The air grew colder the deeper they went, until each breath came out in pale mist. The walls here were not like the rough stone above—they were carved, ancient, covered in spiraling patterns that seemed to shift when Rondan looked too long.
Their footsteps echoed in the silence, the only sound in a place that felt untouched for centuries.
Leina walked ahead, lantern in hand. Her voice was low, as if afraid the walls themselves were listening.
"Most who enter this far never return. The catacombs aren't just tombs… they're a vault."
"A vault for what?" Rondan asked, eyes scanning every shadow.
She stopped before a vast door of black stone, inlaid with veins of glowing silver. The patterns pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat.
"For something the Crimson Veil has been trying to find for decades."
The door wasn't locked by chains or bolts—it had no handles at all. Instead, at its center was a shallow depression shaped like a human hand, surrounded by runes that shimmered with faint light.
Rondan frowned. "What happens if someone touches it?"
Leina's gaze lingered on the handprint. "Only the Chosen can open it."
Before he could speak, a deep, resonant hum filled the corridor. The runes brightened, one by one, in a sequence that rippled outward from the center.
Rondan stepped back. "That's not me."
"No," Leina said sharply, drawing her dagger. "They're here."
From the darkness behind them, the sound of footsteps emerged—slow, deliberate, and too steady to belong to the guards they'd fought earlier.
A figure appeared, his mask unlike the others—shaped like a snarling beast, eyes glowing with ember light. He stopped before the door, the runes flaring as if recognizing him.
The figure's voice was low, rumbling like distant thunder.
"The Heart of Ash will awaken… and you will both witness it."
The black stone began to split down the middle, silver light spilling through the cracks.
Leina cursed under her breath. "Rondan… whatever's in there… we can't let him reach it."