The rope swayed as they descended.Stone walls pressed close.No sound but breath. No light but flame.
The deeper they went,the colder it became.
Vael's torch flickered.The crown whispered faster now.Words without shape.
He landed first.Solid ground.But not stone.
It was bone.
Reylen landed next, knees bent.Nyra followed, holding her staff tight.
A vast cavern opened before them.Pillars reached the ceiling.Buildings carved from black rock.Empty windows. Empty doors.
A city buried alive.
"What is this place?" Reylen breathed.
"Forgotten," Nyra said."On purpose."
Vael stepped forward.Each step echoed through silence.Nothing moved.
Yet he felt watched.Not by eyes—by memories.
They crossed a wide bridge.Below it, a river of chains.Not water. Not metal.Alive. Twisting.
Something had been bound here.For ages.
They reached a square.At its center stood a tower.Ruined, cracked, but still standing.
Vael's eyes narrowed."The throne is there."
Reylen whispered, "I don't want to know who sat on it."
Nyra knelt, fingers brushing the dust.Her lips moved silently.
Then she gasped.
"What is it?" Vael asked.
"They're not gone.They're dreaming."
A loud creak echoed through the city.Like stone waking from sleep.
The flame on Vael's torch turned black.
"Someone's here," Reylen said.
No.Not someone.
The city itself… was breathing.
A voice rumbled across the walls.Ancient. Soft.
"Crown-bearer… you've come."
Vael clenched his jaw."Who are you?"
The voice laughed."One of the First.Left behind when gods fell.And you… are my echo."
The ground shook.
Chains in the river stirred.The city blinked.And from the shadows…something opened its eyes.