They walked until the trees no longer spoke.
Until the wind itself stilled, uncertain.
Lucian led the way, torch in one hand, Kyrell's pulse in the other. The forest grew denser the farther they moved from the northern ridge, where the old rivers had dried and the stars above seemed to falter behind clouded skies.
They reached the cliffs at dusk. And beyond them, a gate—hidden not by spell or steel, but time.
"The Forgotten Halls," Lucian whispered.
Kyrell stared at the broken stonework, the symbols half-swallowed by moss and ruin. "We're not supposed to be here."
"No," Lucian murmured. "But neither were we supposed to survive."
He ran his hand across the carvings—ancient glyphs that burned faintly beneath his touch. The stones pulsed once, as if recognizing the blood in his veins. Then, groaning like the earth itself weeping, the door opened.
They descended into darkness.
---
Beneath the earth…
The air smelled of dust and memory. A vast chamber opened before them, walls lined with forgotten relics, broken thrones, and flickering remnants of enchantments too old to name.
And then, from the silence—
A voice.
"How long has it been since one of you came below?"
Lucian turned. Kyrell stiffened.
From the shadows emerged a figure—half-man, half-statue. Skin cracked like marble, eyes glowing like coal left too long in grief.
"You wear a familiar scent," the being said to Lucian. "But he..."
He looked to Kyrell and paused. Then bowed.
"...he is not what he once was."
Lucian stepped forward, protective. "We come seeking refuge. Knowledge. Anything that will keep him safe."
The statue-man chuckled, deep and low. "There is no safety here, only truth. And truth has always been the cruelest shelter."
---
Meanwhile… aboveground
Ray knelt before the council, eyes narrow.
"We lost them again," he spat.
Renak didn't flinch. "They've gone underground. Into the ruins. Let them wander. Let them feel safe."
Silas folded his arms. "And what of Mara?"
"Unstable," Ray muttered. "But useful. If we bait her right."
Renak nodded slowly. "Then begin. Because the next time we strike, it won't be with threats…"
He placed a blade on the table.
"…it will be with blood."
---
Below...
Kyrell moved through the Forgotten Halls like a ghost remembering itself. Visions flickered against the walls—children screaming, fire raining, a man with silver eyes begging for forgiveness before his body became ash.
"I was here," Kyrell whispered. "Once."
Lucian turned. "When?"
"I don't know. Before names. Before me."
Lucian reached for him, but Kyrell stepped away.
"It's changing me again. This place. The truth I've buried."
Lucian's voice cracked. "Then let it come."
Kyrell turned, finally meeting his gaze. "Would you still want me—if I wasn't just a boy in the woods, but a god drowned in violence?"
Lucian didn't hesitate.
"I'd want you still. Even if it ruins me."
---