The door groaned open.Dust fell like ash.The air turned sharp, cold.
Stone steps spiraled down,Disappearing into black.
Reylen peered in."No light. No sound. Bad idea."
Vael took the first step."I've seen worse."
Nyra followed him.Her fingers brushed the wall.Symbols glowed faintly, then dimmed.
Eron was last."This place wasn't made for kings," he muttered."It was made to bury them."
Down and down they went.Each step felt heavier.Not just on their legs—But on their minds.
The deeper they went,The harder it became to breathe.
Something ancient watched them.Not with eyes.With memory.
Finally—They reached the bottom.
A vast chamber.Circular.Walls covered in writing none of them knew.
In the center—A pool of liquid black.
Still.Perfect.
Vael stepped closer.The surface didn't ripple.It reflected nothing.
Not even light.
"What is it?" Nyra whispered.
Eron knelt."Truth."
Reylen frowned."That's vague even for you."
Eron nodded."Because it is vague."
The pool pulsed.
Then—A voice.
Not loud.Not echoing.
Just… near.
"Welcome."
They froze.
"You broke one chain.But there are more."
Vael stepped forward.
"Who are you?"
The voice didn't answer.Instead—Shapes rose from the pool.
Not monsters.Not men.
Reflections.Of each of them.
Vael.Nyra.Reylen.Eron.
Each version wore a crown.
Each version looked… wrong.
Twisted.Cruel.Empty.
"You are all one step away," the voice said.
"From what?" Nyra asked.
"From becoming what you were meant to be."
The pool churned.The chamber shook.
And their reflections smiled.