Kael moved like a shadow through the forest's edge.
The trees here were older—twisted things, half-dead and half-waiting.
Every root beneath his feet felt like it might shift if stepped on wrong.
The bottle pulsed faintly at his side, a heartbeat not his own.
It hadn't spoken again.
But it watched.
Always watched.
He followed the slope until the trees gave way to stone.
A broken ridge stretched before him, littered with shattered pillars and vine-choked ruins.
Old.
Forgotten.
Not Hollow-built.
Older.
Kael stepped carefully into the clearing, senses straining.
Something buzzed beneath his skin—low, like a whisper lost in water.
He crouched beside a half-buried stone slab.
Faint lines etched across its surface shimmered in the dim light.
Not decorative.
Functional.
A formation.
He brushed away moss and dirt.
Circular runes.
Interlocking glyphs.
A containment seal, broken along three points.
Whatever it had held—was gone.
Or worse—
Still beneath.
The bottle grew warm.
Not in warning.
In recognition.
Kael rose slowly.
This place mattered.
To the bottle.
To him.
He didn't understand how.
But he felt it.
Felt the weight of memory not his own pressing behind his eyes.
Behind him—
Branches cracked.
Footsteps.
Fast. Coordinated.
The hunters were close.
Kael didn't run.
Not yet.
He reached into the pouch.
Fingers wrapped around the bottle.
It thrummed.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Alive.
He pressed it gently to the shattered rune.
The response was instant.
Light flared.
Not bright—but deep.
Green-gold veins raced along the ruined seal, rekindling patterns not touched in centuries.
The clearing shifted.
Air thickened.
The ground moaned.
Something old stirred beneath.
Kael's hand jerked back.
The glow receded, like breath drawn inward.
The bottle stilled.
But now, the runes beneath his feet faintly glimmered.
Voices behind him.
"Target sighted!"
Kael turned.
Four hunters, moving in fast formation.
No time.
He stepped into the center of the ancient circle.
Held the bottle tight.
Whispered:
"Do something."
The ground answered.
A pulse erupted from the seal—blunt, concussive.
Not deadly.
But enough.
The first two hunters staggered.
The third tripped over twisted roots that hadn't been there a moment ago.
The fourth threw a chain—
Kael dodged.
Barely.
The edge grazed his shoulder, tearing cloth and skin.
He fell back.
The bottle pulsed again.
Harder.
And the rune beneath him cracked open.
A sound like a scream swallowed in stone echoed through the clearing.
The earth split beneath his feet.
Light poured upward.
Or maybe memory.
Kael fell.
Not long.
But enough.
Stone gave way to cold air.
Cold air gave way to darkness.
He landed hard on a slope of broken shale and tumbled to a stop.
Pain roared through his body.
But nothing snapped.
Nothing ended.
Above, the light from the runes dimmed.
The hole sealed itself in silence.
Kael lay still, breath ragged.
The bottle pulsed slowly now.
Not alarmed.
Just… there.
Like always.
He sat up, body trembling.
Looked around.
The chamber was vast.
Ancient.
Walls etched in forgotten symbols.
Not built.
Grown.
He had fallen through the Hollow's plans.
Through the hunter's traps.
Through the remains of whatever came before them all.
And what waited below was no longer a question.
It was a promise.