The entrance to the Lower Seals did not sit in the open.
It waited.
Buried beneath the foundation of Ashthorne's western tower, hidden behind a wall that appeared perfectly normal—until Artheon pressed his chained hand against the stone.
The chains tightened.
Sigils along the metal lit with pale blue fire.
The wall shuddered…
groaned…
peeled open like stone turning to ash…
Revealing a staircase carved into black marble.
A staircase that descended into darkness.
No torches.
No lanterns.
Just cold air and an ancient whisper that slithered upward like a draft from a tomb.
"…bearer…"
Artheon stepped inside first.
"Stay close," he said softly.
Caelum followed.
The stone sealed behind them.
Cutting off light.
Cutting off sound.
Cutting off escape.
But Caelum didn't slow.
He walked as if he had always belonged here.
The Descent Begins
The staircase spiraled downward for an impossible length.
Every step echoed strangely—two sounds instead of one.
His foot on stone.
And something deeper answering it.
A heartbeat.
Artheon's chains rattled with each step, the runes flickering erratically.
Caelum spoke quietly:
"You're afraid."
Artheon chuckled without humor.
"Of course I am. Fear keeps one alert. Fear keeps one alive."
"You're not afraid of the seals breaking."
"No."
Artheon's footsteps slowed.
"I am afraid," he said, "because something that should not exist is waking up. And it recognizes you."
Caelum didn't respond.
He didn't need to.
The deeper they went, the more Thread-Sense roared inside him.
Threads crossed the walls like veins—some glowing faint-blue, some black, some transparent, some cracked and bleeding energy.
He reached out and touched one.
Instantly he saw—
Flash.
Fire.
A city collapsing into glowing fissures.
Screaming sigil-holders clutching their skulls.
The ground splitting open.
The corpse of a Transcendent falling into a reality-tear.
Chains thrown across its body.
Sigil-masters chanting.
A sealing ritual burning into the earth.
He pulled his hand back.
Artheon watched him carefully.
"You felt it," Artheon said. "The sealing. The Stitching."
"They failed."
"Yes," Artheon whispered. "Otherwise we would not be here."
The stairs ended abruptly.
A massive archway—
twenty feet tall—
carved from obsidian stone—
stood before them.
At its center lay a circular sigil etched with runes older than language.
Living runes.
The lines pulsed with dim light like blood moving beneath skin.
Caelum approached.
The sigil flared violently.
The entire room trembled.
A booming sound echoed beneath the floor—
as if something enormous exhaled.
Artheon's chains tightened so hard that sparks flew.
"Do you hear it, Caelum?" Artheon whispered.
Caelum stepped closer to the seal.
"I don't hear it."
He placed a hand on the obsidian.
"I understand it."
The seal cracked beneath his palm.
Just once.
Like a heartbeat.
The First Chamber of the Sealed Deep
Artheon pressed his chains against the sigil.
Runes flared.
The seal unlocked.
The archway opened with a thunderous groan.
Cold air rushed out—air untouched for centuries.
Caelum stepped inside.
A cavernous chamber stretched before him.
Stone pillars bent unnaturally, twisting like bones warped under pressure.
Fragments of sigils drifted like floating embers.
Reality itself felt thin… bending at the edges.
And at the far end of the chamber—
A massive shape lay draped in darkness.
A corpse?
A relic?
A concept?
It was impossible to define.
A colossal body of threads and bone and something older than matter, sealed in place by enormous metal rings driven into the stone around it.
Each ring held thousands of carved runes.
Each rune flickered.
Each flicker dimmed.
The seals were dying.
Caelum stepped closer.
Artheon grabbed his arm urgently.
"Stop."
Caelum glanced at the instructor's hand.
"Do not touch the first ring," Artheon warned. "Not yet. It will react."
"It already is," Caelum said, voice soft.
Artheon hesitated. "…How do you know?"
Caelum pointed.
Artheon couldn't see it.
But Caelum did.
A thread—
thin, black, razor-sharp—
extended from the corpse in the center of the room…
Straight toward Caelum's chest.
Like a leash.
Like a hand.
Like recognition.
Artheon spoke shakily:
"That's not possible. Only Transcendent-tier entities can—"
He froze as the black thread pulsed.
And the giant corpse moved.
Not much.
Not quickly.
Just one quiet, horrifying twitch of a finger the size of a pillar.
Artheon stumbled back in terror.
Caelum stepped forward.
The black thread twined around his wrist.
"…bearer…"
A whisper filled the chamber.
Louder.
Clearer.
More awake.
"…come…"
Caelum placed a hand on the metal seal ring.
Artheon shouted, "CAELUM, NO—!"
Too late.
The moment Caelum touched the seal—
Reality buckled.
The cavern roared.
Wind howled.
Sigils exploded with light.
The metal rings cracked.
All at once—
Thread Unfold Stage II triggered.
White light burst from Caelum's eyes.
His vision fractured:
Pain threads
Fear threads
Memory threads
Soul threads
Time threads
Corruption threads
Seal threads
World threads
The corpse's threads
His own threads
ALL visible at once.
All vibrating.
All connected.
Artheon shielded his face, snarling:
"Impossible—THIS IS TOO EARLY—WHAT ARE YOU—?!"
Caelum's voice was a whisper.
"Becoming."
The cavern trembled violently.
Rock fell.
Sigils failed.
Chains binding the corpse tightened and cracked.
Artheon staggered back.
"Veylor—we must leave—NOW—"
Caelum didn't move.
Because the corpse's head—
massive
thread-woven
masked in shadow—
lifted—
just slightly.
A single eye of pale thread-light opened.
And Caelum understood:
It wasn't dead.
It had never died.
The seal hadn't contained it.
It had been waiting.
And now?
It had found him.
"…bearer…"
the voice echoed, deeper, clearer, ancient.
"…you have come…"
Artheon bolted toward Caelum, chains flying to restrain him—
—but threads exploded from Caelum's fingertips, cutting through the air like blades.
They didn't attack Artheon.
They pushed him back gently.
A warning.
Artheon froze.
Terrified.
Caelum stared at the creature beneath the academy's deepest seal.
He whispered:
"What do you want from me?"
The answer shook the chamber.
"…to finish…
what we began…"
Then—
The cavern ceiling cracked open.
Dust rained down.
And the corpse exhaled—
a gust of conceptual force that knocked Artheon into a pillar and nearly broke his ribs.
Caelum didn't move.
He only whispered:
"…show me."
And the corpse obeyed.
Threads erupted outward—
engulfing him—
pulling him deeper into the seal—
into the next stage.