The silence in the depths of the Veil wasn't an absence of sound—it was a presence, heavy and oppressive, wrapping around Kael like the shadows that clung to his skin. His footsteps echoed softly against the slick stone floor as he moved deeper into the twisting passageways. The faint ache in his chest—the price of his earlier use of the shadows—gnawed at the edges of his focus, but he pushed it aside. His mind burned with questions, his thoughts looping back to the cryptic words that had been hurled at him.
"You were supposed to save us…"
Save them? The words gnawed at him. Kael didn't even know who "them" was supposed to be. Or what. His memories were still fragmented, shards of a life that wasn't his own. He pressed his fingers lightly against the damp wall as he walked, his touch grounding him in the physical world even as his thoughts spiraled inward.
Ahead, the corridor sloped upward, the incline gradual but steady. The air grew thinner, colder, carrying with it the faint metallic tang of blood—a reminder of the violence above. The echoes of his pursuers had faded for now, but Kael wasn't foolish enough to believe they'd stopped. He could feel them, like an itch at the base of his spine, a constant reminder that he was the hunted.
As the corridor widened, Kael slowed, his sharp eyes scanning the new space. The walls here were smoother, the rough stone giving way to carefully cut slabs. Faded carvings ran along their length, barely visible in the dim light of his flickering shadow tendrils. The symbols were similar to those in the lower chamber, but their patterns were more deliberate, their purpose clearer.
He moved closer, brushing his fingers against the carvings. They pulsed faintly under his touch, cold and alive, sending a jolt through his hand that made him pull back instinctively. His shadow magic stirred in response, curling protectively around his fingers as though warning him away.
Kael narrowed his eyes, his thoughts sharpening. These carvings weren't just remnants of the past—they were something active, something tied to the darkness that clung to him. And yet, they didn't feel entirely hostile. They felt… expectant.
A sound broke the silence.
Kael turned sharply, his dagger already in hand. The shadows around him rippled, coiling tighter as he focused on the source of the noise. It was faint, a shuffling sound, followed by a low, wheezing breath.
"Don't… don't kill me," a voice rasped.
Kael's gaze locked onto a figure slumped against the far wall of the corridor. It was a man, his dark robes torn and bloodied. He clutched at his side, his fingers slick with crimson, and his face was pale, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and desperation.
Kael didn't lower his weapon.
"Who are you?" he asked, his voice cold and steady.
The man flinched, his gaze darting to the dagger in Kael's hand. "I—I'm nobody. Just a low-tier scout. Please, I'm not here to hurt you." He coughed, the sound wet and painful, and blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth.
Kael stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate. The shadows around him pulsed faintly, their presence cold and sharp, a reminder of the power he could unleash at a moment's notice.
"Then why are you here?" Kael asked.
The man hesitated, his bloodied fingers tightening against his side. "They told us… they told us to hunt you down. Said you betrayed the guild. But I—I don't know anything. I'm just following orders. Please, I don't want to die."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "Betrayed the guild?"
The man nodded quickly, his breathing shallow. "That's what they said. That you… that you killed Master Venrick. That you were working with the outsiders."
"Master Venrick…" The name felt familiar, heavy with significance, but the memories it stirred were faint, like the dying embers of a fire. Kael's mind sharpened, seizing on the scout's words. "And these 'outsiders'? Who are they?"
The man flinched again, his gaze darting to the carvings on the walls. For a moment, fear flashed in his eyes—deeper than the fear of Kael, deeper than the fear of death.
"I don't know," he whispered. "No one does. But they're powerful. They're the reason the guild fell apart. They whispered promises to the high council… promises of power, of immortality. Some of us resisted. But most…" He trailed off, his voice trembling. "Most of us gave in."
Kael took another step closer, his shadow tendrils curling around the dagger in his hand. "And me?"
The scout swallowed hard. "You were supposed to be different. You were supposed to save us. But something… something went wrong."
Kael's chest tightened, the man's words striking a chord deep within him. He didn't understand what it meant, not fully, but he could feel the weight of it pressing down on him. The fragmented memories of this body, the betrayal, the cryptic symbols—all of it was tied together, part of some larger puzzle he had yet to piece together.
"Please," the man said again, his voice breaking. "I told you everything I know. Let me go. I—I won't tell anyone I saw you. I swear."
Kael stared down at him, his expression unreadable. The scout's eyes were wide, pleading, his breaths shallow and ragged.
For a moment, Kael felt a flicker of something—pity, perhaps. A remnant of the humanity he once knew. But it was fleeting, distant, like a whisper carried on the wind.
He knelt slowly, his dagger still held loosely in his hand.
"Let you go?" he murmured, his voice soft. "After you hunted me? After you called me a traitor?"
The man flinched, his hands trembling as he tried to back away. "I—I didn't have a choice! I was just following orders!"
Kael tilted his head, his gaze cold and unblinking. "You had a choice. You chose to live. And now…" His voice trailed off, and a faint smile tugged at his lips. "Now, you'll be part of something beautiful."
The shadows surged forward, their tendrils curling around the scout's limbs like vines. The man screamed, his voice raw and filled with terror, but the sound was swallowed by the darkness. The tendrils tightened, pulling his body into a careful, deliberate pose.
Kael stepped back, his breathing steady as he surveyed his work. The scout's body was frozen in an almost serene position, his head tilted upward as though gazing at the carvings on the wall. Blood pooled beneath him, spreading outward in elegant arcs that caught the dim light of Kael's shadow tendrils.
"Better," Kael murmured, his voice quiet.
He turned away from the scene, his mind already shifting back to the words the scout had spoken. The outsiders. The Eternal Choir. Whatever this body had been a part of, it was far larger—and far darker—than Kael had anticipated.
The whispers returned as he walked away, low and melodic, echoing faintly in the back of his mind.
"Kael…"