The wind howled as Duncan descended into the heart of the Sentinel vault. The stairwell spiraled downward, carved into basalt and reinforced with veins of ley-silver. Each step echoed with centuries of silence. Behind him followed Alra and Ashryn, their torches casting flickering shadows along the ancient stone.
It had taken the combined force of Tharn's breath and Gorran's engineers to unseal the lower gate. And what waited beyond wasn't simply a forgotten chamber—but a warning. The runes etched into the arch read:
"Vault of Echoes. Authorized Oathbearers Only. Trespassers awaken the breach."
Alra ran her hand along the etched sigils. "This predates the Dominion's founding charter."
Ashryn nodded grimly. "This place was built by the First Sentinels—before the Beast Wars. It was never meant to be found."
And yet, the signal from the Obsidian Vault had activated this one. A pulse that crossed ancient ley-lines. A summons, or perhaps... a challenge.
As the stairs widened into a vast chamber, the darkness gave way to a low, pulsing blue light.
Duncan stepped into a room shaped like a dome, with seven monolithic pillars rising from the stone floor. Between each pillar stood a statue—warriors in archaic Dominion armor, faces covered by full helms. But it was what stood at the center that stole the air from Duncan's lungs.
A sarcophagus, formed from a single piece of obsidian, etched with glowing lines of runes. On its surface: a Dominion crest, fractured down the middle.
Ashryn's voice broke the silence. "The Seven Vows. These are the original oathbound—the first to bind themselves to the Dominion's will."
Alra pointed toward the faintly glowing lines snaking from the sarcophagus to the floor. "These are ley-roots. It's drawing power from deep beneath the mountains."
Duncan stepped forward, drawn to the sarcophagus as if something in it called his blood. The Oathbound Bow pulsed gently on his back.
He placed his hand on the stone.
A voice whispered, not aloud—but inside his mind.
"Oathbearer… Why have you returned?"
Duncan stood still. "To wake what sleeps."
"And if what sleeps should destroy you?"
"Then I'd rather die with truth in my hands than live beneath lies."
The runes flared brighter. Dust lifted from the stone. The sarcophagus shuddered.
Alra stepped forward. "Duncan—something's moving inside."
With a hiss, the lid slid aside.
What lay within wasn't a corpse.
It was a man.
Preserved in armor of darkened silver, his face ageless and expressionless. A circlet rested on his brow, and across his chest lay a long, obsidian blade—its edge thin as breath. But as air touched him, his eyes snapped open.
Ashryn swore. "That's not stasis. That's containment."
The man sat up slowly, looking directly at Duncan. "You bear the mark."
"I do," Duncan said, surprised his voice didn't tremble. "Duncan Caerwyn, Commander of the 7th."
The man rose to his feet, his presence overwhelming. "I am Vaeric. Last of the Bound Kings. I sealed myself here before the rebellion could reach the vault."
"The rebellion?" Alra asked.
Vaeric turned his gaze to her, then to Ashryn. "When the Corpsefire rose, and Dominion turned on itself. I wielded authority no longer accepted. So I came here—to await the one who would bear the oath anew."
Duncan narrowed his eyes. "You knew I would come?"
"Not you." Vaeric's voice was calm. "But one like you. When the world fell to disorder, the ley-bonds would call again. You've answered."
Ashryn's hand hovered over her blade. "And now what?"
Vaeric stepped off the pedestal, his boots striking stone like the tolling of bells. "Now the Dominion must rise again. But it cannot do so as it was. It must evolve. Or perish."
Duncan exhaled. "We've been holding the line at Drehlspire. There's a chance we can reclaim old strongholds. But it won't be easy."
Vaeric's gaze hardened. "The Obsidian Vault should not be open. If it has stirred, then something far older than you or I has begun to move."
He looked at Duncan directly. "The Corpsefire was not extinguished. Only buried."
A tremor rumbled through the vault. Faint at first—but unmistakable.
From the far end of the chamber, a sealed wall cracked. Dust poured from the fissure as the stones trembled.
Duncan turned, drawing his blade. "What is that?"
Ashryn stepped beside him, face pale. "It's not leyfire. It's corpse qi."
The seal exploded.
A wave of black mist burst through, scattering stone and shadow alike. Figures emerged—twisted remnants of Dominion soldiers, long dead, now bound by dark energy. Their armor hung in tatters. Their eyes burned with red sigils.
Vaeric's voice thundered: "They followed me even here."
Duncan nocked an arrow and loosed—striking the first revenant in the chest. It exploded into ash.
"Form ranks!" he shouted. "Protect the vault!"
Ashryn spun her halberd into a glowing arc, cleaving two shadows at once. Alra moved like wind, twin daggers flashing. Vaeric took no weapon—he was the weapon, his mere gesture sending waves of raw force into the enemies.
But there were too many.
Duncan felt the leyfire strain in his blood. "We need to seal it again!"
Vaeric nodded. "Use the Bow. Channel your oath. The ley-line obeys you."
Duncan stood before the open breach. The corpses surged forward.
He closed his eyes. Reached inward. Called on the bow—not just as a weapon—but as a symbol of command.
A final arrow appeared in his hand—gleaming with pure leyfire.
He drew.
A whispered word: "Sunder."
He fired.
The shaft struck the arch of the breach. The entire structure glowed—then collapsed, sealing the breach in a blast of blue light and thunderous roar.
Silence fell once more.
Only the echoes of heartbeats remained.
Vaeric stepped forward, laying a hand on Duncan's shoulder. "You are more than a commander now. You are a Warden of the Deep Oath."
Ashryn sheathed her blade, breathing hard. "Then we'd best find the other Vaults. Before whatever's stirring beneath the world wakes completely."
Duncan looked down at the obsidian fragments, still humming with faint corpse qi.
The war hadn't ended.
It had just gone underground.
And now it was clawing its way back to the surface.