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Chapter 12: The Altar's Pulse
The ruins of Transvine lay silent, a suffocating stillness draped over the broken streets like a burial shroud. Ash drifted in the air, carrying with it the lingering stench of blood. Only the faint moan of the wind disturbed the stillness.
I leaned against a half-shattered pillar, chest heaving, sweat stinging my eyes. My sword rested across my knees, its edge slick with the black ichor of the creatures we had just slain.
Beside me, Silvia wrapped a strip of cloth tightly around the shallow gash along her arm, movements sharp and practiced. "You swing hard," she said flatly, though I caught the flicker of concern in her eyes. "But you still leave yourself open."
I wiped my brow with the back of my hand and smirked weakly. "I'll take the advice. But considering we're both still standing, I'd say it worked out."
She huffed, but didn't push the argument. Instead, her gaze slid to the object between us—the black book. Its leather cover shivered faintly, the runes etched into it writhing as though alive. Each pulse of light seemed to match the low tremors rippling beneath the ruined city.
"The book's restless," I muttered, staring at the shifting symbols. "Feels like it's… urging us forward."
Silvia's expression hardened. "Or warning us. That vision you described—the altar. This city was one of the first outposts to experiment with summoning rituals. If an altar survived here, it's not just rubble. It's an anchor."
"Anchor?"
She nodded. "A conduit. With enough energy, it can pierce the veil between realms. That's how beasts are flooding through. But destroying it recklessly could collapse the city… or worse—tear the veil wide open."
I let out a low whistle. "So no smashing it with my sword. Good to know."
As if in answer, the ground rumbled beneath us, dust sifting down from the broken stones overhead. Silvia rose smoothly, brushing dirt from her cloak. "We can't wait. If the altar is pulsing like this, it's preparing something. We find it, sever its connection, and leave before it takes the city with it."
I pushed to my feet, gripping my sword tighter, fatigue melting into determination. "Then lead the way."
We followed the tremors deeper into the city, the ruins twisting around us as if reshaped by unseen hands. Streets cracked open to reveal hidden stairwells that descended into blackness, each step colder than the last.
The air thickened underground. Crumbling murals lined the walls, their faded pigments showing gods locked in endless war with beasts, and men kneeling before towering stone altars.
My torchlight danced across the scenes. "They knew," I murmured. "They saw this coming."
Silvia's voice echoed in the narrow passage. "History always repeats. They traded freedom for power they didn't understand. We're living in the aftermath of their arrogance."
A skittering sound cut through the silence. Shadows detached from the walls—spider-like creatures, their translucent bodies glowing faintly with red cores. Dozens of eyes glared at us as their chittering filled the tunnel.
I tightened my grip on my sword. "Guess they don't want company."
The swarm lunged.
Steel met flesh with a sickening crunch as I split the first one in two, ichor sizzling against my blade. Another leapt for my back, but Silvia's incantation froze it mid-air, her staff flashing as a jagged spear of ice impaled it. The fight became a blur of steel, flame, and claws scraping stone.
At last, silence returned. I leaned against the wall, catching my breath. "Our teamwork's improving."
Silvia gave the faintest smirk. "Try not to die, and I'll agree."
The tunnel opened into a vast cavern, our torches barely brushing the ceiling. At its center loomed the altar—a towering slab of black stone, its surface carved with runes glowing an unnatural blue. The air around it pulsed like a heartbeat, rattling my bones with each thrum.
Bones littered the chamber floor. Dozens of skeletal remains, some bound by chains of shadow to the altar itself. As we approached, those shadows stirred. The corpses jerked upright, hollow eyes burning with spectral fire. Rusted weapons clattered in their hands.
I grimaced. "Knew it. They never stay dead."
Before I could strike, the book in Silvia's grip flared. A figure bled into existence above the altar—the masked summoner from my vision. Only this time it wasn't memory. Shadows thickened into fleshless form, binding into a wraith cloaked in darkness.
Its voice hissed through the cavern. "You dare profane my altar…"
I raised my sword. "Yeah, well, I'm good at making enemies. Let's finish this."
The skeletons rushed us first. I met them head-on, blade clashing against rusted steel, every strike echoing through the cavern. But each kill was hollow—the altar's energy dragged the bones back together, reanimating them again and again.
Silvia unleashed fire and lightning, scattering bone fragments, but the wraith spread its shadows wide, twisting her spells into smoke.
"You cannot sever what has been bound for centuries," it whispered, advancing.
Then the book pulsed, runes burning into my mind. For a heartbeat, I wasn't myself. I was another warrior, centuries ago, standing in this very chamber, spear in hand, battling this same guardian. His movements burned into my muscles, guiding me like an echo.
I shifted my stance, mimicking him. My next swing cut through three skeletons in one sweep, scattering their bones far beyond the altar's reach.
"Silvia!" I shouted. "The book's showing me—use it!"
She planted her staff, channeling energy into the book. Runes flared from its pages, spilling across the floor in a blazing glyph. The wraith screamed as its form unraveled, the glyph tearing at its tether to the altar.
I seized the opening. Guided by the phantom warrior's memory, I lunged, driving my blade deep into the altar's glowing core.
The stone cracked. Blue light bled out like veins splitting apart.
The wraith shrieked, dissolving into mist as the altar shattered, its power collapsing in on itself. The cavern quaked, rocks crashing from above.
"Time to run!" Silvia shouted as she hastily ran
We fled through the collapsing tunnels, lungs burning as stone crashed behind us. By the time we stumbled out into the night air, the tremors had ceased. The ruins were still again—emptied of their oppressive pulse.
I dropped to one knee, gasping. "That… was too close."
Silvia lowered herself beside me, clutching the book. Its glow had dimmed, but its pages flipped of their own accord, halting on a new passage of runes.
I leaned in, reading aloud. "'One altar broken, yet six remain. The gateways stir, and the First Raid was only the beginning.'"
Her face paled. "Six more… scattered across the realms."
The words settled like stone in my chest. My fists clenched. "Then we find them. One by one. And we tear them down before anyone else dies."
Silvia's cold composure cracked just enough for me to see her eyes soften. "You speak recklessly… but perhaps recklessness is what we need. Someone stubborn enough to fight fate itself."
The book snapped shut, its runes sealed once more. Above us, the stars burned faintly through the ruins of Transvine.
But the night sky gave no comfort. We both knew—this was only the beginning.
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