Morning—if it could even be called "morning" in an underground world with no sun—arrived as a soft ripple of blue light drifting through the crystalline cavern ceiling. The mana stream pulsed in gentle intervals, brightening and dimming like a heartbeat.
Aeryn awoke first.
The air was cool, almost too still, and for a moment he wondered if it was the quiet before another storm. But when he listened closer, he heard faint signs of life—Serin's slow breathing beside him and the soft shuffle of Eryndor preparing their supplies.
Today was the day they reached the ancient ruin.
Aeryn sat up carefully. Serin had fallen asleep leaning against him again, though this time she'd dropped her staff halfway out of her hand as if she'd been waiting for him to move.
Eryndor looked over from the far side of the cavern.
"You rested?"
"As much as I could," Aeryn replied.
Eryndor nodded once. "Good. You'll need a clear mind."
Aeryn stretched, pulled on his boots, and gently nudged Serin.
"Hey. Wake up."
Serin made a small noise that was somewhere between a groan and a sleepy complaint. Then she opened her eyes and immediately flushed bright red.
"I— I didn't mean to fall asleep on you again!"
Aeryn smirked. "Relax. It wasn't a problem."
She puffed her cheeks like she wanted to argue but decided against it.
They ate quickly, packed faster, and began moving.
The path ahead was a narrow stone bridge hanging over a seemingly bottomless chasm. The air grew colder the further they walked, and the glowing crystals changed from soft blue to pale silver—like moonlight frozen in stone.
Serin walked closer to Aeryn than usual.
Eryndor's gaze scanned everything, every corner, every curve of the cavern walls.
"We're getting close," he said quietly.
"How close?" Aeryn asked.
Eryndor pointed ahead.
"To that."
---
The Ruins Beneath the World
The bridge ended at a massive stone archway half-buried in the cavern wall. Ancient runes spiraled around it—glowing faintly, flickering as though awakening after centuries of sleep.
Aeryn felt a strange pull in his chest.
"The same symbols from the vision," he murmured.
Serin stepped forward with a cautious frown.
"The architecture… It's definitely elven. But older than anything I've studied. Older than any kingdom recorded today."
Eryndor reached out to brush a rune with his fingertips—but stopped just before touching.
"Only one person should approach," he said.
Aeryn understood.
"You think this door responds to me."
"It hasn't fully awakened until now," Eryndor said. "And last time something reacted to you, the mana nearly tore apart your body."
Serin stiffened at the memory.
Aeryn took a slow breath.
"I'll be careful."
He stepped toward the archway.
The runes brightened instantly, as if sensing his presence. Light crawled across the stone in spirals, converging on the center where a circular slab blocked the passage.
Aeryn reached out.
Serin whispered sharply, "Aeryn—!"
His fingers touched the surface.
The world rippled.
A shockwave of light burst outward—but this time, it didn't hurt. It didn't overwhelm. It spread gently, wrapping around his arm and climbing up his body like vines made of light.
Serin didn't dare breathe.
Eryndor lowered his stance, ready to pull Aeryn away if something went wrong.
But the glow only intensified.
Then—
"Seeker recognized."
A voice echoed inside Aeryn's mind.
Not the corrupted entity. Not the monstrous whisper that once tried to control him.
This voice was cold. Ancient. Mechanical. Like the remnant of a spell that had waited centuries to deliver a single message.
"Bloodline anomaly. Mana signature… incomplete."
Aeryn's stomach tightened.
Serin grabbed his cloak. "Aeryn?! What's it saying?"
Aeryn didn't have time to answer.
"Access granted."
The slab dissolved into particles of light.
Eryndor stepped forward in shock.
"Impossible… A human shouldn't be able to open an ancient first-era elven gate."
Aeryn lowered his hand.
"I didn't do anything."
Serin whispered, "That's… the problem."
The entrance revealed a long hallway carved from shimmering stone. The walls were filled with runes flowing like rivers. And at the center of the floor were spirals of mana that pulsed slowly… almost invitingly.
Aeryn swallowed hard.
"We should go."
---
Inside the Forgotten Archive
The hall stretched endlessly, illuminated only by clusters of glowing crystals embedded in the ceiling. No dust. No decay. It looked untouched, preserved by ancient magic.
Serin's eyes were wide.
"This place shouldn't exist. If it were known, scholars would have fought wars over it."
Eryndor's voice echoed through the hall.
"Knowledge this old is usually sealed for a reason."
They reached a large chamber with towering pillars. In the middle stood a strange device—floating rings of metal inscribed with runes, rotating slowly around a crystal core.
Serin gasped.
"That's an arcanum relay! It can store thousands of years of knowledge."
Eryndor approached cautiously.
"Or imprison something."
Aeryn stepped closer—and the rings stopped.
Serin's voice broke.
"No… Aeryn, don't—!"
But it was too late.
The crystal shone brightly.
Runes in the air spiraled into a sphere of projected light.
A voice—faint, old, fractured with age—spoke.
"To whoever walks this path, hear this warning."
Aeryn froze.
Serin grabbed his arm tightly.
Eryndor's expression hardened.
"A presence born before our era stirs beneath the world. It seeks a vessel to manifest once more."
Aeryn's pulse quickened.
"That's the thing that tried to take me," he whispered.
The projection continued:
"We sealed it at the cost of thousands. But the seal weakens each century. Should it find a compatible host, it will consume the world's mana to ascend."
Serin trembled. "Compatible host… No. No, no."
Aeryn closed his fists.
"What makes someone compatible?"
The projection flickered as if struggling to answer.
"Only one with fractured mana… unstable… yet bound to life. Only such a vessel can sustain the entity's awakening."
Aeryn felt his breath freeze.
Fractured mana.
His entire life he'd struggled with mana that surged and recoiled, stronger and weaker at strange intervals.
Serin's eyes widened in horror.
"Aeryn… You…"
His voice was hollow.
"Yeah. Sounds like me."
The projection delivered its final message:
"If the entity has marked you, run. Hide. Or sever your connection to mana entirely… at the cost of your life."
The light dimmed.
Silence dropped like a stone.
Serin's face crumpled.
"No… No. There has to be another way."
Aeryn stared at the ground.
"Sever my connection to mana… That's basically suicide."
Eryndor clenched his jaw.
"We will not allow that."
But Aeryn wasn't looking at him.
He was looking at his hands—the same hands that had glowed with unnatural power. The same hands that had nearly destroyed him when that entity infiltrated his mind.
For the first time since the journey began, Aeryn felt something heavier than fear.
Helplessness.
Serin grabbed his wrist with trembling fingers.
"Don't even think about sacrificing yourself."
Aeryn didn't answer.
She squeezed harder.
"No. Aeryn, look at me."
He raised his eyes.
"We're going to find another way," she said, voice unsteady but fierce. "I don't care what this ancient ruin says. I don't care what legend this entity crawled out of. You're not dying. I won't let you."
Aeryn stared at her for a long time.
Then he forced a smile—a small one, but real.
"I know."
---
The Chamber of Echoes
They continued deeper into the ruins. Past the archive, past the broken murals of battles long forgotten. Every wall, every pillar seemed to whisper echoes of the past—like voices trapped in stone.
Eventually, they reached a circular chamber.
The air felt different—dense, pushing against their skin as if the mana itself resisted their presence.
In the center stood a pedestal holding a crystal sphere.
Serin whispered, "That's a memory anchor."
Eryndor frowned. "Meaning?"
"It stores lived experiences," she explained. "If you touch it, you see someone's memories."
Aeryn stepped forward.
"Aeryn—!" Serin grabbed him. "Wait. It could be dangerous."
He hesitated.
Then gently placed his hand on the crystal.
Light swallowed him whole.
---
A Memory Not His Own
A battlefield.
Screams.
Elves—hundreds of them—casting spells so powerful the sky cracked. A monstrous shape rose from the ground, its form swirling like shadow and fire.
A voice echoed:
"The Devourer of Forms will not die—only consume, only grow—unless sealed!"
A figure stepped forward, cloaked in white and silver.
An elven mage placed hands over a young man—a human—whose body glowed violently.
"Forgive me… but your body is the only vessel strong enough to contain it."
The young man screamed as the entity was forced into him. Marked. Bound. Sealed.
But not destroyed.
Aeryn felt his vision shatter—
And the memory threw him back into reality.
---
Reality Returns
Aeryn gasped and collapsed onto one knee.
Serin caught him instantly.
"Aeryn! Are you okay?!"
Eryndor knelt beside him.
"What did you see?"
Aeryn swallowed.
"A seal ritual… using a human. Someone like me."
Serin's face drained of color.
Eryndor clenched his fist.
"So the entity has used humans before."
"Not used," Aeryn whispered. "Trapped inside them."
Serin's hands shook as she held onto him.
"That means… That means the entity is still looking for a new host."
Aeryn nodded weakly.
"Yeah. And it's chosen me."
---
Resolve
He stood slowly, leaning on Serin for balance until he regained his strength.
Eryndor looked at him with a seriousness Aeryn had never seen before.
"Aeryn. Whatever happens next… you must not face this alone."
Serin's grip tightened.
"We fight this together."
Aeryn looked between them—Serin's trembling determination, Eryndor's stoic resolve.
And something inside him shifted.
The helplessness he felt earlier was still there—but now, layered over it, was something stronger.
Resolve.
"I'm not running," Aeryn said quietly. "I'm not cutting my mana. And I'm not letting this thing decide my future."
Serin exhaled shakily, relief flooding her eyes.
Eryndor nodded once.
"Then we prepare."
Aeryn turned toward the deeper halls of the ruin.
"We find the truth. We find a solution. And then…"
His eyes hardened.
"…we end this."