Elias's eyes snapped open, his chest heaving as if he had been pulled from a nightmare. The air in the small room felt stifling, heavy with an almost tangible silence. The memory of the man he had seen in the Chamber of Echoes lingered like a shadow, refusing to let go.
That man… his presence had been terrifying, yet there was something hauntingly familiar about him.
Too familiar.
Elias sat up, planting his elbows on his knees and running a hand through his disheveled hair. His muscles were still sore from the previous day's training, each movement a painful reminder of how far he still had to go.
The dim light from the pulsing lines etched into the walls cast faint patterns across the room, the rhythm of their glow matching the steady thrum of his heartbeat.
He clutched the medallion around his neck, running his thumb over the smooth crystal at its center.
"Why did this thing choose me?" he murmured, his voice low and tinged with frustration.
He paced the small room, his thoughts spiraling. The mysterious woman in the Chamber of Echoes had spoken of the man as a former bearer of the medallion—a master of the Lines who had fallen from grace and brought ruin to the world.
But why? And why did he look so much like Elias's father?
Camille and the Weight of Truths
As the first pale light of dawn filtered through the cracks in the stone walls, the door creaked open. Camille strode in without knocking, her usual calm confidence radiating from her every movement. But Elias, ever observant, noticed a subtle tension in her posture.
"Did you sleep well?" she asked, a faint trace of mockery in her tone.
Elias shot her an annoyed look, ruffling his hair.
"No. And it's your fault," he said bluntly.
Camille raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms.
"Oh? I have the honor of being blamed for your sleepless night? You should be thanking me—that's progress."
"Stop joking, Camille," Elias snapped, his tone sharper than usual.
The sudden seriousness in his voice made Camille pause. She studied him for a moment before stepping closer, her expression shifting to one of mild concern.
"What's bothering you?"
Elias hesitated, the words catching in his throat. But after a moment, he decided there was no point in holding back.
"The man I saw in the Chamber of Echoes…" he began, his voice faltering slightly. "He looked like my father."
Camille's expression stiffened, but she didn't avert her gaze.
"Go on," she said quietly.
"I need to know," Elias pressed, his hands curling into fists. "That wasn't my father, was it? So why… why did he look so much like him? What do you know, Camille?"
A heavy silence fell between them. Camille's violet eyes narrowed slightly as she leaned back against the wall, as though debating how much to say. Finally, she let out a slow breath.
"Fine," she said. "You want the truth? I'll tell you. But don't blame me if you're not ready for it."
Elias's jaw tightened, his resolve hardening.
"Try me."
Camille stepped closer, her piercing gaze locking onto his.
"That man wasn't your father," she said. "But their resemblance isn't a coincidence."
Elias's breath caught, his heart hammering in his chest.
"Then… who was he?"
"He was the former bearer of the medallion," Camille explained. "A master of the Lines. He was once hailed as a hero… until he was rejected by the very power he sought to wield."
"Rejected?" Elias echoed, his brows furrowing.
Camille's expression darkened.
"He broke the balance he was sworn to protect. His ambition led him to manipulate the Lines for his own gain, and in doing so, he unleashed a catastrophe that nearly destroyed this world."
The weight of her words hit Elias like a thunderclap.
"But why does he look like my father?" he demanded, his voice rising.
Camille hesitated, her eyes flickering with something Elias couldn't quite place.
"I don't know all the details," she admitted. "But it's likely your father was connected to him in some way. Perhaps as a descendant… or perhaps something more direct."
Elias shook his head, his mind reeling.
"No," he muttered. "That's impossible. My father never spoke about this world, about the Lines, about any of this. And he never had this medallion. I found it—it was mine."
Camille's gaze softened, but her words were unyielding.
"Perhaps your father tried… and failed."
The cold finality of her statement sent a shiver down Elias's spine.
"Failed?" he repeated.
Camille nodded grimly.
"The Lines reject those who are unworthy. If your father attempted to bear the medallion and was rejected… it would've left a mark. A deep one."
An Imminent Threat
Before Elias could respond, a low vibration rumbled beneath their feet.
Camille's head snapped up, her hand instinctively reaching for the curved blade at her side.
"We've got company," she said, her voice tight.
"Again?" Elias groaned, rising to his feet.
The walls of the temple trembled, the glowing lines etched into the stone flickering like dying embers.
The two of them hurried into the central chamber, where an oppressive energy hung heavy in the air.
At the center of the room stood a dark figure, draped in a tattered black cloak that seemed to ripple like smoke. Jagged armor covered their body, and an intricate mask, etched with sinister symbols, concealed their face.
Camille stepped in front of Elias, raising her blade defensively.
"Who are you?" she demanded.
The figure tilted their head slightly, as if studying her, before speaking in a voice that was low and guttural, like the scrape of metal on stone.
"Give me the boy," the figure said. "He does not belong here."
Elias felt a chill crawl down his spine as the figure's gaze pierced through him, crimson eyes glowing faintly behind the mask.
"What… what do you want with me?" he asked, his voice trembling despite himself.
The figure ignored his question, their attention fixed solely on the medallion.
"You bear the Legacy," they said. "But you are unworthy. Surrender it… or face the consequences."
Camille tightened her grip on her blade, her posture shifting into a combat stance.
"If you want him," she said coldly, "you'll have to go through me first."
The Battle of Shadows
The figure didn't respond. Instead, they raised a gauntleted hand, and a wave of dark energy erupted from their palm, slamming into Camille and Elias and sending them both tumbling backward.
Elias, dazed, felt the medallion vibrate violently against his chest. A surge of golden light burst forth from it, forming a protective barrier just in time to block the figure's second attack.
"Elias!" Camille shouted, scrambling to her feet. "Focus! Call the Lines!"
Heart pounding, Elias clutched the medallion tightly. He closed his eyes, reaching for the warmth within. The Lines responded, their energy coursing through his veins like liquid fire.
Glowing patterns etched themselves into the air around him, forming a radiant network of golden threads. Summoning all his will, Elias raised his hand and unleashed a wave of energy toward the intruder.
The battle that followed was fierce. The dark figure moved with inhuman speed, their attacks slicing through the air with deadly precision. But with each strike, Elias grew more confident. The Lines were no longer just a force—he could feel them, guiding his movements and amplifying his strength.
Camille fought alongside him, her blade a blur of motion as she deflected blow after blow.
And yet, as the fight raged on, one thought burned in Elias's mind:
"Who is this man… and why does he want me dead?"
To Be Continued...