in reverse, like a tape rewinding.

Pird. Pird. Pird.

The sound crawled across his flesh, raising goosebumps.

Dane limped forward, following a subtle current of air. It was cool and damp, carrying a faint scent of greenery. Hope sparked in his chest as he remembered that air movement typically meant exits. After navigating a series of tight passages that forced him to remove his pack and push it ahead of him, he emerged into another chamber, this one smaller but somehow more unsettling.

Odd formations hung off the walls and filled the room in strange geometries. Massive and thick stalagmites and stalactites, shimmering softly in his light. He moved through the chamber, trying his best to not touch any of them. It was only when his light caught just the right angle to allow him to see one of the outcrops in detail.

What he had initially mistaken for unusual rock formations suddenly revealed themselves in his fading light. A half-strangled scream caught in his throat.

Human figures encased in calcified shells lined the walls.

Dozens of them – some appearing decades old judging by the antiquated gear, others more horrifyingly recent – all frozen in various poses of terror or desperation. As his light passed over them, Dane could swear their eyes followed him, silently pleading for release.

"Oh God," he whispered, backing away. His elbow knocked against one of the formations, and a fine dust showered down. The cocoon had a hollow sound, confirming his worst fears – someone was entombed inside.

A sharp scraping sound pierced the silence, like nails dragging against stone, so sudden it startled Dane enough to drop his light. It clattered across the stone but mercifully stayed on, casting wild and menacing shadows as it rolled.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" carried in through a passage behind him. The voice was distant but clear, yet desperation to escape clouded his ability to notice the unsettling, calm tone it had.

"Yes! YES! I'm here!" Dane shouted, hope surging through him. "I fell through a bridge! I need help!"

He scrambled toward his light, scooping it up in his trembling hands and shining it down the passage behind him. Footsteps echoed, reverberating in his bones as they moved closer. Multiple sets, he thought, relief washing over him, shrouding the alarm he would’ve felt if he noticed the odd monotony of the echos.

But as the sounds clarified, that alarm rose in him. This felt wrong. The footsteps had an uneven rhythm, too many beats, too many limbs. The voices – what he'd thought were multiple rescuers – melded slowly into one warbled voice mimicking many.

Dane stood frozen, his eyes wide as the fear started setting in.

"Hello?" A single calm voice called out. Too calm. Unnaturally calm.

Ice spread through Dane's veins as he backed away, turning to flee deeper into the cave. His light beam swept across more cocoons, more frozen faces with living eyes that seemed to follow him in silent warning.

He staggered into a massive chamber with bizarre geometry, the walls meeting at impossible angles that hurt his eyes. Here, the horror fully revealed itself.

They had once been human – that much was clear – but were now changed. Their pale, almost translucent skin stretched over distorted frames. Bones that should’ve never grown threatened to burst through papery skin. Where eyes should have been, smooth skin had fused over empty, sunken sockets. Their limbs were elongated, with too many joints, and their fingers ended in serrated black talons.

And behind them, something worse.

The creature moved like fluid shadows, its vaguely human-shaped head tilting with malicious curiosity. Its mouth gaped open, revealing rows of needle-like teeth. No eyes, just smooth skin covering deep, dark caverns in its skull. Its impossibly jointed limbs carried it forward with uncanny grace, talons scraping against stone.

Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.

Dane backed away, terror building to a crescendo inside him. His mother's face flashed in his mind – how long before she realized he was missing? Would anyone even find this place?

He turned and ran blindly through the nearest passage, squeezing through a narrow opening. Hope flared when he felt fresh air against his face – an exit?

A sharp pain lanced through his ankle. Looking down, he saw one of the creature's talons had pierced his skin, black and gleaming against his pale flesh. He yanked his leg away, continuing to crawl desperately through the narrowing passage.

Something warm trickled down his ankle – not blood, but a cloudy, translucent fluid seeping from the wound. Panic rising, Dane pressed his hand against the cave wall for support.

His fingers left behind not sweat, but a calcifying residue that hardened even as he watched in horror.

His backup light flickered pitifully once, twice, and died. The absolute darkness slithering over his skin.

In the perfect darkness, Dane felt rather than saw the creature's approach, its breath cold against his neck, its talons gentle as they touched his face.

Not to kill.

To preserve.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​