The path twisted deeper underground.The air turned colder. Shadows grew thicker.
Vael moved slowly but kept going.His breath echoed off the old stone walls.
Reylen walked beside him, silent.His eyes stayed on the dark ahead.
Faint blue symbols began to glow along the walls.Whispers followed—soft, like wind speaking behind words.
The crown pulsed once.Then again—stronger.
"They're calling," Vael muttered.His voice sounded distant. Empty.
Reylen stopped. "That door… it wasn't here before."
Ahead stood a huge archway.Thick roots twisted around it like veins.
The symbols on it pulsed—older than the kingdom itself.Each one humming with voices buried deep.
Vael stepped closer.The crown glowed brighter—gold light slipping through the cracks.
He raised a hand.The stone groaned, like something sleeping was waking.
A sharp gust came from the arch.It wasn't wind. It felt like memory.
Screams. Laughter. Regret.All at once.
"You shouldn't go in," Reylen said.But he didn't try to stop him.
Vael touched the stone.The gate opened—with a sound like a breath.
Inside was a massive chamber.Pillars carved with eyes.Walls that wept black liquid.
At the center—A still, silent pool. Like a mirror.
And floating above it—A figure, wrapped in chains.
She hung there, barely alive.Eyes shut. Skin pale. Hair white as snow.
"What is this place?" Vael whispered.
Reylen's voice shook."The Gate of Whispers. A prison… for those the crown has touched."
The chained figure opened one eye.Pale gold—just like Vael's.
"You finally came," she said softly."Bearer of the broken king."
Vael froze.His heartbeat drowned out the whispers.
She smiled."I'm Nyra. I wore the crown before you."