Ashgate rose from the mountain's side like the mouth of a buried god—massive, grim, and ancient beyond reckoning.
Once, it had been a passageway for trade caravans and military convoys. Now, it was a wound in the earth sealed by layers of obsidian rock, scorched sigils, and rusted chains as thick as tree trunks. Even from a distance, Duncan could feel it breathing.
Not wind. Not echo.
Something alive. Something ancient.
They stood at the base of the slope, staring up at the blackened gate. Snow swirled lazily around them, carried by the updraft of warm air leaking from cracks in the stone.
Brannoc shifted uncomfortably. "We're not supposed to be here."
"No one is," Kael said. "The Ashgate was sealed two hundred years ago after the Hollowed first emerged from the mountain tunnels. The Empire wrote it off. Claimed the land was 'geologically unstable.' That was their way of saying they were scared."
"And now it's opening again," Duncan murmured. "Something inside wants out."
The Seals Break
As they approached the gate, the Emberblade pulsed—first faintly, then stronger with every step. Duncan unsheathed it slowly, and the mountain itself seemed to groan in response. The obsidian chains rattled.
Kael pressed her hand against the sigil-marked stone.
"These runes… they're not entirely Imperial. They've been layered over something older. Look." She scraped a bit of soot away with her gauntlet, revealing an eye carved beneath the surface.
Duncan's jaw tightened. "The Eye of Shroudcall."
"The Veiled Path once controlled this gate," she said. "They sealed something in."
Brannoc stepped back. "And we're just going to open it?"
Duncan turned to face him. "We're not the ones opening it. It's already waking up. All we can do now is step inside and understand why."
He raised the Emberblade.
The seals responded to the blade's fire.
The stone sizzled. The air hissed. The sigils flared—then burned away, one by one, with a shriek like dying voices.
The chains snapped.
The gate began to open.
Into the Deep
The interior of Ashgate was colder than the mountains above it. Not in temperature—but in feeling. The very walls seemed to absorb sound. Their footsteps echoed oddly, muffled by centuries of silence and ash.
Torches were mounted at intervals, untouched and unlit for decades. As they passed, each burst into flame—lit by the Emberblade's presence.
Kael held her breath. "It's guiding us."
They moved cautiously, descending deep into the earth. The tunnel split and twisted, but the blade always pointed forward, humming slightly whenever they veered from the correct path.
At one point, they passed a collapsed chamber filled with bones—some human, others not. A shattered war-spear lay beside a melted helm. Symbols carved into the walls showed battles. Fire. Beasts. And at the center, always the Eye.
A warning. Or a prophecy.
The Whispering Hollow
The deeper they traveled, the louder the whispers became.
They were not voices in the traditional sense—not words. But impressions. Ideas. Images forming in the edges of the mind.
Duncan heard screams—his own voice shouting orders on a battlefield that hadn't happened yet.
Kael flinched beside him, her eyes unfocused.
Brannoc whispered his son's name under his breath, over and over again.
It wasn't until they reached the chamber at the heart of the Ashgate that the whispers stopped—and silence returned, heavy and expectant.
They stood before a massive altar.
Carved from blackstone. Covered in old, dried blood.
At its center hovered a crystal orb—faintly pulsing, just like the mimic flame they'd destroyed in the tower. But this one was intact. Clean. Ancient.
Duncan stepped forward. "This is the Eye's core."
Kael nodded. "And it's awake."
Visions of Fire and Ash
As Duncan reached out to touch the orb, his vision shattered.
He was pulled into a storm of flame.
He saw the past—the true past—not the stories told in the Empire's libraries.
Ashgate was once a temple. A fortress of the old world, built not to worship gods, but to contain them. The Veiled Path had sealed an entity here—something not born of the mortal realm. Something vast, sentient, and cruel.
The Ash Sovereign.
It was a being of flame and thought, bound to ember and stone. When it awoke, it whispered to men. Promised power. Promised immortality. Promised control over the beasts of the world.
Many followed.
They became the Hollowed.
The Eye was its mark.
Its voice.
Its dream.
Duncan collapsed to his knees, breath ragged.
Kael caught him. "What did you see?"
He looked up, eyes flickering with flame.
"It's not just fire. It's a mind. And it remembers me."
Echoes of the Flame
The orb pulsed once more—this time with urgency. A crack appeared on its surface, and a breath of cold wind swept through the chamber.
Then came the sound.
Footsteps.
Hundreds of them.
From the tunnels behind.
Kael spun, spear drawn. "They're coming."
Brannoc cursed. "Who?"
Duncan stood, the Emberblade glowing bright now, casting long shadows along the walls.
"The ones who heard the Eye's call. The Hollowed never died—they just waited."
The whispers returned.
Louder.
Stronger.
But now, Duncan didn't hear just words. He heard names. Commands. Orders passed in battle.
He heard his grandfather's voice.
"Duncan. If you can hear this… you must seal it. You must never let the Eye open fully."
Duncan's heart pounded.
His grandfather had come here once.
And never returned.
Unfinished Legacy
"I need to go deeper," Duncan said. "There's something beneath even this. The true seal. That's what the Hollowed are coming for."
Kael stepped forward. "Then we hold them off. You finish what your family started."
Brannoc grinned grimly. "One last stand, eh? Better here than in the dark."
Duncan nodded, hand tightening on the Emberblade.
"Then let's light the dark up."