The Dawnhound's low growl echoed as we descended further into the passage, the sound reverberating in the close air. The walls pressed inward, damp with condensation, their smooth surfaces whispering of hands—or claws—that had carved them. I kept one hand on the sword hilt at my side, the other holding the guide stone. Its warmth steadied me, though its pulses were faster now, more insistent as if it sensed what lay ahead.
The Dawnhound stopped abruptly, turning to face me. Its glowing eyes narrowed, letting out a guttural sound—a warning, a command. My companion whimpered, cowering behind me, its spines quivering.
"What is it?" I asked though the words sounded hollow against the oppressive silence. The Dawnhound didn't answer, of course. Instead, it padded forward to a circular depression in the stone floor, where faint lines spiraled outward like ripples on a pond. In the center, a small pedestal rose, barely taller than my knee. Something was embedded in it—a fragment of crystal that glowed faintly, its color shifting like trapped starlight.
The Dawnhound turned back to me and growled again, this time softer. It stepped aside, leaving the path to the pedestal clear.
"You want me to…" My voice trailed off as I understood. The guide stone's pulses quickened, matching the rhythm of my heartbeat.
I approached cautiously, the cavern air crackling with unseen energy. As I stepped onto the spiral pattern, a low hum resonated through the floor, vibrating up my legs and into my chest. The pedestal's crystal flared brighter, the shifting colors stabilizing into a piercing blue. I hesitated, glancing back at the Dawnhound.
Its eyes locked with mine, steady and unreadable.
With a deep breath, I reached out and touched the crystal.
The moment my fingers made contact, the world fractured. Light exploded outward, blinding and consuming, the hum rising into a deafening roar. Pain seared through my chest—a tearing, ripping sensation that made me stagger. I gasped, clutching at the guide stone in my pocket, but it burned too hot to hold, forcing me to let it drop to the ground.
The stone shattered on impact.
The shards hovered mid-air, suspended in a glowing vortex that spiraled around me. I tried to move, to step back, but my body refused to obey. The Dawnhound growled, its voice cutting through the cacophony, but it didn't intervene. It stood still, watching, its tail flicking with barely contained tension.
The shards of the guide stone coalesced, each fragment drawn toward the center of my chest. I felt them embed themselves—not into my skin, but deeper, piercing into something I couldn't name. My soul. It was the only word that came to mind, absurd as it sounded. The pain was beyond anything physical, a fire that consumed and reshaped me, forging something new from the ashes of who I'd been.
Then, as abruptly as it began, the light vanished.
I collapsed to my knees, gasping for air. The cavern was silent again, save for the distant water drip. My chest ached, a hollow, pulsing ache that resonated with the fragments now fused into me. I looked down at my hands, expecting to see burns or scars, but they were unchanged. The only sign of what had happened was the faint, golden glow emanating from beneath my skin, pulsing in time with my heartbeat.
The Dawnhound approached slowly, its movements cautious. It stopped in front of me, leaning down to sniff at my chest, where the glow was strongest. Then it let out a low, approving growl, its breath warm against my face.
"You knew this would happen," I rasped, my voice hoarse.
It didn't respond, but the look in its eyes was enough. This had been its purpose all along. Guiding me to this moment. Transforming me.
The companion at my side whined softly, nuzzling against my arm. I reached out to scratch behind its ears, but my hand trembled. I felt... altered. Not just stronger or faster—though I could sense that too, a newfound vitality humming through my veins. It was deeper than that. A connection, raw and unfiltered, to something vast and ancient. The monsters, the carvings, the stories—they weren't just warnings. They were part of a larger web, and I was now entangled in its threads.
The Dawnhound stepped away, turning toward a new passage that sloped upward, its jagged edges framed by faint, golden light. It looked back at me, waiting.
"Is it over?" I asked. My voice echoed hollowly, the answer already clear.
The Dawnhound snorted softly, as if amused, and started walking. My companion nudged me again, urging me to rise. With a groan, I forced myself to my feet, every muscle protesting. But the ache in my chest wasn't just pain anymore. It was power—wild, untamed, and terrifying.
As I followed the Dawnhound, I realized the carvings on the walls had changed again. They depicted a lone figure surrounded by the same monstrous forms from earlier. But now, the monsters weren't attacking. They stood still, their fierce postures subdued, their glowing eyes fixed on the figure at the center. That figure's chest glowed with the same golden light that pulsed within me now.
The stone wasn't just a guide anymore. It was a part of me. And I was no longer just a hunter.
I was something else entirely.