Alaric stood before the stone pillar, his breath caught in his throat. The crack at its center spread slowly, like a lightning bolt etched into a dark sky. The closer he stepped, the clearer the voices became—not through his ears, but in his mind.
Whispers without language, yet he understood… or rather, felt the weight of meanings unspoken.
"Alaric," Lir's voice was tense. "You're getting too close."
But it was too late.
The cracks began to glow, blue light leaking from within. The pillar disintegrated—not with an explosion, but as if it simply unraveled into dust. And from within it… emerged a figure.
Not a man. Nor a monster.
The being was tall, draped in tattered robes that blended into the shadows. Its face was hidden beneath a hood, and from its long sleeves, a scaled, bony hand gripped a staff of black stone. Around it, the air twisted with restrained, swirling energy.
Derion drew his sword instantly. "Back."
The figure remained still. Then, from beneath its hood came a voice—deep and echoing, as though from the bottom of the earth.
"Who... has awakened me?"
Alaric held his ground, though his heart pounded. "We didn't mean to disturb you. We were seeking a path—and perhaps… the truth."
Silence followed. Lir hovered near Alaric's shoulder, her gaze locked on the figure.
The being slowly lifted its head. No eyes, only shadow, with two dim lights flickering within. "Truth is not found at the edge of a sword… or in the light."
It pointed its staff at Alaric.
"But you… you carry the key. You've touched a time that should not have been stirred."
Suddenly, a fierce wind blew from the walls of the cavern, carrying strange sounds—screams, chants, and the rush of water flowing in reverse.
Lir gripped Alaric's shoulder. "This place… won't remain still after this."
And before they could react further, the being slowly dissolved into a cloud of dark mist, vanishing into the stone floor.
All that remained was a strange symbol, etched where the pillar once stood, glowing faintly… pulsing as if it had a heartbeat of its own.
---
The symbol kept pulsing, as if it were alive. With every throb, a soft tremor spread across the floor of the cavern. The pale blue light from the carved lines slowly crept toward the walls, forming intricate circular patterns none of them had seen before.
Alaric knelt down, examining the symbol closely. "This isn't just a carving," he murmured. "It feels like... touching a living heartbeat."
Lir nodded slowly. "It's a seal... or maybe a gate. But not an ordinary one. There's an ancient magic guarding it—waiting."
Derion remained alert, eyes scanning, ears sharp. "Will it open? Or release something worse than the creature we just faced?"
Suddenly, the ground beneath the symbol shook violently. The symbol's blue hue darkened into deep violet, and a low clanking echoed through the cave—like chains being dragged from the depths below.
Then, a section of the cavern wall cracked open, forming a stone doorway. A passage sloped steeply downward, disappearing into thick darkness.
"This must be the next path," Alaric said quietly. "Or an ancient trap."
Lir closed her eyes briefly, sensing the energy within the passage. "There's an aura down there... unlike anything we've met before. This is no place for the unworthy."
Derion twirled his sword once, then glanced at Alaric and Lir. "Turning back isn't really an option, is it?"
Alaric gave a faint smile. "Not since we triggered the seal."
One by one, they stepped into the descending corridor. The glow on the walls dimmed behind them, swallowed by a biting cold and creeping shadows.
Their footsteps echoed—a steady rhythm in the silence of the underground. The deeper they went, the more distinct a strange sound became… a haunting chant. Lir drew closer to Alaric and whispered, "That… is not a human voice."
Finally, the corridor opened into a vast underground hall—a forgotten temple lined with towering statues, each in a posture of reverence toward something standing at the center.
An obsidian obelisk rose from the middle of an altar. Around it, six different symbols glowed—red, blue, violet, yellow, green, and white. Each symbol pulsed as if it were breathing.
"This place..." Lir stared in awe, her breath caught in her throat. "...is the source. The heart of the old world's power."
Derion eyed the white symbol beside him. "What is the meaning of all this?"
Alaric gazed at the obelisk—and the crystal he had taken from the monster earlier suddenly flared with brilliant light.
As the crystal's glow touched one of the symbols, the chamber trembled… and the statues began to move.
The statues began to move slowly. Not like living beings, but like something ancient that had long slumbered and was finally awakened. The grinding of stone echoed through the chamber as they turned their heads, raised their arms, and stared toward the center of the altar—where Alaric stood with the crystal now glowing brightly in his palm.
"Don't move," Derion whispered, already poised with his sword drawn. "We don't know if they're enemies or guardians."
Lir hovered low, her wings fluttering gently to stay aloft. Her gaze locked onto the symbols surrounding the obelisk. "I don't think… they're hostile. But they're reacting to the energy from that crystal."
One of the statues stepped forward. Its empty eyes reflected the crystal's light, and slowly, a small glow appeared on its chest—a white symbol identical to one of the circles on the altar.
"The mark of light…" Lir murmured. "They're guardians of the elements. And your crystal… it activated one of them."
Suddenly, a deep voice echoed—not from a mouth, but within their minds.
"You carry the First Light. The trial has begun."
The room trembled softly. The obelisk at the center of the altar lit up fully, with the white symbol glowing brightest among the others. Six statues moved, forming a circle around them.
"A trial?" Alaric turned to Lir. "What kind of trial?"
Lir shook her head, her eyes still fixed on the obelisk. "Perhaps… to judge whether we're worthy of their legacy."
At once, the floor beneath them split apart, revealing a round platform like an arena. Then four illusions emerged—shadows of themselves, but darker, stronger. Alaric faced a hollow-eyed version of himself clad in black armor. Derion looked upon a figure cloaked in a crimson aura. And Lir… faced a version of herself with broken wings and a cold, lifeless stare.
"Shadows… of our own hearts?" Derion whispered.
"Face yourself. Or perish."
The tension in the underground chamber was palpable. Their shadows moved first—not like puppets, but like beings that knew exactly where their weaknesses lay.
Alaric's shadow lunged swiftly, its blade heavy and precise, forcing Alaric to block with all his strength. The clash of steel rang through the air.
Derion spun, searching for an opening in his opponent, who moved just like him—fast, cunning, deadly. Every slash was countered, every step anticipated.
Lir stood still, staring at the broken-winged version of herself. "Are you... the part of me that once wanted to give up?" she whispered.
The shadow gave no reply. It lunged, its wings dripping with dark energy. But Lir dodged with elegance, sweeping the air with a soft glow from her hand.
"The only reason I still fly… is because I once fell," she said softly, then a burst of white light exploded from her body, hurling the shadow backward.
Elsewhere, Alaric was beginning to understand his foe. Each movement was a reflection of the doubts he carried—fear, anger, regret. He began fighting not just with strength, but with calm resolve.
Derion, initially overwhelmed, smirked. "So this is the test, huh?" he said, parrying an attack and striking back. "A trial to make peace with ourselves!"
One by one, their shadows began to crack. White light seeped through the fractures like breaking shells.
Lir closed her eyes and opened her hands. "We are not you… But we once were. And we choose not to return."
In a flash, light erupted from the center of the arena. The shadows shattered into glowing dust, lifting into the air—then absorbed into the altar's obelisk.
The voice returned to their minds.
"Accepted. The First Light has awakened the next path. Continue forward."
The obelisk glowed anew—its white symbol now joined by a golden circle beneath it. The floor shifted slowly, revealing a spiral staircase leading even deeper.
The three of them exchanged glances.
"Looks like we just unlocked the first seal," said Alaric.
"And many more doors await," Derion replied, cleaning his blade.
Lir floated toward the stairs. "Let's keep going… before the darkness catches up."
---
Their steps halted as the dust of battle finally settled. Alaric was still catching his breath, his shoulders rising and falling, the sword now sheathed at his side. Lir floated down and landed softly on the shoulder of a broken wall, her eyes fixed silently on the spiral staircase revealed before them.
"I didn't expect a path like this... hidden beneath roots and stone," Alaric muttered, wiping sweat and a trickle of blood from his temple.
Derion nodded, inspecting a scrape on his arm. "An old path, maybe. But this wasn't made by monsters. Too clean. This is... crafted by hands. Or something that thinks like us."
Lir glanced between the two of them. "You can still turn back, if you want. No one is forcing you to go deeper."
"No," Alaric replied quickly. His gaze returned to the dark stairway spiraling downward. "We've come too far to retreat. And... I have a feeling—whatever lies below, the answers I'm seeking might be waiting there."
Derion exhaled deeply, leaning briefly against the stone wall. "You and your instincts... But I get it. I want to know who built this too. This place… it's too silent to be abandoned."
They stood in silence for a while. The wind seemed to vanish from the forest around them, and the sounds of the world grew still.
Then Lir spoke softly, "This place carries memories older than recollection. If you go down there, don't just bring your weapons. Bring courage... and a calm heart."
Alaric turned to look at the winged creature. He gave a small nod. "Thank you, Lir. I'll remember that."
And with that, they began preparing once more—tending to wounds, adjusting supplies, steadying their breath. Before them, the spiral staircase waited. Dark and deep, like the belly of the world ready to swallow them whole.
Their footsteps echoed softly against the curved stone walls. The light that Lir carried—a small orb of pale blue glow—floated gently ahead, casting shifting shadows along the spiral staircase that seemed to descend endlessly, as if leading them into the forgotten veins of the world.
The surrounding walls were etched with carvings. Strange symbols, resembling an ancient language, flowed like a river across the stone. There were images of a divided sun, winged figures, and a tree-like symbol with its roots turned upward.
"This isn't just some abandoned dwelling," Derion murmured, brushing his hand against the stone. "This place means something. Perhaps a shrine… or a sanctuary."
Lir hovered lower than usual, his wings subdued. "I don't like the echo here. It's like… something's whispering, but I can't make out the words."
Alaric paused, listening. There was something—though not a sound, exactly. More like a pressure in his mind, cold and damp, as though someone else's thoughts brushed against his own.
Finally, the staircase opened into a narrow corridor that led to a vast chamber. In its center stood a towering pillar, faintly glowing blue at its peak. Around it lay broken altars and stone statues in cloaks, their faces worn away or intentionally erased.
They stepped in cautiously. Each step felt heavier, as if unseen eyes followed their every move.
"Do you feel like… this room is still alive?" Derion asked quietly.
Lir nodded. "It's not just old. It's waiting for something."
Alaric approached the pillar. There, a circle with six branching arms was carved—like a clock with no numbers. At the center of the circle was a small hollow, as if something was meant to be placed within.
"Too precise to be coincidence," he whispered.
He turned to Lir. "Do you think it's some sort of mechanism?"
"Possibly. But it won't activate without the right key," Lir answered, studying the carving with a frown.
Derion picked up a shard of crystal lying near the floor—unlike the monster cores they'd gathered before. It was paler, but glowed gently to his touch.
"This… looks like it came from something larger. Maybe… it's part of the key?"
Before anyone could answer, the air shifted. A cold breeze seeped from a crack in the wall, and the statues surrounding them began to tremble—ever so slightly.
Something had awakened.