The air was thicker down here—stale, heavy, and cloying with the scent of damp stone and something metallic Kael couldn't quite place. He wiped sweat from his brow, his boots crunching against loose gravel as he followed Ciaran deeper into the tunnels. The chamber behind them, where Kael had unleashed the shadows, now felt like a distant nightmare. The silence weighed on him like a stone pressing against his chest.
"Where are we going?" Kael asked finally, his voice bouncing off the narrow walls of the passage.
"To meet someone," Ciaran replied without looking back, his tone as unbothered as if they were strolling through a market square. His black cloak trailed behind him, its hem brushing against the uneven ground.
"Who?"
"You'll see."
Kael scowled at the non-answer but said nothing more. His fingers twitched near the satchel as if to reassure himself the crystal was still there, still pulsing faintly with its unnatural energy. It had grown quieter since the fight—less demanding. That only unsettled him more.
The passage gradually widened, the walls giving way to an ancient corridor carved with the same twisting symbols Kael had seen in the chamber above. He slowed his steps, his gaze tracing the strange runes. They were etched deep into the stone, worn smooth by time but still glowing faintly, as if the light had been trapped in them for centuries.
"What are these symbols?" Kael asked, his voice hushed.
Ciaran glanced back at him, golden eyes glinting in the dim light. "Language of the old world. You'd call it forbidden magic. The Crown did everything it could to erase it, but some things refuse to die."
Kael frowned, his curiosity gnawing at him. "The old world?"
Ciaran stopped suddenly, turning to face Kael. "What do you know about the Void?"
Kael hesitated. "Stories. My father used to say the Void was where lost souls go. That it's endless, empty, and corrupts anyone who touches it."
Ciaran tilted his head, his gaze sharp. "Not bad for a bedtime story. But the Void isn't just emptiness. It's power—raw, ancient, and unrelenting. It's the space between worlds, the root of all magic. Everything we Wield comes from it, whether the Crown admits it or not."
Kael swallowed hard. "And the crystal?"
"It's a fragment of that power. A doorway, of sorts."
Kael stared at him, unease clawing at his gut. "A doorway to what?"
Ciaran didn't answer. Instead, he turned and continued down the corridor. "Keep walking. We're close."
The passage opened suddenly into a vast underground expanse. Kael stopped in his tracks, his breath catching in his throat as he took it all in. The cavern stretched so far that the far walls were lost in shadow, the ceiling high and jagged like the inside of a monstrous maw. Towering spires of black stone jutted upward from the ground, their surfaces carved with glowing runes that pulsed faintly like veins of light. Around them, the remains of buildings sprawled—stone ruins half-buried in rubble and time.
A city.
"Welcome to Noxhall," Ciaran said, spreading his arms as if introducing a grand palace. "The city beneath the city."
Kael turned slowly, taking it all in. "This was… a real place?"
"Still is," Ciaran corrected, stepping onto a crumbling stone bridge that stretched across an underground chasm. "Long ago, this was the heart of Lunaris. Before the Crown, before the towers above us, before all of it."
Kael followed cautiously, his boots echoing against the ancient stones. "Why is it here?"
"Because magic has roots, Stormcloak. Power comes from somewhere, and this—" Ciaran gestured to the ruins around them—"is where it began. The first Wielders walked these streets. They built this city to harness the Void's gifts. And when their power grew too great, they paid the price."
Kael's brow furrowed. "What happened to them?"
Ciaran's expression darkened. "They disappeared. Swallowed by the Void itself."
Kael shivered, the weight of the air pressing against him like a thousand unseen hands. He looked down into the chasm the bridge spanned and immediately wished he hadn't. The depths seemed endless, a pit of pure black that swallowed the light of the glowing runes. He could feel something down there—something watching.
"Eyes forward," Ciaran said sharply. "Stare too long, and it'll stare back."
Kael tore his gaze away, his pulse hammering in his ears. "And this is where you're bringing me?"
"To her."
Ciaran pointed ahead, and Kael followed his gaze to the far end of the bridge, where a faint light glowed. As they neared, Kael could make out the shape of a small structure—an altar carved from the same black stone as the spires, its surface inlaid with runes that glowed white instead of blue. Standing before it was a figure cloaked in shadow.
Kael slowed his steps. "Who's that?"
Ciaran didn't answer. He simply strode forward, stopping a few paces from the altar. "We're here," he announced.
The figure turned slowly. She wore a hooded cloak that seemed to shift and ripple as though it were made of smoke. When she spoke, her voice was calm but heavy with age, as if it carried the weight of centuries.
"You brought him," she said. Her face remained obscured beneath the hood, but Kael could feel her gaze settle on him, cold and assessing.
"I did," Ciaran replied. "He's the one."
Kael bristled. "The one what?"
The woman ignored him, stepping closer. "Let me see it."
Kael instinctively reached for the satchel, his grip tightening. "See what?"
"The crystal," she said simply. "It calls to me as it calls to you."
Kael looked at Ciaran, who gave him a small, encouraging nod. Reluctantly, Kael opened the satchel and withdrew the crystal. Its green light flared brighter now, filling the space between them. The woman extended her hand, her fingers thin and pale, as though they hadn't touched sunlight in years.
"Do you feel it?" she asked softly.
Kael hesitated. "Feel what?"
"The Void," she whispered, her voice like a sigh. "It calls to you. You were born to hold it, to shape it. But you must be careful. Power does not forgive carelessness."
Kael stared at the crystal as it pulsed, its rhythm matching his heartbeat. For a moment, he thought he could hear something—a faint sound, like a whisper carried on a faraway wind. It tugged at the edges of his mind, soft and insistent.
Kael…
He staggered back, the crystal slipping from his fingers.
The woman caught it, her hands closing around it with unnatural speed. She tilted her head slightly. "You will need training, boy. The shadows inside you are awake, but they are wild. If you do not learn to control them, they will destroy you."
Kael clenched his fists, his voice low. "I don't want them."
The woman's hood shifted slightly, as if she were smiling. "You may not want the Void, but it wants you. And it always gets what it wants."