The stairwell spiraled downward for what felt like days.
No torches. No echoes. Just the sound of their breath—and the eerie, warm light that glowed from the ivory steps, as if the bones of the earth itself were lit from within.
Kael led the way, his eyes sharp, his hand resting loosely on the hilt of his sword. The old man followed, slower now. His movements weren't out of weakness, but restraint. Like someone returning to a place they had vowed never to see again.
And behind them, the twenty cloaked soldiers descended without a word, without a sound.
When they finally reached the bottom, the stairway opened into a cathedral of stone and glass. Towering pillars made of dark marble reached skyward into nothingness. Murals—shifting as if alive—crawled across the ceilings, showing wars with creatures not of man, cities floating in the sky, suns splitting in half.
The empire that lay beneath them was not just old.
It was impossible.
Kael walked slowly down the center of the hall, boots tapping gently on a mirror-like floor that reflected nothing. The air was thick, humming softly.
"I never believed in gods," Kael muttered. "But this… This place feels like it's been touched by something that shouldn't exist."
The old man remained silent.
Then, from above, a voice echoed—not from any speaker, but directly into their minds.
"Return, Iron Ghost."
The cloaked soldiers all paused. Kael raised his hand.
"Who said that?" he called.
The air responded.
"He does not belong here. None of you do. Except the traitor. Let the traitor step forward."
Kael turned to the old man, whose face had gone pale.
"I warned you," the old man whispered.
Kael narrowed his eyes. "Who are they talking about?"
The old man looked ahead, into the darkness at the far end of the cathedral. He took a breath.
"They're talking about me."
And with a wave of his hand, the old man shed his ragged robes.
Underneath was the armor of an emperor—jet black, trimmed in obsidian and dull gold. The sigil on his chest was unmistakable: a crowned serpent swallowing a star.
Kael's mouth went dry. "You were the last ruler of this empire."
"I was the first and the last," the old man said. "And I destroyed it with my own hands."
Just then, the murals began to shift violently. The images twisted, showing the old man atop a throne of bones, waging wars across oceans of time.
Kael's twenty soldiers suddenly turned, forming a ring around him.
"They're not ordinary men," the emperor said. "They are shadows of this empire—remnants of my army. I summoned them once more… because what lies ahead is not of this world."
From the end of the cathedral, the stone split open with a deep groan, revealing a dark gate, covered in chains that rattled even without wind.
"Through that gate," the emperor said, "lies the seed of all empires. The truth we buried. The reason I destroyed this place."
Kael looked at him, finally asking:
"And why bring me?"
The emperor gave a tired smile.
"Because your kingdom… was born from mine."
The gate creaked open.
A wave of heat and darkness poured out, almost suffocating. Whispers echoed from beyond—languages no man alive should understand, but Kael somehow did.
"This is the end of your answers," the emperor said. "And the beginning of your choices."
Kael stepped forward.
And as he crossed the threshold, a voice whispered behind him:
"Welcome home, child of the forgotten sun."
To be continued…