The ring was simple—a plain circle of silver with no apparent designs or markings. When Theon tried channeling his Lu into it, nothing happened, except for a brief flash of golden light that faded as quickly as it appeared.
He slid it onto his pinkie with a grimace. The Ouroboros ring coiled around his middle finger, his spatial rings gleamed on his index and ring fingers, and now this enigmatic newcomer completed the set. 'At this rate', he mused, flexing his hand 'I might need my second arm back just so I can wear them all.'
But now, he had to focus on the task at hand: finding a way out of the cavern. The wind current he felt earlier was his best lead. Using his remaining strength, Theon began to move towards the source of the breeze, each step a struggle for his weakened body.
As he advanced, the cavern walls seemed to narrow as the wind grew stronger, guiding him through the twisting passages. Eventually, he reached a small opening hidden behind a cluster of stalagmites. It was barely wide enough for his shoulders to pass. He squeezed through, scraping his side against the rough stone.
And there, bathed in an ethereal, rhythmic golden glow, stood an altar. It was covered in intricate carvings that seemed to pulse with a faint, steady light. The air here was different, charged with a strange energy that made his skin tingle.
As he approached the altar, the silver ring began to vibrate slightly, as if resonating with the energy of the chamber. Theon took it out and as he held it aloft, the two luminous pulses of the ring and altar synced—as if answering one another.
Holding his breath, Theon pressed the ring against the altar's surface.
For a long, tense moment, nothing happened, just the synchronized pulsing, a silent heartbeat in the cavern's depths.
Then, a shiver ran through the air, subtle yet profound. The wind shifted.
It wasn't a sudden gust, just a quiet change in the air—a draft where there shouldn't have been one. Theon turned. The cavern wall, solid and unbroken before, now let the breeze pass through it like an open door.
His Lu senses unfurled, testing the surface with delicate precision. No traps answered his probe, no mechanisms revealed themselves. It only returned what he already knew - that the wall wasn't even there. Still cautious, he stretched out his hand. Fingertips met cold stone that dissolved into nothingness, the illusion shivering like disturbed water at his touch.
Taking a deep breath, Theon passed through the wall. The sensation was strange, like walking through a thick mist. For a brief moment, the world dissolved into a viscous haze. Cold mist clung to his skin like ghostly fingers before releasing him into -
A cavernous chamber, its vaulted ceiling studded with bioluminescent crystals that cast wavering sapphire light across the stone. At the chamber's heart pulsed a formation that froze Theon mid-step.
He recognized the design; it had elements of a Lu harvesting array, similar to those in the cryogenic chambers but was warped beyond recognition. This was no single formation, but a grotesque amalgamation of interlocking circles, their geometries straining against each other. It resembled a combination of an absorption array, a summoning array, an enhancement array and there were many more details that linked it to dozen other array types as well. Though sections had crumbled with age, the remaining structure hummed with residual energy, - the same death-Lu that had poured from the abomination's corpse.
Three objects rested at the formation's heart, preserved with unnatural perfection. An obsidian-black feather, its edges frayed with dark energy that seemed to drink in the surrounding light. Nearby sat a glass flask containing a viscous violet substance that twitched and bulged against its confines. Completing the triad was a dark crystal sphere that pulsed rhythmically, its core flickering like a dying heartbeat.
Against the far wall, a metal desk stood as a stark anomaly amidst the ancient stone. Its surface, coated in fine gray dust, bore a leather-bound journal and an assortment of glass vials containing unidentifiable substances. Theon approached cautiously, each footstep stirring up tiny clouds that hung suspended in the still air.
The journal's spine crackled like dry bones as Theon opened it, releasing the ghost of old leather and the iron tang of something long oxidized. The pages, their edges browned with age, bore handwriting that had stubbornly resisted time's erosion - each stroke pressed deep into the paper as if carved with fury rather than ink.
It described a history Theon was quite familiar with.
The empire, in a bid to survive a cataclysmic event, had devised a scheme to preserve its elite by placing them in cryogenic sleep, abandoning their common people to catastrophe.
Entry 1:
[The empire's plans have been leaked. They intend to freeze themselves, safe from the coming storm, while the rest of us are left to die. The arrogance! What of the laborers who built their cryo-chambers? The farmers who'll starve? The children who won't be able to dream of a future?
We are nothing to them—expendable. But we will not be cast aside so easily.
Mira came tonight. I showed her the plans. The way her hands trembled... not with fear, but rage. We drank cheap wine and plotted by candlelight like students again. She still has that fire that made her the brightest of our graduating class. I've found others who share our anger, my vision. We will turn their plan on its head, and they will regret ever thinking they could escape judgment. No. This I swear upon my dying breath: their preservation will become their tomb.
This will be my masterpiece - not preserving the privileged few, but saving us all. Let history remember who truly acted when the Empire abandoned its people.]
Entry 6:
[Voltaic Blaze exceeds expectations! The ambient Lu readings are 27% higher than projected. Mira's grounding array works beautifully - no detectable energy signature. It's a critical point in the empire's energy network, a perfect place to siphon off their precious Lu. Turning their own resources against them—it's poetic, really.
But organizing this rebellion is draining me. Every step has to be concealed. Every misstep could unravel us. I'm not sure how much longer I can keep this up. Mira worries we're moving too fast. I told her about the dreams - equations writing themselves in my sleep, solutions unfolding behind my eyelids. She called it "concerning." But what does she know, I've already brought us so far.
Still... that sound last night. Probably just the canyon winds. But for a moment, I swore I heard breathing in the empty lab.]
Entry 23:
[The primary array is complete! A masterpiece, a monument to my brilliance. The siphon array intercepts 89.6% of the imperial Lu flow with zero detection. Mira says we should stop here. Says we've made our point.
But this is only the beginning. It was never only about sabotage. I've realized we need something more. We need power beyond the empire's reach.
Demons, they call them. The others balk at the word, but what's a demon compared to the monsters leaving us behind? Yes, it sounds insane, but isn't it worth the risk? What other choice do I have? The fools I've recruited don't understand the magnitude of what I'm doing, those damned simpletons. But they'll see. Soon enough, they'll see… they'll all see. Mira….she…she doesn't understand. Her face turned pale when I told her of my vision. But she-she just doesn't understand. The absorption rates alone, the raw, untamed potential… they should have made her weep with joy!]
Entry 25:
[Mira hasn't eaten with me in a week. I see her watching through the lab window, her gaze is heavy on my back.
We've started collecting objects of demonic power. We've secured a corrupted feather of a flametail. That's a start, but it's not enough. I'm in talks to acquire a demonic Lu crystal. It has to work. It has to. It will.]
By now the once elegant writing had turned into nearly incomprehensible scribbles, letters leaning haphazardly, some words overwritten, others trailing off into frantic, indecipherable scribbles. Entire pages were scribbled out, the ink pressed so hard it tore the paper.
Entry 30:
[The crystal deal fell through. That bastard merchant saw my desperation. No matter - the demon blood shows promising reactivity patterns.
My own men doubt me now, I can see it in their eyes, their hushed conversations. Plebeians. Pathetic plebeians. I don't need them. I've bought a vial of demon's blood and a seed of carnivorous saguaro. The saguaro seed... gods, it pulses in its jar like a living heart.
M-Mira hasn't spoken to me since the incident. She came to me after waking up at night, her voice raspy and concerned. Said everyone was scared. Said she didn't want to lose me. Whatever that means. Who is she to decide? Why can't she see what I see?]
Entry 32:
[They're lying about the whispers. "Just equipment resonance." my ass. I've mapped every frequency in this facility. NO ONE KNOWS IT BETTER THAN ME. This is different. This is... something else.
Found Yurin going through my notes last night. Said he was "concerned." I showed him the equations until he stopped asking questions.
I haven't slept in days, and my thoughts… they feel distant, fragmented. I must remain focused. The plan is everything.]
Entry 37:
[Mira left. Took half the team. Cowards. Traitors. It's too late now.
…
The lab feels empty sometimes. Now that she's gone.
I never knew silence could be so loud.
…
Sometimes I dream of simple times - my graduation speech now - how they cheered when I spoke of serving the people. Soon they'll understand. Soon everyone will see.]
Entry 39:
[No one left but the shadows now. They whisper such... helpful things. Show me where the spies hide. Show me who I can trust.
The formation sings in my veins. Can't remember the last meal. Last sleep. No matter.
Almost there. Almost perfect.]
Entry 40:
[They're here. I can feel their eyes on me. Always watching. Even now, they wait for me to fail. The air—it's thick, suffocating. Is it the spies, or has the formation's power begun to twist my mind? I know not. Does it matter? No. No, it doesn't. It doesn't. It will all be worth it in the end. I will be a revered hero, showered in praise when I emerge. It's almost ready. Just a little more.
A little more energy.
Just a little more.]
Entry 42:
[Mira was wrong. They all were.
I press my palm to the central node. The pain is exquisite—like lightning carving my bones into new equations. The shadows on the walls aren't mine anymore. They bow.
Let them come. Let them all see what I've become.
LET THEM KNOW I WAS RIGHT ALL ALONG.]
The page ended abruptly. The final line dissolved into a single, spiraling smear of black ink, as if the pen had been dragged endlessly downward. Around it, the paper is blistered with old heat, and the faint imprint of a handprint, fingers splayed in triumph or surrender.