As Zay continued deeper through the pre-existing pathway, the cave began to widen slightly, granting him a bit more room to breathe and walk comfortably. The walls curved ahead, rough and damp, and as he turned the bend, a faint scent caught his attention—burning wood. His brows furrowed, and he tilted his head slightly.
'What the? Where the hell is this smell coming from?'
His thoughts barely settled before he spotted it—a wooden door, aged and uneven, standing out awkwardly in the cave's otherwise natural formation.
Zay glanced down at his gloved left hand, fingers twitching slightly, before stepping closer and reaching out. He knocked softly, the sound dull against the aged wood.
The door creaked open on its own. Dirt shifted at the base as if the bottom of the door had been partially buried into the cave floor itself.
He stepped past the threshold, eyes scanning every direction, his right hand finally lifting from his chest. He swallowed hard, tension coiled inside him—expecting someone, something, anything at all to lunge at him from the shadows.
His footsteps were slow and measured. Through a narrow crack in a distant door, he caught a glint—a brief flash of light bouncing off something behind it. The door itself looked rusted, like old steel corroded by time, though he couldn't say for sure.
His hands clenched into fists. A thin layer of violet aura coated his body in response.
Zay's pace slowed again as he passed through what looked like a small campsite—one that made no sense being here. There was a tent. From Earth.
'What the hell? How is that here?'
He tried to shake the thought away, pushing his focus back onto his surroundings. A fishing rod leaned against the wall, near a weathered wooden rocking chair. Large sandals sat nearby, alongside worn leather couches, all resting atop what looked like planks of red wood nailed down over the dirt.
He stepped onto the wood carefully. It creaked, but held his weight. His other foot followed, steadily. From behind the door he entered, a soft light flickered—drawing his attention again. His guard shot higher.
An ambush? A trap? A pond monster lurking nearby? There was a fishing rod, after all... but no water in sight. Still.
'Just because there's no water doesn't mean a four-headed sea beast can't emerge from a bottle...'
He sighed through his nose. 'I should make my way toward that glinting light... I think that's the best move I can make. Could be a weapon of some kind.'
With purpose in each step, he moved past the tent, the rocking chair, the sandals, and the couches, until he stood in front of the rusted steel door.
He paused. Glanced over his shoulder and exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His fingers curled around the handle.
He opened the door to find a vast chamber—and saw something that resembled a man stood motionless. Zay's eyes swept across the room. Towering pillars lined the walls, each one cracked with age yet still standing tall. Faded flags hung between them, their fabric stiff and brittle, etched with symbols and faces—perhaps rulers, or figures of importance, though he couldn't be sure.
The chamber itself was massive—so large it felt as though nineteen or more throne rooms had been merged into one, stretched to impossible proportions. The air was dense, cold, and thick with silence.
His gaze dropped to a long, dirty red rug that unfurled down the center like a blood trail, leading directly to the figure. He squinted, trying to make out a throne or even a raised platform behind it, but the darkness beyond swallowed the details. The room extended farther than his eyes could register—like it had no true end.
Zay took a step forward, and the figure turned to face him.
It looked human, or at least it had the shape of one, but its body was formed entirely from black mist. In its left hand, it held a long sword, and in its right, a small dagger. Both weapons forged from a material Zay couldn't identify from the distance.
The figure emitted no aura. Nothing. It didn't even register as a threat—if anything, it felt... harmless.
Still, Zay took a few more cautious steps forward, every sense sharpened to its peak as he kept his eyes locked on the mist-born being.
Smoke began to swirl into the room, soft tendrils snaking upward before erupting into tiny, dim orbs of light that hovered in place. They barely illuminated anything.
'I guess it's better than nothing, though.'
Zay stepped forward again—and the figure moved.
It glided closer, smooth and silent, and as it did, the sword and dagger in its hands began to pulse with a dark crimson glow. Then, from the shadowy mist of its face, two eyes formed.
They were small—irises of amethyst encircled by pure white.
A mist-formed entity, cloaked in darkness, eyes glowing white and violet, and in each hand... a weapon bathed in crimson light.
[Forsaken by Dawn has drawn the attention of a ????? ????????]
The mist-born creature stepped off the red carpet, and the dagger in its right hand dissolved into vapor. The longsword lowered until its tip rested gently against the stone floor. Both of its mist-formed hands settled on the pommel, and it stood still—silent, unmoving, watching Zay with an unreadable patience.
Zay inched forward, every muscle tight, his senses sharp as blades. He didn't take his eyes off the figure until he had to. Even then, he kept glancing over his shoulder, expecting it to lunge at him the moment he turned his back.
'Forsaken by Dawn... what exactly is this Resonance Name?' Zay thought, trying once again to view its description—only to be met with the same error he'd seen every other time he'd tried.
[Error. Attempting to access information about a Resonance Name that the Arbiter will die from reading due to the strength difference. Attempt failed. Information will not become visible to the Arbiter.]
Zay continued down the red carpet, the vast chamber stretching endlessly ahead, shadows flickering from the faint, dim orbs of lights suspended in the air. Every step echoed, swallowed quickly by the oppressive stillness. The mist that clung low to the ground began to shift unnaturally, swirling in front of Zay.
Then, it rose.
[Forsaken by Dawn has drawn the attention of a ????????]
White mist surged upward in a spiral, and from it, a creature began to form—massive, elegant, and silent. It had the shape of a lion, but its entire body was composed of glowing white mist, constantly shifting and flowing like smoke in a windless room. Its mane curled with elegance, trailing off into floating strands of haze, and its claws left no marks on the ground.
The beast took a single step forward, silent, graceful—then another. No growl. No warning. Just its haunting gaze locked onto him like it had always known him.
A pressure fell upon Zay's chest, like the air itself was watching.
His hand twitched near his side, violet aura beginning to crackle over his gloves, coating his form in that thin protective layer again. His gloves shimmered faintly, but the creature didn't react.
Instead, it opened its mouth—not to roar, but to breathe.
A wave of cold mist burst out, flowing past Zay and carrying with it a haunting echo of voices.
"Why did you leave us again?"
"You swore you'd stay."
"Always running... always failing... stop running and stop BEING SO DAMN WEAK!"
Zay's jaw clenched, heart thudding as memories flashed—of past mentors who taught him, of children he swore to protect and failed to, of blood and ash, war and loss.
He stepped back instinctively, but the beast leapt forward.
Fast.
Too fast.
It came not with brute force—but with precision, like it knew exactly how Zay fought.
Zay struck forward with his fists, the violet shimmer of his aura flaring around his fists—but his strike passed through the creature's shoulder like punching through fog. No impact. No feedback. Just mist, swirling where solid mass should've been.
The Beast didn't even flinch. It inhaled again—and released another wave of cold, spectral mist.
Zay's eyes widened as the chamber around him flickered. The sounds of the present warped into echoes of a memory.
Renzo's voice.
"I'm sorry... but this is the only way."
The image of his brother, standing behind guards, glass shattering as Zay fled—flashed through his mind.
Then another—one buried far deeper.
A woman in a silver veil, standing beneath a silver tree. Her hands folded calmly, a soft smile hidden beneath sheer silk.
Behind her… a man in white. Sword drawn. Silent.
Zay reached out in the memory.
"NO—!"
The blade pierced clean through her back. Blood bloomed like a red flower across the veil. She never turned. She never saw it coming.
The man in white vanished before the veil hit the ground.
Zay's chest twisted with a pain sharper than any wound.
He staggered back in the present, snapping out of it just in time to see the beast lunging. Its paw—massive, clawed, divine in its beauty—descended like judgment.
Zay rolled to the side, his back skidding along the stone just as the claws came down. The red carpet evaporated beneath the strike, torn to white mist in an instant. Even the stone floor beneath cracked and disintegrated, reduced to pale dust.
The beast let out a roar—not savage, but graceful, like a requiem echoing through a sacred hall.
It began circling Zay slowly, each pawstep silent but purposeful. Its eyes never left him, white smoke drifting from its mouth as it moved.