The air in the quarry cave grew colder by the hour. Morning hadn't broken yet, but Elira could sense what lay beneath the surface—something ancient, something hungry. She hovered near a patch of stone cracked in a perfect spiral.
"This isn't just a cave," she whispered. "It's a soulforge."
Liaen's eyes widened. "A real one? I thought they were all destroyed after the Fall."
Asher knelt, placing a hand on the spiral. He closed his eyes. A hum resonated through the stone, deep and rhythmic—like a heart buried in the earth.
"No," he said. "It's dormant. But alive."
Emilia stepped closer, instinctively drawn to the pulse. As her fingers touched the symbol, a faint flare of light danced across her palm—and her soul responded. Threads of power stirred in her chest, whispering in forgotten tongues.
"It's calling to me," she breathed.
With Elira guiding, they uncovered a hidden passage beneath a slab of broken rock. The path descended steeply, carved with ancient runes, the walls laced with crystal veins that pulsed with residual soul energy. The air grew thick, like wading through fog made of memory.
"I read about these," Liaen muttered. "Old soulforges were places where soulweavers forged weapons, armor… even spirit bonds."
Elira nodded. "And sometimes… more."
The tunnel opened into a vast chamber—circular, metallic, and glowing faintly blue. At its center stood a dais, ringed with ghoststeel, atop which rested a throne of bones wrapped in silver chains. Hovering above it was a glowing orb, cracked but pulsing—like it remembered being whole.
"That's not just a forge," Asher said grimly. "That's a soul core."
As they stepped closer, a whisper rose in the room. Not words—just feeling. Pain. Hope. Longing.
Then, without warning, the orb flashed.
Emilia screamed as she was pulled forward, suspended in midair. Her body glowed, her veins burning with golden fire. Images flashed in her mind—her parents, the night of the attack, the masked Herald, the flame inside her chest—
And then, silence.
She floated gently to the ground, gasping.
"Elira… I saw everything," she whispered. "This forge—my mother used it once. She left part of her soul here. That's how the flame stayed alive. That's why the Cult wants me."
Elira's form wavered. "They want to finish what your mother started… or corrupt it."
Liaen looked to Asher. "If this place gets into the wrong hands—"
"It won't," Asher said. "We seal it."
But the forge had other plans.
The soul core flared again, projecting an image—an echo of a memory.
A woman, cloaked in fire, stood with a child wrapped in soulcloth. A man beside her wielded a blade that shimmered with light. They stood in this very chamber, making a final stand against robed attackers.
Then the vision shattered.
Elira floated closer. "That was your mother, Emilia. And… your father."
Emilia's voice trembled. "I don't remember him."
"He was a guardian. He stayed behind so your mother could escape."
Asher looked at the soul core. "Their sacrifice lives in you."
They activated the forge using Emilia's soullight. The chamber glowed brighter, cleansing itself of rot. Chains broke. The bones vanished. In their place stood a glowing pedestal, empty—but pulsing, waiting.
"What's it for?" Liaen asked.
Elira's answer was simple.
"A soul weapon. Something forged not of steel, but of meaning."
Emilia stared at the pedestal, unsure.
"You're not ready yet," Asher said gently. "But you will be. One day, that weapon will answer only to you."
She nodded, slowly. "Then we make sure this place stays hidden. From the Cult. From everyone."
Before leaving, Elira placed her palm on the forge's wall. Her light merged with the crystal veins, etching a ward—ancient, binding, protective.
"If I fade, this will remain," she said.
Emilia watched her, heart aching. "You're giving too much."
Elira smiled. "I'm giving what I have. So that you can give more."
As they emerged from the soulforge, the morning sun finally broke across the distant hills. Behind them, the passage sealed with a soft echo—like the forge itself sighed in relief.
The world outside was still dark.
But now, beneath the surface, a spark waited.