We approached the cliff edge and shined our lights into the void. The beams vanished into nothingness, swallowed by an abyss so vast it defied comprehension.

Across the chasm—perhaps three hundred feet away—a temple-like structure hung suspended in midair. The floating palace was crafted entirely from white jade, its surface emitting an ethereal glow that made it seem like a mirage in the darkness.


That had to be the main burial chamber.

Three iron chains, each no thicker than a man's arm, stretched from beneath our feet across the void to the floating palace. They vanished and reappeared in the darkness, swaying in the updrafts from below—three precarious paths to our destination or three routes straight to hell.

"Holy shit…" Mike's Adam's apple bobbed as he stared into the abyss. "How the hell are we supposed to cross? Walk a goddamn tightrope?"


"The tomb builder suspended the burial chamber over the abyss specifically to prevent intruders from reaching it." Leo's face was grim as he limped to the edge and directed his flashlight toward the opposite cliff face.

"Look there."


Following his light, we saw the cliff face beneath the floating palace was riddled with honeycomb-like openings—hundreds of small, dark holes clustered together.

Leo fell silent, then picked up a fist-sized rock and hurled it toward the opposite cliff.

The stone arced through the darkness and struck the cliff face with a sharp crack.

The instant that sound echoed across the void—

SCREEEECH!

An ear-splitting shriek erupted from the holes! Thousands of blood-red bats—each the size of a man's palm—poured forth like a crimson flood bursting through a dam!

They formed a churning cloud of crimson, their combined screeches like daggers in our ears. After several seconds, they retreated as one, flowing back into their holes like an ebbing tide, leaving behind an oppressive silence.

Mike's face drained of color, his hands trembling on his rifle. "What the hell… what kind of demon bats are those?"

"Cliff bats," Leo whispered, his lips bloodless. "But not ordinary ones. That blood-red coloration isn't natural. The tomb builder must have bred them for generations, using cinnabar or some other toxin to create these… abominations."

He drew a shaky breath. "This isn't just a nest. It's a sound-activated biological trap. These bats have been conditioned to respond to specific frequencies. When we cross, we can't make any noise above a whisper, or…" He glanced upward. "What we just saw will happen directly above us."

We all understood. These final hundred meters were truly a path of death.

There was no turning back. We exchanged glances, each seeing the grim resolve in the others' eyes.

We wrapped our hands and feet with torn cloth strips, layering them to increase grip and muffle any sound. We stuffed damp cloth into our mouths to silence any involuntary noises of pain or fear.

We selected the middle chain, which appeared sturdiest. Without words, we communicated with nods and glances, then one by one lay across the cold metal and began inching forward, moving with agonizing slowness.

My heart hammered against my ribs, so loud I feared the bats might hear it echoing across the chasm.

In the deathly quiet, my senses heightened to supernatural levels. I felt every ridge and imperfection in the chain beneath my wrapped hands, smelled the dank wind rising from below, even heard the rush of blood through my own veins.

Time stretched like taffy, each inch of progress taking what felt like hours.

Like three insignificant insects clinging to a thread above oblivion, we inched toward the floating palace.

Halfway across… sixty feet to go… thirty feet…

Freedom seemed within reach.

Suddenly Mike, crawling behind me, faltered. The wound from the clay warrior chamber, combined with our grueling journey, had finally drained his last reserves. A spasm of pain shot through his back, weakening his grip on the chain.

The Winchester rifle strapped to his back slipped downward.

Clink.

The metal butt of the rifle struck a chain link—softly, but with unmistakable clarity.

The sound wasn't loud.

But in the perfect silence, that tiny sound rang like a funeral bell.

A heartbeat of silence.

Then—

SCREEEEEEEECH!

A volcanic eruption of sound burst from the cliff face!

Thousands of blood-red bats poured from the holes like a crimson tsunami, forming a living curtain of wings and fangs that surged toward us with the howl of death itself!

The crimson swarm descended upon us like a storm made flesh, their shrieks piercing our souls. Death had never seemed so tangible, so inevitable.

We dangled from the chain, unable to advance or retreat—three helpless insects caught in a web.

"It's over…" For the first time, genuine despair filled Mike's eyes.

In that moment, a surge of defiant rage broke through my paralysis. I remembered the emergency flare in my pack—our last desperate chance!

I clamped my teeth on the chain to anchor myself and freed one hand to dig frantically through my pack. My fingers closed around the cold metal cylinder.

Acting on pure instinct, I yanked the pin and hurled the flare into the darkness below!

The flare arced downward, then erupted in brilliant light halfway to the bottom of the chasm!

WHOOSH!

A miniature red sun blazed in the void! Blinding light flooded the abyss, accompanied by a piercing whistle that sent shock waves rippling upward!

The bats—hypersensitive to both light and sound—went berserk. Like moths drawn to flame, they abandoned us and dove toward the brilliant flare.

Now's our chance!

"GO!" I shouted.

Adrenaline surged through our veins. Survival instinct overrode caution. We abandoned our careful crawl and scrambled forward on all fours, racing along the chain toward the floating palace.

Behind us, the bats' frenzied screeches filled the air. Below, the flare slowly dimmed as it fell deeper into the abyss. We covered the final thirty feet in a desperate sprint between life and death.

Our feet hit the solid jade floor of the floating palace, and we collapsed in unison. We lay gasping, lungs burning as we gulped the cold, ancient air.

The chamber was vast and austere. Built entirely of massive white jade blocks, it contained nothing but a single enormous bronze coffin resting at its center.

The coffin stretched nearly thirteen feet long and seven feet wide, its blue-black surface covered with intricate dragon and phoenix engravings. It radiated an aura of imperial majesty. All our suffering, all our terror—it would all be worth it if this coffin held what we sought.

The secret of the "Gate of Immortality" lay before us.

Supporting each other, we staggered to our feet and approached the coffin.

"O-open it," Mike whispered, his voice quavering with anticipation.

We positioned ourselves around the coffin, wedging our tools into the seam where lid met base.

"One! Two! THREE!"

At my signal, we pushed down with all our remaining strength.

Screeeeech

A metallic groan rose from the depths of antiquity as the massive lid slowly, grudgingly, slid aside.