What Lurks Below
The hum from the temple deepened into a low, resonating growl, shaking the air around them like the first rumble of a storm. Dust trickled from the spires above, and Kael instinctively stepped back, his muscles tensed.
"Ciaran," Kael said, his voice taut, "what did I just wake up?"
Ciaran's golden eyes flicked to the temple entrance, where the runes along the archway now blazed an angry crimson. His fingers tightened on the hilt of his blackened blade, and for the first time since they'd met, Kael saw something like wariness in his gaze.
"Something old," Ciaran muttered, "and something hungry."
From within the darkness of the temple, the growl swelled into a series of ragged breaths—each one heavier than the last. Kael's heart thudded painfully as a figure began to emerge, silhouetted against the faint, pulsing glow of the runes.
At first, it seemed human.
But as it drew closer, the lantern light revealed the truth.
Its body was impossibly gaunt, like a man whose skin had been stretched too thin over jagged, protruding bones. Black veins ran along its limbs, throbbing and glowing faintly with the same red light as the runes. Its eyes were hollow pits of shadow, void of life but brimming with malice. It staggered forward with jerky, unnatural movements, its twisted fingers clawing at the air.
Kael stumbled back, the satchel pressing against his chest as though it were trying to merge with him. "What is that thing?"
Ciaran didn't take his eyes off the creature. "One of the lost. Wielders who gave too much of themselves to the Void and were swallowed by it. They don't die, Kael—they just forget who they were."
The thing let out a guttural screech and lunged.
Ciaran moved first, his blade flashing in the faint light as he met the creature head-on. He ducked under its clawed swipe and slashed at its side, the edge of the blade trailing dark mist where it connected. The creature staggered, but instead of retreating, it turned on him with unnatural speed.
"Kael!" Ciaran barked. "Move!"
Kael snapped out of his daze just as the creature lunged toward him. Its clawed hand shot forward, and Kael threw himself to the ground, barely dodging its attack. The stone cracked where its hand struck, shards exploding outward.
Rolling to his feet, Kael's pulse hammered as the shadows around him stirred. He could feel them pulling at his mind, urging him to let go, to fight.
"No," he hissed under his breath. Not again.
Ciaran darted in again, his movements fluid and precise as he carved a deep gash into the creature's back. This time, it shrieked in pain, its voice echoing like metal scraping against stone. But instead of collapsing, the black veins on its body surged
with light, pulsating violently as if the wound had only fueled its rage. The creature spun toward Ciaran, its claws slashing in wide, frenzied arcs.
Ciaran leapt back, narrowly avoiding the strikes, but the force of the blows shattered a nearby column, sending rubble crashing to the ground.
"Kael!" Ciaran snapped, his voice sharp. "Whatever you're doing, stop standing there and help!"
Kael's hands trembled as he clutched the satchel, his mind racing. He didn't want to lose control again. The memories of the rooftop and the mangled soldiers still haunted him, the screams, the broken bodies—but the creature was relentless, and Ciaran couldn't hold it off alone.
The shadows at his feet writhed, sensing his hesitation. They stretched toward him, alive and eager, whispering promises he didn't want to hear.
Let us in, the voice urged, deep and resonant. You cannot fight this alone. Let us show you your strength.
The creature lunged at Ciaran again, faster this time, and its claws scraped against his blade with a shrill, grating sound. Ciaran staggered, his golden eyes narrowing in frustration. "Kael, if you don't step in now, we're both dead!"
Kael clenched his fists, his teeth grinding as he gave in. "Fine," he growled.
The shadows surged at his command. They poured out from beneath him, twisting and coiling like living smoke. For a brief moment, Kael felt the same pull as before—that intoxicating rush of power, cold and overwhelming, like plunging into icy water.
The creature froze mid-attack, its head snapping toward Kael. It let out a shriek that pierced the air, its hollow eyes locking onto the shadows spiraling around him.
"Good," Ciaran muttered, stepping back. "Now keep it distracted while I—"
Before he could finish, the creature charged at Kael with unnatural speed, its gaunt frame moving like a streak of shadow itself.
Kael's instincts took over. He threw out his hand, and the shadows obeyed. They shot forward, colliding with the creature in midair and wrapping around its limbs like chains. The impact sent the creature crashing into a nearby wall, dust and rubble exploding around it.
Kael staggered, the effort leaving him winded. His vision blurred for a moment as the shadows twisted tighter, binding the creature in place. It thrashed and howled, the black veins on its body glowing brighter as it fought against the tendrils.
But the shadows didn't stop.
They tightened further, and Kael felt them feeding—draining something from the creature, pulling it apart piece by piece. Its screeches grew weaker, its movements more frantic, and Kael realized with a jolt of horror that the shadows weren't just holding it—they were devouring it.
"Kael!" Ciaran's voice cut through the haze. "Pull them back!"
Kael tried to let go, but the shadows resisted. They pulsed with a will of their own, refusing to retreat. The creature's hollow eyes turned toward him, wide with terror, and Kael felt his stomach churn.
"Stop!" he shouted, his voice cracking. He yanked his hand back, and the shadows finally released their hold, retreating like a tide.
The creature collapsed to the ground, its body twitching weakly. Its veins no longer glowed, and the light in its eyes flickered like a dying flame. Ciaran approached cautiously, his blade at the ready, and with one swift motion, he drove it into the creature's chest.
The thing let out one last, rasping breath before falling still.
Kael sank to his knees, his chest heaving. The shadows still lingered around him, curling faintly at the edges of his vision, but they no longer moved with the same ferocity.
Ciaran turned to him, his expression grim. "You lost control again."
Kael shook his head, his voice shaking. "I—I didn't mean to. They just—"
"They don't listen to intent," Ciaran interrupted, his tone sharp. "They feed off you—your fear, your anger, your desperation. If you don't learn to master them, they'll master you."
Kael looked away, his fists clenching. "I didn't have a choice."
"There's always a choice," Ciaran said coldly.
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the faint rumble of the temple around them. Kael forced himself to his feet, his legs shaky but steady enough to stand.
"What was that thing?" he asked quietly, his voice hollow.
"One of the lost," Ciaran replied, sheathing his blade. "It was human once. A Wielder like you. But the Void took more than it gave."
Kael's stomach twisted. "There are more of them, aren't there?"
Ciaran nodded. "This is their home now. The further we go, the worse it gets."
Kael swallowed hard, his gaze drifting toward the temple's darkened entrance. The whispers in his mind were quiet now, but their presence lingered like a shadow over his thoughts.
"What happens if I lose control again?" Kael asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Ciaran's golden eyes met his, unflinching. "Then I'll kill you before you hurt anyone else."
Kael stiffened, the weight of the words hitting him like a blow. Ciaran didn't say it as a threat—it was a promise.
"Let's keep moving," Ciaran said, turning toward the temple. "The crystal isn't done with us yet."
Kael followed reluctantly, the satchel pressing against his chest like a brand. As they stepped deeper into the ruins, the shadows around them grew darker, denser, like a living thing watching their every move.
And somewhere in the distance, the faint sound of whispers began again.