The air was colder now, biting at Kael's skin as he moved through the crumbling halls of the Veil. The shadows around him seemed restless, their faint tendrils rippling in response to the pulsing hum of the medallion in his pocket. It had grown louder since his battle with the corrupted creature, its whispers threading through his mind with a sharp, insistent urgency.
Kael pressed a hand against the wall as he walked, his fingers brushing over the rough stone. The ache in his chest hadn't subsided; if anything, it had deepened, settling into his ribs like a thorn he couldn't dislodge. His breathing was steady but shallow, his body moving with a precision that masked the weight pressing down on him.
But the pain wasn't enough to stop him. Not yet.
The whispers guided him forward, pulling him deeper into the ruins of the guild. The corridors here were narrower, the air heavier with decay and the faint metallic tang of old blood. Kael's sharp eyes scanned the walls, noting the faint remnants of carvings that had long since been worn away by time.
Ahead, the passage opened into a larger chamber, its high ceiling supported by crumbling pillars that stretched upward like skeletal fingers. The room was littered with the remnants of the guild's history—broken blades, shattered masks, and scraps of cloth that had once been the robes of assassins.
But it was the far wall that caught Kael's attention.
A massive, circular carving dominated the stone, its surface etched with intricate patterns that spiraled inward like a vortex. The symbols glowed faintly, their edges pulsing with the same sickly green light that had marked the corrupted chamber below.
Kael approached cautiously, his shadow tendrils curling protectively around him as he studied the carving. It wasn't like the symbols he'd seen before—not entirely. There was something more deliberate about it, something calculated.
The whispers in his mind grew louder, their discordant melody threading through his thoughts like a needle through cloth.
"Open it…"
Kael's hand moved on instinct, brushing against the cold surface of the carving. The moment his skin touched the stone, the symbols flared brighter, and a sharp jolt shot through his arm, cold and electric.
The wall groaned, the carving shifting as the stone beneath it began to crack. Slowly, the circular design slid inward, revealing a narrow passage that descended into darkness.
Kael exhaled slowly, his sharp eyes narrowing as he stepped forward.
The passage was steep, its walls smooth and unmarked, and the air grew colder as Kael descended. The faint glow of the corrupted symbols faded behind him, leaving only the soft, flickering light of his shadow tendrils to guide his way.
At the bottom of the passage, the space opened into another chamber—smaller than the one above, but no less ancient. The walls were lined with shelves carved directly into the stone, their surfaces cluttered with crumbling scrolls, leather-bound tomes, and shards of glass vials.
Kael's gaze swept over the room, his sharp eyes catching glimpses of faded symbols etched into the spines of the books and scrolls. They were similar to the carvings he'd seen above, but older, more intricate.
The whispers in his mind softened, their tone shifting into something almost reverent as he moved toward one of the shelves. His fingers brushed against the edge of a scroll, the brittle parchment crumbling slightly under his touch.
He unfurled it carefully, his sharp eyes scanning the jagged runes and symbols scrawled across its surface. Much of it was incomprehensible, written in a language that sent a faint chill racing down his spine. But there were pieces he could decipher—fragments of words and phrases that seemed to echo in his mind as he read them.
"The Choir's design transcends mortality…"
"To reshape the world, the vessel must endure…"
"Perfection requires destruction…"
Kael's chest tightened as the words cut through him, stirring the fractured memories that lingered at the edges of his mind. The experiments. The binding. The Choir's cold, melodic voice threading through it all.
He set the scroll aside, his hand trembling faintly as he reached for another. This one was a tome, its leather cover cracked and worn with age. The symbols etched into its surface pulsed faintly as Kael opened it, revealing pages filled with jagged script and detailed diagrams.
One of the diagrams caught his attention—a circular design similar to the carving on the wall above, but more intricate. At its center was a figure, bound in chains of shadow, their limbs stretched outward as though held in place by some unseen force.
The whispers in his mind surged, their tone sharp and urgent.
"This is what you were meant to be…"
Kael's breath hitched as the words threaded through his thoughts. He could feel the weight of them pressing down on him, the truth they carried cutting through him like shards of glass.
But before he could delve deeper, a sound broke the silence.
The faint scrape of steel against stone.
Kael's sharp eyes snapped to the entrance of the chamber, his shadow tendrils rippling faintly as he straightened.
"You've made quite the mess upstairs," a voice said, low and smooth.
A figure stepped into the chamber, their movements deliberate and unhurried. They were tall, their form cloaked in dark, flowing robes that shimmered faintly in the dim light. A mask obscured their face, its surface carved with sharp, angular lines that mirrored the corrupted symbols on the walls.
Kael didn't move, his sharp gaze locking onto the figure as they stepped closer.
"And you are?" he asked, his voice calm.
The figure tilted their head slightly, their masked face catching the faint light of the shadows. "A ghost of the guild you destroyed," they said. "A reminder of what you've left behind."
Kael's lips curled into a faint smile. "I don't believe in ghosts."
The figure chuckled softly, the sound low and melodic. "No, I suppose you don't. But that won't save you from what's coming."
They drew their blade in a single, fluid motion, the steel catching the flickering light as they stepped forward.
Kael's shadow tendrils coiled tighter around him, their cold presence pressing against his skin like a second heartbeat. The ache in his chest flared, sharp and insistent, but he didn't falter.
The figure moved first, their blade slicing through the air in a sharp arc. Kael sidestepped the strike, his dagger flashing as he parried the second blow. The clash of steel echoed through the chamber, the shadows around them writhing in response to the violence.
Kael moved with precision, his body flowing like liquid as he countered the figure's strikes. But his opponent was relentless, their movements sharp and calculated, each strike aimed to kill.
As the battle raged, Kael's breathing grew heavier, the toll of his magic pressing down on him like a vice. The shadows around him lashed out, striking at his opponent with cold, writhing tendrils, but the figure dodged them with ease, their movements fluid and unrelenting.
"You're slowing," the figure said, their voice sharp. "Perhaps the Choir was right about you."
Kael's chest tightened at the words, his grip on his dagger faltering for a brief moment. The figure seized the opportunity, their blade slicing toward his throat.
But Kael moved instinctively, his body twisting as the shadows surged in response. The tendrils coiled around the figure's blade, pulling it off course as Kael struck with his dagger, the blade finding its mark.
The figure staggered, their hand clutching at the wound as they fell to their knees.
Kael straightened, his breathing sharp and uneven as he stepped closer.
"Tell me," he said, his voice low. "What does the Choir want with me?"
The figure's masked face tilted upward, their voice faint but laced with something sharp.
"To finish what they started."
They collapsed, their body limp as the shadows around them receded.
Kael stood still for a moment, his sharp eyes scanning the chamber as his breathing steadied. The whispers in his mind had softened, their tone quieter now but no less insistent.
He turned back toward the shelves, his sharp gaze locking onto the tome he'd left open. The diagram at its center seemed to shimmer faintly in the dim light, its jagged lines threading through his thoughts like a needle through cloth.
Kael's lips curled into a faint smile as he turned toward the exit.
"Then let them try."