The light from the cocoon's eruption had seared Duncan's vision. Even with his eyes squeezed shut, colors still bloomed across the backs of his lids — violet, crimson, and green, like bleeding fire. The blast had knocked them all to the floor. When his senses returned, it was to a low, pulsing hum that throbbed through the stone beneath him like a heartbeat.
The Maw was awake.
He pushed himself up, coughing as a haze of energy clung to the air — thick like fog but warm, and laced with that same sickly glow from the cocoon. Kaelen was already on his feet, blade drawn, eyes scanning the chamber with military discipline. Alra knelt beside two fallen soldiers, murmuring a healing incantation with her trembling fingers aglow.
And in the center of the chamber, where the cocoon had once pulsed with captive power, now stood a being wrought of flame, steel, and flesh.
It was humanoid in shape — tall, over eight feet — but far from human in presence. Its skin shimmered like obsidian heated to a glow. Wreaths of ghostly fire coiled around its limbs. A crown of molten horns rose from its skull, and its eyes — its eyes were Duncan's.
Or rather… his father's.
"Impossible," Alra whispered. "That thing… it's wearing his soul."
Kaelen spat. "Then let's end him before it becomes something worse."
Duncan raised a hand. "Wait."
The being tilted its head, eyes locking onto Duncan's. There was no madness in its gaze. Only recognition — and hunger.
"You are the spark," it said, its voice layered with echoes. "You carry the shard… and the Dominion's wound."
"What are you?" Duncan asked, though the answer already churned in his gut.
"I am the residue of failure," it replied. "Your father's rage, his will to fight, bound by the ancients when he refused to kneel. They could not kill him. So they sealed the fire inside this husk."
"And now?" Kaelen asked, voice tight.
"Now… I burn again."
It lunged.
The chamber erupted in chaos. Flames exploded outward, licking across the walls and ceiling. Duncan dove left, rolling behind a jut of stone as Kaelen met the creature's charge head-on. Steel clashed against flame-wreathed fists. Sparks flew as Kaelen's sword cut into the creature's side — but it barely flinched. It backhanded him with such force he flew across the room, slamming into a pillar with a grunt.
Alra raised both hands. A barrier of frost bloomed in a dome around Duncan as the creature turned toward him. Her spells fought fire with ice, sizzling where they met, but the beast's presence pushed against her like a crashing tide.
"Duncan!" she shouted. "We can't hold it here!"
Duncan's mind raced. He still held the shard, glowing now with unstable power. The cocoon had consumed it — but it hadn't destroyed it. Something inside him told him the shard had become part of the entity. If that was true, then maybe… maybe he could still control it.
He stepped out from behind the ice dome. "You know me," he said, loud enough to echo. "Then you know what I want. Not destruction. Not power. I want the truth. The Dominion. The path my father never finished."
The creature paused, flames flickering uncertainly.
"You are my blood," it said. "But your path is still chained. As mine was."
Duncan pointed the shard at the ground, the tip glowing with molten runes. "Then help me break it."
The creature studied him again. And then, to everyone's surprise, it dropped to one knee.
A wave of heat rolled outward — not of violence, but of release. The flames died down. The body began to cool, cracks forming along the obsidian surface. Molten essence leaked from its chest, forming a pool that shimmered with dormant runes.
"I am the last fragment," it said. "The fire in the forge. Use me… or seal me forever."
Alra's mouth opened. "Duncan, don't—"
But he was already moving.
He plunged the shard into the pool.
A shockwave tore through the chamber. Runes flared to life along the walls. Chains shattered. The ceiling cracked, and beyond it, a roar echoed through the Maw — deep and old, as if something larger than the mountain itself was stirring.
When the light faded, the creature was gone.
And Duncan stood in its place, the shard now embedded in his forearm, its runes etched into his skin like glowing veins. His eyes burned — not with pain, but clarity.
"I know where the next Vault is," he said.
Kaelen limped toward him. "And I suppose we're just going to walk in and unearth that horror too?"
"No," Duncan said, voice cold. "We're going to reclaim it."
He turned toward the others. Of the twelve they'd brought, five had died — bodies blackened, or crushed by the falling stone. The survivors stared at Duncan with a mixture of awe and fear.
He couldn't blame them. Even he didn't fully know what had changed.
Alra approached, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Your father… whatever he became… you ended it."
Duncan shook his head. "No. I inherited it. Now I need to decide what kind of legacy I'll leave behind."
A distant rumble shook the walls.
Kaelen glanced upward. "We need to move. The Maw won't hold for long."
They turned and climbed back toward the surface, each step heavy with new purpose.
The Dominion wasn't just ancient myth anymore.
It was awakening.