The air in Bellgrave was thick with anticipation, the silence pressing against Nima and Dmitri as they ventured deeper into the ancient city. The newly fused shard in Nima's possession pulsed with a rhythmic glow, guiding their path through the labyrinthine corridors.
They arrived at a grand hall, its vaulted ceiling adorned with faded murals depicting the Bell in various stages—whole, shattered, and reassembled. At the center stood a towering figure cloaked in robes of midnight blue, the Warden of Hollowroot.
"You've come far," the Warden intoned, his voice echoing through the chamber. "But the path ahead is fraught with peril."
Nima stepped forward, her gaze unwavering. "We seek the truth of the Bell and its purpose."
The Warden nodded slowly. "The Bell was never merely an object; it was a seal, a safeguard against the chaos that once threatened to consume our world. Each shard you collect brings you closer to unlocking its full power—and the consequences that come with it."
Dmitri's hand rested on the hilt of his blade. "What are these consequences?"
"The Bellkeeper," the Warden replied, his tone grave. "A being of immense power, imprisoned when the Bell was shattered. Restoring the Bell risks awakening it."
Nima's grip tightened around the shard. "We must know the truth, regardless of the danger."
The Warden extended a hand, revealing a third shard. "Then take this, and with it, the knowledge that your journey will determine the fate of our world."
As Nima accepted the shard, a surge of energy coursed through her, visions of a world both ancient and future flashing before her eyes. The Bell's song grew louder, its melody weaving into her very being.
The Warden's form began to fade, his final words lingering in the air. "Choose wisely, for the echoes of your decisions will resonate through time."
The echo of the Song followed them even here, beneath the hanging roots and dying moss, as if the Bell itself wept through the stones.
Nima stepped lightly over a slick floor of shattered glass, her boots cracking softly with each step. The light from Dmitri's lantern flickered against the walls, revealing rows of collapsed pews and broken arches. This chamber—once a chapel? A gathering hall?—lay deep beneath Hollowroot. Yet it bore no signs of rot, only silence. As though it had simply been… paused.
She touched a wall. The stone was smooth and unnaturally warm.
"The Bell's hum is stronger here," she whispered.
Dmitri nodded grimly. "It's not just the Song anymore. Something else is singing with it. Out of tune."
At the chamber's center stood another bell—smaller than the fragments they'd encountered, but intact. It was suspended on iron supports that twisted unnaturally, like roots fused with metal. This bell was blackened, warped, and slick with something like oil. As they drew closer, the shard Nima carried vibrated violently in her pouch.
She pulled it free.
It levitated slightly, pulling toward the dark bell. The sound it emitted was low, almost inaudible, but filled with emotion—like the sob of something once divine, now broken beyond repair.
Dmitri stepped between her and the bell. "This isn't right. That thing—it's not part of the original Song."
A rasping breath broke the silence.
From the far end of the chamber, a figure stepped out of shadow. Their robes hung like molted skin, frayed and stained. Beneath the hood, a jaw twisted at an odd angle, and eyes too wide shimmered like wells of ink.
"You found the Echo Shard," the figure said in a voice that scraped like rusted bells. "And still, you follow the path downward."
Nima held the shard tightly. "Who are you?"
"I was like you. Before the Song chose another."
Dmitri raised his blade. "What do you want?"
The figure ignored him. "The Bell was once a beacon. A warning. But it has been silenced, corrupted. Each piece you find brings you closer not to the truth—but to what lies beneath it."
Nima's eyes narrowed. "You mean the City Below."
A thin smile curled across the figure's face. "You've heard its name. Then you know it sleeps. And if the Bell tolls once more…"
They let the words hang in the air.
Silence.
Then the Bell behind them rang.
Just once.
The sound reverberated through their bones, through the chamber, up the winding paths of Hollowroot. Aboveground, things would stir. And below…
Cracks splintered across the floor. The bell's blackened surface glowed briefly with red veins of light, then dulled.
Nima staggered. Visions struck again—cities crumbling, rivers reversing, people weeping in place as if held by invisible chains. At the center of it all: a throne of rusted bells, and something seated atop it. Waiting.
"We need to leave," Dmitri said, dragging her back as the figure laughed—a sound that was more cough than joy.
"You can't escape now," the figure wheezed. "You've stepped beyond the Song. You've touched its stain."
The floor gave way.
Again.
But this time, there was no falling—only shifting.
They weren't underground anymore.
They were somewhere else.