The cavern grew colder as they ventured deeper.
No sound of running water, no echo of their footsteps—only silence so thick it felt alive.
Then, a soft glow began to stir, not from fire, not from magic, but from countless faint eyes blinking in the dark.
"Careful," Rafael whispered, drawing his blade.
Allara's ears twitched; her wolf-blood sensed what her eyes could not.
"They are here."
From the darkness, shapes emerged—tall, slender, horned silhouettes, their skin shifting like smoke. Yet their movements carried no hostility, only weariness.
One stepped forward, a figure cloaked in shadows yet with a voice deep and resonant.
"You walk the paths of memory. But do you know the truth of our kind?"
Prava swallowed, her chest tightening. "…Demons."
The figure's gaze lingered on her, but instead of rage, there was sorrow.
"Once, we were not what you call us. We were the Watchers—the guardians of balance. We stood between the realms of beast and man, holding back the chaos. Until…"
His voice faltered, and the cavern walls shimmered as if painted with memory.
Images bloomed around them: vast fields, rivers flowing with light, and demons standing tall beside wolves and dragons.
But then—a rift tore the sky. A black curse descended, twisting their bodies, filling their veins with fire and hatred.
"They called us demons. They forgot who cast the first stone."
Allara's hand clenched at her chest.
"So you were cursed. Not born of malice, but bound by it."
The leader bowed his head. "Yes. And within our blood, the curse lingers still. We fight to remember, yet many of us are lost to rage. That is why we stand here, unseen, in shadow—waiting for those who can restore the truth."
Prava stepped forward despite Rafael's protective grip.
Her voice trembled, yet it carried strength.
"If the curse can be undone, if balance can return… then I will not turn away."
For the first time, the demon leader's eyes glowed not with fury, but with a flicker of hope.
"Then perhaps the prophecy was not in vain. The blood of dragon, the blood of wolf, and the heart of man… together may yet break what has bound us for centuries."
The shadows stirred, parting the way ahead.
And as they stepped through, Prava felt a weight settle on her shoulders—not fear, but destiny.