The air shifted the moment Aeryn and the others stepped beyond the Chamber of Pale Echoes. The tunnel that opened ahead was not a simple passage but a downward spiral carved from smooth stone that bore no tool marks. It curved endlessly into the darkness, lit only by faint pulses of light embedded in the walls—slow, rhythmic, like the heartbeat of a slumbering titan.
Aeryn conjured a soft orb of etherlight, letting it float above his palm. Its glow amplified the runic pulses rather than overwhelming them. Lysa moved beside him, bow at the ready, eyes sharp. Caldrin stayed behind them, his presence steady but tense, occasionally glancing over his shoulder as if expecting more of the twisted beasts to crawl into sight.
Aeryn felt the shard embedded in his chest vibrate faintly. Not painful, but insistent, as if urging him deeper.
"The air is different here," Lysa whispered. "Thicker. Like being underwater."
Caldrin snorted softly. "Feels more like being watched by the stone itself."
Aeryn nodded. "This path wasn't made for ordinary travelers. Whoever built this place designed it to survive eras."
He pressed a hand against the wall. The stone was warm.
That wasn't natural.
Lysa touched the wall as well. "It's humming."
"Not humming," Aeryn corrected. "Resonating."
Caldrin raised a brow. "With what?"
Aeryn exhaled slowly. "Us."
They continued descending, the tunnel twisting like the inside of a great serpent. Several minutes passed, or perhaps longer—it was impossible to track time here. The deeper they went, the more the runes along the walls changed. They shifted from simple geometric designs to more intricate, abstract forms, resembling spirals, branching constellations, and fractured mirrors.
At one point, Lysa paused. "Aeryn… these runes… They're the same style as the ones in the chamber above."
He examined them closely. Yes—similar patterns, but not identical. These were older. Far older.
Aeryn ran his fingers over one symbol, shaped like a broken circle. "These weren't carved. They were shaped by magic directly into the stone."
"How can you tell?" Caldrin asked.
Aeryn tilted his head. "Because they respond to energy."
He released a faint stream of Ether, letting it brush against the symbol. The rune darkened momentarily, then split into two glowing lines before reforming.
Caldrin swore under his breath. "That's not natural."
"No," Aeryn replied quietly. "It isn't."
The shard pulsed again. Stronger.
Almost like it recognized something.
They kept moving until the tunnel abruptly ended—not in a door, but in a threshold of shattered stone. Beyond it lay a massive cavern. So large that even Aeryn's heightened senses struggled to gauge its true size.
The ceiling vanished into shadows. The ground was uneven, layered with slabs of broken marble and fragments of fallen structures. Ruined columns jutted from the earth at odd angles. A faint blue mist blanketed the ground like a thin veil.
Lysa inhaled sharply. "This isn't just a cavern. This used to be a hall."
Caldrin whistled. "A hall big enough to fit a castle."
Aeryn moved forward, studying the scattered debris. Broken pedestals. Cracked stone plates bearing runes. Torn flags turned to dust. And pieces of armor—pale silver, etched with a sigil he didn't recognize.
No bodies.
No bones.
Only remnants of a forgotten age.
The deeper they walked into the cavern, the thicker the blue mist became. It swirled around their legs but never rose higher. Aeryn strained his mana sense, attempting to feel for threats.
But the mist felt… empty. Hollow.
"It's not poisonous," Lysa murmured, crouching to run her fingers through it. "It's cold, but it doesn't react to touch."
Caldrin prodded it with his weapon. "Feels like walking through fog."
Aeryn knelt, letting Ether pool in his palm before releasing it into the mist. The reaction was immediate.
The mist swirled away from the Ether, recoiling like a living thing.
Lysa's eyes narrowed. "So it's reacting to magic."
"Yes," Aeryn said. "Not aggressively. More like instinct."
"Instinct," Caldrin echoed. "Fog with instincts. Wonderful."
Aeryn stood. "Let's stay alert. Something here survived the collapse."
They passed under what remained of an archway. Half-fallen, half-consumed by time, its carvings were still visible—depicting tall beings with elongated limbs and soft, luminescent eyes. Their shapes resembled elves, but subtly wrong. Too thin. Too tall. Too ethereal.
"Ancient elves?" Lysa whispered.
"No," Aeryn said quietly. "Something else. Something older."
Caldrin glanced at him. "Your shard giving you memories again?"
Aeryn hesitated. "Not memories. More like impressions."
He turned away from the arch and walked deeper until the cavern floor suddenly sloped downward, revealing a massive circular platform. The structure was cracked but still intact, hovering slightly above the ground. A thin gap of shimmering Ether separated it from the earth below.
Caldrin blinked. "It's… floating."
"It was designed to," Aeryn said, stepping cautiously onto it. The platform didn't move, but faint runes ignited at the edges—forming a spiral of pale blue light.
"Is this another seal?" Lysa asked.
"A different kind," Aeryn said. "One meant to reveal, not contain."
The shard in his chest throbbed harder.
A glyph flickered into view at the center of the platform—a pattern of interlocking triangles, circles, and a single line running through them like a fracture.
Aeryn recognized that symbol.
It was the same as the fragment embedded within him.
Lysa saw his expression shift. "Aeryn…"
"This platform is reacting to me."
Before they could step back, the entire cavern began to tremble. Dust rained from the ceiling. The mist churned violently, spiraling inward toward the floating platform.
Caldrin shouted, "Aeryn—"
But it was too late.
The runes lit up. The mist condensed rapidly, concentrating into a swirling vortex around Aeryn. The platform shook, arcs of Ether sparking around him like lightning.
Lysa aimed her bow, trying to shoot at the mist, but her arrows passed harmlessly through.
"Aeryn!" she screamed.
Aeryn could barely hear her. The world around him warped, echoes folding into one another. The cavern blurred.
Then the vortex collapsed inward—straight into his chest.
The impact was silent yet overwhelming.
Aeryn staggered, clutching his chest as a wave of memories—foreign, incomplete, and fragmented—flooded his mind.
He saw once more the tall beings from the archway, but now in motion. Speaking. Chanting. Weaving runes through the air. Preparing something—some ritual involving mirrored constructs and star-forged stones.
Then… something went wrong.
The mirror shattered. Light spilled outward. A scream tore through the hall.
The memory fragmented.
Aeryn fell to one knee, gasping.
Lysa rushed forward now that the vortex had vanished. She grabbed him, shaking his shoulders. "Aeryn! Talk to me!"
Caldrin knelt beside them. "What in the abyss was that?!"
Aeryn closed his eyes and steadied his breathing before speaking. "The platform wasn't an attack. It was… unlocking the shard."
Lysa tensed. "Unlocking what?"
A pale glow seeped from Aeryn's chest, faint but distinct.
"The next layer of its memory," he said quietly. "And a location."
"Location?" Caldrin repeated. "What location?"
Aeryn pointed north, beyond the cavern's furthest shadows. "There's another shard. Far from here. In the mountains beyond the frost valleys."
Lysa frowned. "How can you be sure?"
"Because the shard inside me is resonating with something in that direction."
Caldrin sighed heavily. "Then I suppose that's where we're headed next."
Aeryn shook his head. "Not yet."
Both turned to him.
"There's still something in this cavern. The memory wasn't complete. Something is missing."
Caldrin groaned. "Of course something's missing."
Aeryn rose slowly. "The platform wasn't just showing me the past. It was signaling something. Someone."
The cavern trembled again—but this time, it wasn't from ancient mechanisms.
It was footsteps.
Massive, heavy footsteps echoing from deep within the darkness.
Lysa drew her bow. Caldrin held his blade ready.
Aeryn stared into the void ahead.
A shape emerged—tall, hulking, covered in armor that looked grown rather than forged. Pale runes flowed across its surface like veins. Its head bore no face, only a smooth mask of stone. In its hand—if it could be called a hand—it held a long weapon resembling a halberd made of hardened Ether.
The creature stopped several meters from the platform and tilted its head, as if studying them.
Lysa whispered, "What… is that?"
Caldrin growled, "Looks like a guardian."
Aeryn stepped forward, eyes narrowing. He felt no malice from the being. No killing intent. Only a lingering duty.
He raised his hand slightly. "We didn't come to desecrate this place. We're seeking answers."
The guardian remained still.
Aeryn continued, "If you can understand me… I'm following the remnants of your people."
Lysa's breath caught. "Aeryn—"
But the guardian reacted.
Its runes flickered. The halberd lowered. A deep, resonant hum filled the cavern.
Then the creature slowly knelt.
Caldrin's jaw dropped. "It understands you?!"
No. Not understand.
Recognize.
The guardian extended its free hand toward Aeryn. The shard pulsed in response.
A voice rang in Aeryn's mind—not words, but intention.
A key.
A successor.
A warning.
Aeryn stepped forward, placing his hand upon the guardian's rune-covered wrist.
The guardian rose slowly, its massive form towering above him. Then, with deliberate movement, it turned and pointed toward a collapsed doorway at the cavern's far wall.
Behind it, something faint glowed—a small pale sphere half-buried in rubble.
Another shard.
Aeryn's breath tightened. "So that's why we were brought here."
Lysa steadied her breath. "The guardian was protecting it."
Caldrin scratched his head. "Then what happens when you grab it?"
Aeryn stared at the distant glow. "Whatever memory lies within it… we'll face it."
The guardian stepped aside, granting passage.
Aeryn walked forward, heart steady but mind bracing. Lysa and Caldrin followed close behind.
The journey's next fragment awaited.
And he could feel—deep within the shard inside him—that the memories to come would not just reveal the past.
They would challenge everything he thought he understood about himself.