Kael's hands were still shaking as he rose to his feet. The vision had felt too real, too vivid to be just an illusion. The battlefield, the war, the cloaked figure—it was as if he had lived through it himself.
Rion steadied him. "You're pale. What did you see?"
Kael swallowed hard. "A war… not one from our time. It felt ancient, like something that happened long before the Dominion." His eyes flickered toward the altar. "And that thing—whatever it is—it's connected to it."
Maren tightened her grip on her sword. "Then we destroy it before it destroys us."
But Kael shook his head. "No. This isn't just a relic. It's something alive."
The air thickened around them, and before anyone could react, the glowing carvings along the altar pulsed violently. A deep, guttural voice echoed through the chamber.
"You are unworthy."
A shockwave blasted outward.
Kael barely had time to throw up his arms before he was lifted off his feet and hurled across the room. He crashed into a pillar, pain flaring across his spine. Maren and Rion were tossed aside like ragdolls, their weapons clattering against the stone floor.
Dust swirled around them as a dark, shifting mass began to rise from the altar.
A figure emerged—its form humanoid, but its body made of swirling black mist, its eyes burning like dying stars.
"You seek power, but power has a cost."
Kael gritted his teeth. His shard flared, reacting to the entity's presence.
"Who are you?" he demanded.
The figure's head tilted. "I am the Keeper. The last guardian of the Forgotten Depths. And you—"
Its eyes locked onto Kael.
"You bear the Mark of the Cycle."
Kael's pulse quickened. The Mark of the Cycle? He had never heard those words before.
Rion pushed himself up, coughing. "What does that mean?"
The Keeper ignored him. It moved toward Kael, its steps soundless.
"You have seen the echoes of the past. The war. The destruction. The betrayal." Its voice lowered, almost a whisper. "But have you seen the end?"
The moment it spoke, Kael felt the shard inside him burn.
His vision twisted. He was no longer in the chamber.
Instead, he stood in a ruined city, its towers crumbling, its streets littered with the bodies of thousands. The sky was blackened, swirling with storm clouds and crimson lightning.
And in the distance—
A figure stood alone at the heart of the destruction.
Kael's breath caught in his throat.
It was him.
Older. Worn. Blood dripping from his fingers, his clothes tattered and stained with battle. His eyes were hollow, distant—empty.
At his feet lay a broken sword.
And before him, kneeling, was—
Kael gasped, the vision snapping away as pain tore through his mind.
He staggered backward, his breath ragged.
The Keeper watched him in silence.
"You will break the cycle," it said. "Or you will become it."
Kael's heart pounded in his chest. "What does that mean?!"
The Keeper didn't answer. Instead, it lunged.
Kael barely dodged as the entity's clawed hand sliced through the air, carving deep gouges into the stone where he had just stood.
Maren and Rion sprang into action.
Rion threw a dagger, but it passed through the Keeper like smoke. "Damn it!"
Maren charged, swinging her blade in a precise arc. But the moment it struck the Keeper's form, the weapon was wrenched from her grip and sent spinning across the chamber.
The Keeper raised its arm, dark tendrils snaking toward Kael.
Move!
Kael rolled aside, his instincts screaming. His shard pulsed wildly, reacting to the entity's power.
If his weapons wouldn't work—then maybe his shard would.
Clenching his fist, Kael forced the shard's energy outward. Fire erupted from his palm, searing toward the Keeper. The flames struck its body, causing it to recoil with an unearthly shriek.
For the first time, it hesitated.
Kael's eyes widened. "It felt that."
Maren seized the opportunity. She dashed forward, grabbing her fallen sword. "Keep it off balance!"
Rion followed, his own shard glowing faintly as he threw another dagger—this one crackling with energy. It struck the Keeper's form, causing it to writhe in agony.
Kael didn't waste time. He concentrated, pushing more power into his flames. His body protested—his energy reserves were low, and the shard inside him wasn't stable.
But he had no choice.
He gathered everything he had—
And released it.
A torrent of fire exploded outward, consuming the Keeper in a blaze of crimson light.
The entity let out a final, piercing wail before its form shattered, dissolving into the very air.
The chamber trembled, the blue carvings flickering—then fading.
Silence followed.
Kael stood there, breathing hard, his hands shaking from exhaustion. His body felt drained, like the shard had pulled more from him than he could handle.
Maren and Rion approached cautiously.
Rion stared at the spot where the Keeper had vanished. "What the hell was that?"
Maren frowned. "It said Kael bore the Mark of the Cycle." She turned to him. "What did it mean by that?"
Kael clenched his jaw. He wasn't sure. But the visions—the war, the destruction, the future version of himself—they weren't just hallucinations.
They were warnings.
"We need to leave," he said finally. "Now."
Maren hesitated but nodded. "Agreed. Whatever this place is, it's not safe."
They turned toward the exit—the only visible path leading deeper into the underground.
As they walked, Kael couldn't shake the words the Keeper had left him with.
"You will break the cycle… or you will become it."
What cycle? What end had it shown him?
And more importantly—
Was it already too late to stop it?