The underground corridors stretched ahead in winding paths, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows along damp stone. The air was thick, carrying the scent of aged earth and something older—something unspoken.
Raine walked in silence, his footsteps muffled against the uneven ground. He didn't trust the man leading him deeper into the tunnels. But trust wasn't an option.
Survival was.
They had left Vaelora hours ago, slipping into the underground network without a word to anyone. The Weaving Society—whatever it truly was—operated from here, beneath the streets, out of reach of the Arcanum's watchful eyes.
Raine had seen glimpses of their influence: whispered names in the back alleys, silent movements in the shadows, the way even bounty hunters hesitated when this man appeared.
Kael.
That was the name the stranger had finally given him before leading him into the depths.
Raine exhaled, gripping his forearm where bruises still lingered from his last fight. He didn't know what Kael wanted from him—only that this man had saved his life twice now.
And that made him even harder to trust.
The passage widened into a cavernous chamber, its ceiling so high the torchlight barely reached the top. Stone walkways split off into twisting tunnels, some vanishing into the unknown. The walls bore strange carvings—faded with age, their meanings long lost.
Kael stopped near a worn wooden table, motioning for Raine to do the same.
"This is where you ask the obvious question," Kael murmured.
Raine studied him warily. "Which one?"
Kael's lips twitched, just slightly. "Why I brought you here."
Raine crossed his arms. "I figured you'd tell me when you felt like it."
Kael exhaled through his nose, something like approval flickering in his dark eyes. He reached into his coat and pulled something free, tossing it onto the table. The small metal insignia clattered against the wood.
Raine stared at it.
The same emblem Kael had shown him before—a hollow ring, encased in thin, intricate etchings.
"Is this supposed to mean something?" Raine asked.
Kael didn't answer immediately. Instead, he traced a finger over the emblem's surface, his expression unreadable. "This was worn by someone like you."
Raine stiffened. Like me?
"Abyss-Touched."
The words fell quiet, but they settled into Raine's chest like stone.
The bounty hunter had called him that in the forest. Now Kael was saying it again—as if it explained everything.
But it didn't.
Raine clenched his jaw. "And what does that actually mean?"
Kael studied him for a long moment. Measuring. Calculating. Then he spoke.
"You don't draw from the Realms like Weavers do. Your power doesn't follow the Arcanum's laws. It doesn't fit."
Raine's pulse quickened.
Kael leaned against the table, his voice dropping lower.
"And when something doesn't fit, the Arcanum removes it."
Raine looked away, his thoughts spinning. He had known the Arcanum was hunting him—that much was obvious. But hearing it framed like this—as if he were an error in their design, something to be corrected—made his stomach twist.
Kael continued, "Every few generations, someone like you appears. Someone who disrupts." His gaze darkened. "And every time, the Arcanum ensures they never make it far enough to understand why."
Raine swallowed, forcing down the unease creeping up his spine. "Then why are you different? Why did you help me?"
Kael's expression remained unreadable. "Because I've seen what happens when no one does."
Silence stretched between them.
Raine exhaled slowly. He wanted to ask more—how many had there been before him? What had happened to them? But he knew Kael wouldn't give him all the answers at once.
Instead, he looked at the insignia again, running a thumb over its worn, cold surface.
"So, what now?" Raine asked. "I just disappear underground and join your hidden society?"
Kael smirked faintly. "That depends."
"On what?"
Kael pushed off the table and turned toward one of the branching tunnels. His posture shifted. Less idle, more purposeful.
"On whether you survive."
Raine narrowed his eyes. "Survive what?"
Kael strode toward the tunnel. "Come with me."
Raine hesitated, then followed.
The next chamber was smaller, more enclosed. The walls were bare this time—no carvings, no sigils. Just rows of old bookshelves and a single, circular pit in the center of the floor.
Kael stopped at the edge of the pit.
"Jump."
Raine blinked. "What?"
Kael crossed his arms. "You want to understand what you are? What makes you different?" He motioned toward the pit. "Then you start by facing it."
Raine peered over the edge.
The darkness below was complete.
The torchlight above barely touched it—as if the very air bent away, refusing to illuminate what lay beneath.
Something about it felt… wrong.
Like the space itself wasn't empty, but waiting.
Raine swallowed. "What's down there?"
Kael didn't answer.
Of course he didn't.
Raine exhaled sharply, his fingers curling into fists.
He could walk away.
He could turn back, leave Kael and the Weaving Society behind.
But if he did—what then?
The Arcanum would still be hunting him.
And he would still have no answers.
Raine clenched his jaw.
Then, before he could change his mind—
He stepped forward.
And fell.
The darkness swallowed him whole.