The Veil was dying.
Kael could feel it in the air, a suffocating heaviness that clung to every stone and shadow. The once-pristine halls, where assassins had tread with quiet precision, were now crumbling ruins drenched in blood and chaos. The intricate sigils carved into the walls had begun to twist and warp, their shapes corrupted into jagged spirals that pulsed faintly with a sickly, greenish glow.
He moved cautiously, his footsteps silent as he navigated the upper levels. His body protested with every step, a sharp reminder of the toll his magic had taken. The ache in his chest had grown into a steady, pulsing pain, and his limbs felt heavier, as though the shadows themselves had begun to weigh him down.
Still, he pressed forward, his sharp eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of movement. The corridors were empty now, but the faint echoes of distant screams reminded him that he was far from alone.
The medallion in his pocket pulsed faintly, its cold surface pressing against his skin. It hadn't spoken since his encounter with the cloaked figure, but its presence was a constant reminder of the truth he'd glimpsed—a truth that gnawed at the edges of his mind like a splinter buried too deep to remove.
An experiment. A failed masterpiece.
Kael exhaled slowly, forcing the thought to the back of his mind. He couldn't afford distractions. Not now.
He rounded a corner, his sharp gaze locking onto a set of double doors at the end of the corridor. The wood was old, splintered, and warped, but the faint glow of corrupted symbols traced across its surface made him hesitate.
The air was colder here, thick with an unnatural stillness that set his instincts on edge. Kael approached the doors slowly, his hand tightening around the hilt of his dagger as he studied the carvings. They pulsed faintly, their shapes writhing in time with the hum of the medallion in his pocket.
He reached out cautiously, his fingers brushing against the cold surface of the wood. The symbols flared brighter for a brief moment, and a sharp jolt shot through his arm, cold and electric.
Kael staggered back, his breath hitching as the shadows around him rippled violently.
And then, he heard it.
The whispers.
They were louder now, sharper, threading through the air like the discordant notes of a broken melody. Kael clenched his jaw, forcing himself to steady his breathing as the sound grew, filling the chamber like a rising tide.
The doors creaked open on their own, the corrupted light spilling into the corridor as the whispers rose to a crescendo. Kael hesitated for only a moment before stepping inside, his shadow tendrils coiling tightly around him like a shield.
The chamber beyond was vast, its high ceiling disappearing into the darkness above. Faint light emanated from the corrupted sigils that lined the walls, casting eerie shadows that twisted and writhed like living things.
But it wasn't the light that drew Kael's attention.
It was the bodies.
They hung from the walls like grotesque decorations, their limbs bound in jagged chains that pulsed faintly with the same sickly light as the symbols. Their faces were frozen in expressions of agony, their hollow eyes staring blankly into the void.
Kael's chest tightened as he moved closer, his sharp eyes scanning the bodies. Some wore the dark robes of the guild, their weapons still strapped to their sides. Others were strangers, their armor mismatched and crude, their hands twisted into unnatural claws.
The corruption hadn't just twisted the walls—it had twisted the people, warping their bodies into monstrous parodies of their former selves.
Kael's gaze lingered on one of the figures—a guild assassin whose face was half-obscured by the writhing shadows that clung to him like a second skin. His lips parted, a faint whisper escaping as he stared at the body.
"This… isn't art."
The words left his mouth before he could stop them, his voice trembling faintly. He wasn't sure why he'd said it—why the sight of this grotesque tableau filled him with something so close to revulsion. It wasn't the blood or the death. It was the lack of intent, of purpose.
This wasn't creation. This was destruction for its own sake, raw and chaotic.
Kael exhaled slowly, forcing himself to turn away from the scene. The whispers were louder now, filling the chamber with their discordant melody as the shadows around him pulsed in time with the corrupted light.
And then, the trap was sprung.
The first blade came from behind, slicing through the air toward his neck. Kael's body moved on instinct, his feet shifting as he ducked low, the shadow tendrils around him lashing out in response.
The blade missed him by inches, embedding itself in the stone wall with a sharp clang. Kael spun sharply, his dagger flashing as he slashed at his attacker—a hulking figure cloaked in shadows, their features obscured by the writhing darkness.
The figure recoiled, but another attacker emerged from the shadows, their twin blades slicing toward Kael's chest. He deflected the first strike, his dagger catching the blade in a shower of sparks, but the second blade grazed his arm, drawing a thin line of blood.
Kael staggered back, his breathing sharp and uneven as more figures emerged from the shadows. They surrounded him, their movements deliberate and predatory, their weapons glinting faintly in the corrupted light.
Five. No, six.
Kael's chest burned, the ache from earlier flaring into a sharp, pulsing pain. The toll of his shadow magic was catching up to him, his limbs heavy and his vision blurring at the edges.
But he didn't falter.
Kael exhaled slowly, his sharp eyes narrowing as the shadow tendrils around him coiled tighter.
"You think this is enough to kill me?" he murmured, his voice calm despite the chaos around him.
The figures hesitated for a brief moment, their weapons raised.
And then Kael moved.
The shadows surged outward in a violent wave, coiling around the attackers like serpents. The first figure screamed as the tendrils tightened around their limbs, pulling them to the ground. The second lunged at Kael, their blade slashing through the air, but he sidestepped the attack, his dagger slicing upward in a sharp arc that found its mark.
Blood sprayed across the stone, mingling with the corrupted light as Kael pressed forward, his movements fluid and deliberate. The shadows obeyed his every command, lashing out at his enemies with a precision that felt almost unnatural.
But the toll was mounting.
The ache in his chest grew sharper with every strike, every movement, until it felt like his ribs were splintering under the weight of the shadows. His breaths came faster, his vision blurring as the figures closed in around him.
Kael's lips curled into a faint smile, his voice low.
"Let's see how far this body can go."
The shadows pulsed violently, their tendrils striking out with a force that sent the remaining attackers sprawling to the ground. Kael moved through the chaos like a painter shaping his masterpiece, his dagger flashing in deliberate arcs as he cut through his enemies.
When the last figure fell, the chamber fell silent once more.
Kael staggered, his hand clutching at his chest as the shadows around him wavered and receded. The ache in his body was overwhelming now, the weight of his magic pressing down on him like a vice.
But as he straightened, his sharp eyes scanning the carnage around him, a faint smile tugged at the edges of his lips.
The bodies lay in perfect symmetry, their blood pooling in flowing patterns that caught the faint light of the corrupted sigils.
It was beautiful.
Kael turned toward the exit, the whispers still threading through his mind as the medallion pulsed faintly in his pocket.
"Kael…"