The Monstra’s cavernous halls pulsed with a slow, rhythmic heartbeat, as though the Grimm itself was aware of the two figures moving through its innards. The faint glow of red veins along the walls flickered, guiding them deeper into the belly of the beast.

Hazel followed in silence. She rarely questioned Salem’s commands, but the unease stirring in her chest felt undeniable.

At last, they entered a vast chamber. The air grew thick, the temperature colder, as if the Monstra held its breath. At the center of the room lay a pool—a swirling mass of black, glossy and still, save for the occasional ripple that marred its surface. Its inky depths stretched wide, the void seeming to extend far beyond what the eye could see.

Hazel’s gaze lingered on it for a moment before shifting toward Salem, whose pale figure stood at the edge of the pool. She faced the dark liquid, her expression unreadable as ever.

“Is something the matter?” Hazel's voice, low and steady, pierced the silence. “Have I displeased you?”

Salem turned her head slightly, those crimson eyes sharp yet calm.

“No, Hazel.” Salem replied, her voice smooth and patient. “This is not a punishment.”

Hazel’s brow furrowed as her gaze dropped back to the pool. “Then… why?”

Salem’s eyes flickered to the water, the movement subtle. “Let’s call it… necessity.”

Hazel stiffened. It was a vague answer, one Salem often gave when the truth served little purpose.

The surface of the pool began to stir. Gentle at first—tiny ripples expanding outward—until the liquid began to churn with unnatural energy. Pockets of black foam surfaced, popping silently as bubbles rose and burst in the dark.

Hazel’s eyes narrowed. She could feel it. Her voice dipped lower. "And what is it you need of me?”

Salem’s hand extended toward the pool, but her gaze never left Hazel’s. “To trust me.”

Hazel remained still, watching as the water twisted and coiled upon itself like a living thing.