The stone corridor stretched ahead of him like the spine of some great beast, the flickering light of distant torches casting jagged shadows along its uneven walls. Kael's steps were slower now, each one deliberate as he fought against the heaviness in his limbs. The sharp ache in his chest lingered like an uninvited guest, a constant reminder of the toll his shadow magic demanded.
His breaths came shallow and controlled, his sharp eyes scanning every corner of the dim passageway for movement. The silence here was different from the depths below—less oppressive, but no less dangerous. It was a silence born of expectation, the calm before a storm that he could feel gathering on the edges of his awareness.
Kael pressed his hand to his ribs, where the wound from earlier still stung faintly beneath the dried blood that clung to his skin. It was shallow, nothing fatal, but the discomfort gnawed at him, feeding into the growing tension in his mind.
The medallion in his pocket pulsed faintly, its surface cold against his fingers. It had been silent since the vision in the previous chamber, but its presence lingered, a constant weight that he couldn't ignore.
And with it, the whispers.
They weren't constant—just faint murmurs at the edges of his consciousness, like the memory of a song long forgotten. But every now and then, they sharpened, cutting through his thoughts like shards of glass.
"Kael…"
The voice was cold and melodic, heavy with a weight that sent a chill racing down his spine. It carried no malice, but there was something in its tone that made his skin crawl—a sense of authority that demanded obedience.
Kael exhaled slowly, forcing the voice to the back of his mind as he rounded another corner. The corridor opened into a smaller chamber, its walls lined with cracked stone shelves and shattered urns. Dust hung heavy in the air, catching the faint light of a single torch that flickered weakly in its sconce.
He stepped inside cautiously, his shadow tendrils rippling faintly around his arms as he scanned the room. It was empty, abandoned, the silence broken only by the faint drip of water from a crack in the ceiling.
Kael moved toward one of the shelves, his sharp eyes noting the scattered fragments of pottery and rusted blades that littered the floor. They were remnants of a time long past, their purpose forgotten, their meaning lost to decay.
But as he reached for one of the shards, his vision blurred.
The world around him shifted, the dim light of the chamber fading into darkness.
And then, the memories came.
They weren't his—not fully. They were fragmented, disjointed, like pieces of a puzzle scattered across a blank canvas.
He saw flashes of robed figures standing in a circle, their faces obscured by hoods. The air around them pulsed with an unnatural energy, the shadows at their feet writhing like living things.
A voice rang out—cold, commanding, laced with authority.
"The vessel is ready. Begin the binding."
The figures raised their hands in unison, their movements deliberate and precise. A swirling mass of shadows erupted from the center of the circle, coiling upward like a serpent. Its tendrils lashed out, striking each of the robed figures in turn, and the air was filled with a sound that was neither scream nor song but something in between.
Kael's breath hitched as the vision shifted.
He saw a man—a broken man, his body frail and motionless, his eyes hollow and distant. He was strapped to a chair in the center of the circle, his limbs bound by chains that pulsed with the same energy as the shadows.
Kael recognized him.
It was his old body.
The realization hit him like a blade to the chest, and the memory began to spiral. He saw flashes of pain, of light and darkness colliding in a violent dance. The shadows consumed the broken man, wrapping around him like a cocoon, and when they receded, he was gone.
In his place stood something new.
Kael gasped as the vision shattered, his surroundings snapping back into focus. He staggered, his hand bracing against the edge of the shelf as he fought to steady himself. His chest burned, his breaths coming shallow and ragged as the weight of what he'd seen settled over him.
The medallion pulsed faintly in his pocket, its cold presence anchoring him to the present.
Kael straightened slowly, his sharp eyes scanning the chamber once more. The whispers were louder now, their melodic hum threading through his thoughts like a needle through cloth.
But before he could make sense of them, a voice broke the silence.
"You shouldn't be here."
Kael turned sharply, his dagger already in hand, the shadows around him rippling in anticipation.
A figure stood in the doorway, their form shrouded in the dim light of the torch. They were cloaked in dark robes, their face obscured by a hood, but their posture was calm, unthreatening.
Kael's eyes narrowed. "And yet here I am."
The figure tilted their head slightly, their voice smooth and even. "You've seen it, haven't you? The truth. The shadows spoke to you."
Kael tightened his grip on the dagger, his voice cold. "Who are you?"
The figure stepped closer, their movements slow and deliberate. The torchlight caught the edge of their hood, revealing a sharp, angular jaw and piercing eyes that seemed to glow faintly in the darkness.
"Someone who knows what you are," they said, their tone carrying the weight of certainty.
Kael didn't move, his sharp gaze locked onto the figure as they stopped a few paces away. The shadows around him coiled tighter, their cold tendrils brushing against his skin like an unspoken warning.
"And what am I?" Kael asked, his voice low and steady.
The figure's lips curled into a faint smile. "An experiment. A vessel. A failed masterpiece."
The words struck like a hammer, but Kael's expression didn't falter. "Failed?"
The figure nodded. "You were meant to be perfect. A being of shadows, bound by the Choir's will. But something went wrong. You… resisted."
Kael's chest tightened, the weight of the medallion in his pocket growing heavier. The fragmented memories from the vision swirled in his mind, their edges sharp and cutting.
"And what does the Choir want with me now?" Kael asked.
The figure's smile faded. "To finish what they started."
The room grew colder, the faint hum of the medallion resonating in time with the shadows that writhed around Kael. He could feel their anticipation, their eagerness to strike, but he held them back, his sharp gaze fixed on the figure before him.
"Why are you telling me this?" he asked.
The figure tilted their head again, their glowing eyes narrowing slightly. "Because I want to see what you'll do. Will you fight them? Or will you become the weapon they intended?"
Kael's lips curled into a faint smile. "Why not both?"
The figure laughed softly, the sound low and melodic. "Perhaps you will surprise us after all."
Before Kael could respond, the figure stepped back into the shadows, their form dissolving into the darkness like smoke.
Kael remained still for a moment, his sharp eyes scanning the chamber for any sign of movement. But the figure was gone, leaving only silence and the faint hum of the medallion behind.
He exhaled slowly, the weight of their words settling over him like a shroud.
A failed masterpiece.
Kael's lips curled into a faint smile as he turned toward the exit.
"Then I suppose it's time to prove them wrong."