The walls of the chamber trembled, dust cascading from the ceiling as the ground beneath them groaned. The rune, drawn in blood, pulsed with an eerie glow before fading into the stone.
Seraphine's pulse hammered. They had broken something.
Caius tightened his grip on his sword, scanning the chamber. "Tell me this place isn't about to collapse."
Seraphine shook her head, even though she wasn't sure. It wasn't the structure that was failing—it was the magic.
Whatever seal had once held back the darkness in this place had been weakened—and now, something stirred beneath their feet.
Another tremor rippled through the floor, stronger this time. Seraphine stumbled, but Caius caught her, pulling her toward the archway.
"We need to move. Now."
She didn't argue. They sprinted out of the chamber, moving through the winding corridors of the keep. The further they went, the colder the air became, thick with something unnatural.
And then—
A whisper.
Not spoken aloud, but in their minds.
"You cannot run from us."
Seraphine clenched her teeth. She could feel it now—a presence slithering through the stones, watching them through the darkness.
This keep was no longer just old ruins.
It was alive.
And it did not want them to leave.
---
The Hall of Names
They emerged into a vast, crumbling hall. Massive stone pillars lined the sides, etched with names in a language Seraphine barely recognized. Some were carved deeply, others scratched out, as if someone had tried to erase them.
Her breath caught.
She knew what this place was.
The Hall of the Forsaken.
A burial place—not for bodies, but for names.
The names of those erased from history.
Caius was already moving ahead, scanning the walls. "This doesn't feel like an exit."
Seraphine's eyes landed on a name near the center. Unlike the others, it was not scratched out.
It was fresh.
Vael'thiran.
The moment her gaze landed on it, the temperature plummeted.
A sharp crack echoed through the chamber as the stone beneath the name split open.
Then—
A hand emerged from the fissure.
---
The Awakening
Seraphine's breath caught. The hand—if it could be called that—was not made of flesh. It was bone and shadow, fingers too long, joints bending the wrong way.
Then a second hand grasped the edge, pulling the figure upward.
Caius swore under his breath, stepping in front of Seraphine, blade at the ready. "I hate this place."
The thing rose.
At first, it was just a silhouette, but as it pulled itself free from the broken stone, its form solidified.
A tall figure, draped in what might have once been robes, now tattered and moving like living smoke. Its face was shrouded in darkness, but two piercing white eyes burned through the void.
The chamber seemed to breathe as the figure stepped forward, tilting its head.
Then it spoke.
"You bear the mark."
Seraphine's blood ran cold.
Caius tightened his grip on his sword. "She bears nothing of yours."
The figure laughed.
The sound was wrong—too many voices speaking at once, some whispering, some screaming.
"You do not know what she is."
Seraphine swallowed hard. "And what am I?"
The figure's gaze burned into her.
"The last mistake."
The words sent an icy shock through her veins.
Caius moved first. With a sharp motion, he lunged. His sword cut through the air—
And passed through nothing.
The figure did not flinch.
Instead, it raised a hand—
And Caius was thrown back, crashing against one of the stone pillars.
Seraphine's scream barely left her lips before the figure turned back to her.
"It is time you remembered."
The shadows surged—
And then everything vanished.
---
The Forgotten Vision
Seraphine stood in a place that was not real.
A city burned around her.
Not like before—not Oraveth's fall.
This was something older.
Towers crumbled in the distance, the sky split open with dark fire. Screams echoed through the streets, but the people…
There were no people.
Only shadows.
Figures with no faces, whispering her name.
Then she saw her.
The woman at the center of it all.
Not her mother.
Herself.
Standing in the center of the ruined city, wearing robes of black and silver, a crown of obsidian upon her brow.
And at her feet—
A broken seal.
Her own voice, distant yet unmistakable, whispered through the air:
"I am sorry."
Seraphine gasped.
The world lurched—
And she was ripped back.
---
The Truth in the Dark
She collapsed onto the stone floor of the Hall of Names, gasping for breath. The air was thick, suffocating.
Caius was at her side immediately, his hands gripping her arms. "Seraphine—"
She looked up at him, eyes wide. "I've—" She swallowed, her throat dry. "I've seen this before."
Caius frowned. "What?"
She turned toward the figure. It was watching her, silent now.
Seraphine's voice trembled.
"This isn't the first time the Seal has been broken."
Caius tensed.
She slowly looked down at her hands. The memory was still burning through her mind.
It had been her.
She had been there—when it all fell apart.
And now, history was repeating.
Caius exhaled, his voice tight. "Then tell me, Seraphine—"
He looked back at the figure, his gaze dark.
"How do we stop it this time?"
The figure smiled.
"You don't."