Chapter Thirteen: Beneath the Surface
Kael's legs felt like lead, each step heavier than the last as he followed Ciaran through the crumbling ruins of the Sanctum. The chamber behind them lay eerily silent, as though the death of the Primordial had robbed it of its purpose.
The air here was different—still oppressive, but quieter, like the Sanctum itself was holding its breath.
"How did I do that?" Kael muttered, more to himself than to Ciaran. His hands trembled faintly as he looked at his palms, half-expecting the shadow-blades to reform.
"You stopped thinking," Ciaran said without looking back. "The Void thrives on will, not doubt. It answered you because you commanded it."
Kael frowned. "It felt… alive. Like it wasn't just me."
Ciaran halted, turning on his heel. His golden eyes fixed on Kael, sharp and piercing. "That's because it is alive."
Kael froze. "What do you mean?"
"The Void isn't just a force—it's sentient. It has hunger, purpose. It gives power to those who can wield it, but it doesn't just serve you. It tests you. And it waits."
"Waits for what?" Kael asked, his voice low.
"For you to slip," Ciaran replied bluntly. "The power you're using—it's not a gift. It's a deal, and the Void always takes more than it gives."
Kael felt his chest tighten, his mind flickering back to the molten-eyed monstrosity, to the way the shadows had responded like loyal beasts. He wanted to argue, to deny it, but deep down, he couldn't shake the feeling that Ciaran was right.
The crystal at his chest pulsed again, faint but insistent, and Kael pressed his hand against it.
How far will I have to go?
The passage narrowed, forcing them to move single file as they descended deeper into the ruins. The walls were slick with condensation, the air thick and heavy with an unnatural humidity. The runes that had once lined the corridors were sparser here, their faint crimson glow almost entirely snuffed out.
Kael broke the silence. "Where are we going?"
"To the source," Ciaran replied, his voice low.
"The source of what?"
Ciaran's steps slowed, and he glanced back. "The power you felt. The one that gave you your weapons—that's just a sliver of what's here. The crystal you're carrying is more than a map; it's a key. And we're about to see what it unlocks."
Kael felt a chill crawl up his spine. He tightened his grip on the satchel, the crystal's warmth a constant, nagging presence.
"I'm starting to think this isn't a good idea."
Ciaran smirked faintly. "Welcome to the club."
The corridor opened suddenly, spilling into a cavern so vast Kael couldn't see its ceiling or far walls. In the center of the cavern sat a massive pool of liquid shadow—black as pitch, yet shimmering faintly with red streaks that rippled across its surface like veins of fire.
Kael stopped dead, his throat dry. "What is that?"
"The Void's Well," Ciaran said quietly, reverence in his voice. "The heart of this place."
The Well hummed. It was a low, bone-deep sound that vibrated through the air, through the stone, and straight into Kael's chest. The shadows around its edge moved as though alive, reaching faintly outward like grasping hands.
Kael took a step back. "I don't like this."
"You're not supposed to," Ciaran replied. "But if you want answers, this is where you'll find them."
Before Kael could argue, the crystal in his satchel flared to life. Its glow burned through the fabric, casting green light across the cavern walls. It pulsed violently now, its rhythm matching the hum of the Well.
Kael staggered as the crystal's warmth turned to heat, searing against his chest. He ripped the satchel open, pulling the crystal free. It floated from his hands, suspended in midair as its glow intensified.
"What's happening?" Kael shouted, the wind suddenly roaring around him.
Ciaran's voice was steady but urgent. "The Well is reacting to it. Hold your ground!"
The shadows around the Well surged upward in towering waves, coiling like serpents. The hum became a roar, vibrating so hard that cracks spidered across the cavern floor.
The crystal exploded with light.
Kael cried out as the force hit him, knocking him to his knees. The shadows surged toward him, wrapping around his limbs, his chest, his very skin. They didn't feel like chains this time—they felt like claws, sharp and invasive.
"Kael!" Ciaran shouted. "Fight it!"
Kael's mind spiraled. The shadows poured into him, flooding his body, his soul, burning him from the inside out. His screams were swallowed by the roar of the Well, his vision darkening as the world warped around him.
Then he saw it.
A figure emerged within the Well, black as night but with veins of crimson light coursing through its form. Its face was obscured, but its presence was overwhelming—a towering force of power and will.
"You are mine now."
The voice resonated through Kael's mind, deeper than anything he had ever heard. It wasn't a whisper—it was a proclamation.
Kael gritted his teeth, his body convulsing as he tried to fight back. "I… am not… yours!"
The shadows flared brighter, and Kael felt something inside him snap. A new power erupted from his core—hot, furious, and alive. The shadows that had invaded him recoiled, as though burned.
Kael staggered to his feet, his body shaking. He felt different. The shadows around him no longer writhed—they obeyed. They hovered at his command, flowing across his skin like smoke but solidifying where he willed them to.
The figure in the Well recoiled, its molten veins flaring angrily. "Impossible!"
Kael raised his hand, and the shadows answered. They surged forward like a tidal wave, striking the figure in a torrent of black fire. The cavern shook as the figure roared, its voice echoing in fury before it was swallowed by the Well.
The light dimmed. The shadows settled. The hum faded.
Kael collapsed to his knees, gasping for air. The crystal dropped beside him, its glow flickering weakly.
Ciaran approached slowly, his golden eyes wide with disbelief. "What… did you just do?"
Kael looked up, his hands trembling as the shadows coiled around his arms like living gauntlets. His voice was hoarse, but steady.
"I took it back," Kael said.
Ciaran studied him for a long moment before speaking. "Took what back?"
Kael clenched his fists, the shadows responding to his will—sharper, stronger, more controlled.
"Myself."