The tunnel behind them felt longer than before.
Their footsteps echoed faintly, bouncing off the cold walls like whispers that didn't belong to them. Each sound came back softer… slower… almost like the cavern itself was breathing with them.
Alaric tightened his grip on his staff. The faint silver glow that clung to his hair was fading, though a few strands still shimmered under the weak light of the moss. His steps were steady, but his mind wasn't.
The pulse from the Heart Below still lingered somewhere in the distance — faint, uneven, but alive.
Ryn walked beside him, holding his short spear close. His face looked tense, but his eyes darted around with restless curiosity.
"So… that was real, right?" he asked, his voice echoing down the tunnel.
Alaric didn't slow down. "If it wasn't, then I really want to stop hallucinating glowing puddles that talk."
Ryn huffed. "You make it sound like that's normal."
"I mean…" Alaric glanced up, lips twitching. "We did find an undead butler in the woods when I was still in diapers. My standard for normal's been broken for years."
Ryn blinked. "…Right. Forgot who I was talking to."
Kael led them ahead, steps silent despite his size. His hand rested on the hilt of his weapon, shoulders tense. "It wasn't an illusion," he said without turning. "I felt it. That thing's mana was real — and it recognized Ashen."
Alaric's head turned slightly, eyes drifting toward the tall figure walking behind them.
Ashen moved like a shadow — graceful, precise, and eerily calm. His coat brushed softly against the rock, the faint scent of old fabric and dust following in his wake. His silver-gray eyes were distant, unreadable.
He hadn't said a word since the entity vanished.
Alaric slowed down, falling in step beside him. "You okay?"
Ashen blinked once, his expression calm as always. "I am."
"You don't sound like it," Alaric muttered.
For a moment, silence. Then Ashen said quietly, "It was… unexpected."
"Yeah," Alaric sighed. "Turns out your mysterious undead dad might've been a pond."
A faint, almost invisible curve touched Ashen's lips. Not quite a smile, but close enough.
"Perhaps," he said.
Ryn looked over, raising an eyebrow. "You two talk like this is normal."
"It kind of is," Alaric said with a small grin. "You get used to cryptic after a while."
Ryn stared. "…I don't think I want to."
Kael suddenly raised his hand. "Quiet."
Everyone froze.
The tunnel ahead widened into a cavern — smaller than the Heart Below, but strange. The air shimmered faintly, like heat over desert sand.
Alaric's eyes narrowed. "You feel that?"
Kael nodded once. "Something's wrong."
Ashen stepped forward, voice low. "No… not wrong. Old."
They entered cautiously. The cavern's ceiling arched high above them, every wall covered in faint carvings. In the center stood a ring of standing stones, each marked with shifting runes that flickered between green and gray — alive one moment, lifeless the next.
The light painted their faces in soft, haunting colors.
Alaric's chest tightened. "It's reacting to us."
Ashen's eyes gleamed faintly in the light. "No. It's reacting to you."
Before Alaric could respond, the runes flared.
The glow spread outward, flooding the cavern with brilliant light — and then the ground vanished.
Alaric stumbled, blinking as the world around him melted away. The stone floor turned smooth, reflective — like water. Above them stretched a mirrored sky that shimmered with faint color.
They weren't standing in the ruin anymore.
"An illusion?" Ryn whispered.
Ashen shook his head slowly. "No. An echo. A memory left behind."
Kael's hand went to his sword. "So we're inside a memory."
"Yes," Ashen said, his voice calm but sharp. "One preserved by mana. It may show what happened here… long ago."
The light around them shifted again.
Figures began to appear across the mirrored plain — dozens of silhouettes made of faint light and shadow. They moved like people, wearing long robes, carrying staffs carved with twin emblems: one of growth, one of decay.
Alaric's breath caught.
At the center stood two figures. One had white hair like his, bright and untamed. The other's hair was black, streaked faintly with silver.
Ryn whispered, "They look like—"
"—us," Alaric finished, his voice low.
The white-haired figure raised a hand, calling forth a sphere of light. The dark-haired one mirrored the motion, summoning shadow. The two spheres spun together — light and dark, life and death — forming something that pulsed like a heartbeat.
And then the sky began to tremble.
The fusion of light and darkness pulsed faster, brighter — the two energies twisting against each other like living things.
The two figures — the white-haired one and the dark-haired one — strained to hold the balance, arms outstretched. The light between them rippled violently, spilling waves of mana that made the ground quake beneath Alaric's feet.
He gritted his teeth, gripping his staff tightly. "This doesn't feel like a memory anymore…"
Ashen's expression darkened. "No. It's becoming unstable."
Kael instinctively stepped in front of the group, hand on his sword, though there was nothing to fight — not yet. "Can it hurt us?"
"It can," Ashen said simply. "If the mana bursts—"
The explosion came before he finished.
A thunderous shockwave burst outward, throwing everyone off balance. The mirrored ground cracked, fracturing into shards of light that floated upward like broken glass. The sky tore open in veins of gold and black.
Alaric stumbled, his boots skidding against the slick surface. He caught himself with his staff, barely holding steady. "You weren't kidding!"
All around them, the glowing figures disintegrated — dissolving into drifting particles. Their voices echoed faintly, not in words but in feelings: sorrow, regret, pleading.
And then—
"Hold it together!" shouted a voice that wasn't theirs.
It came from the two figures at the center. Their mana collided again, a desperate attempt to restore the balance. Light and dark entwined, spiraling upward, consuming the entire illusion.
Alaric's eyes widened. He could feel it — the pulse of life and death, perfectly equal, perfectly destructive.
It was the same as the surge he once created as a child… only far stronger.
He froze. "They're doing what I did…"
Ashen turned to him sharply. "No. What you attempted. They completed it — and paid the price."
The two figures reached for each other. Their hands nearly touched—
Then the world shattered.
The explosion was blinding, colorless, silent. The force threw Alaric backward, tumbling across the mirrored surface until he hit what felt like stone. The echo swallowed everything — light, air, even sound.
And then, just as suddenly, it stopped.
When Alaric blinked his eyes open, the mirrored plain was gone. The cavern had returned. The ring of runes was dim once again, the light barely clinging to the carvings.
Ryn was still on the ground, panting. Kael stood over him, scanning the area with cautious eyes. Ashen, as always, was composed — though faint dust clung to his coat.
"…What was that?" Ryn asked weakly.
Kael exhaled through his nose. "A warning. Or a memory of failure."
Alaric didn't move. He stared at the runes, his chest rising and falling slowly.
He could still feel it — the pulse, the heat of that unstable mana, the way it felt to lose control.
He swallowed hard. "They tried to merge life and death… and it destroyed everything."
Ashen nodded once, quietly. "The ancients who built this place sought balance — true, eternal balance. But the forces they wielded were never meant to coexist so perfectly."
"So… they blew themselves up?" Ryn asked hesitantly.
"In a sense," Ashen replied. "And sealed their failure within the Heart Below."
Alaric closed his eyes. The faint gold glow beneath his lids flickered with emotion — something sharp, cold, and heavy.
"So that's what the Heart wants from me."
Ashen turned to him. "It called to you because you carry both mana flows. Life and death coexist within you. It seeks balance once again — through you."
Alaric let out a weak laugh. "Right. So I'm supposed to finish what those ancient geniuses couldn't? Yeah, no pressure."
Ryn let out a small snort. "You're the chosen one, remember?"
"Chosen ones die first," Alaric muttered.
That got a faint chuckle out of Kael. "You'll live. You're too stubborn to do otherwise."
"Flattering," Alaric said dryly.
The moment lingered — a rare break in the tension — before Ashen straightened, glancing toward the tunnel they came from.
"This place isn't safe anymore," he said. "The mana has shifted. Others may sense it."
Kael nodded, already moving. "Then we move before something does."
Ryn pushed himself up with a groan. "Ugh, I liked it better when our biggest problem was bad soup."
Alaric smirked faintly. "You and me both."
As they started toward the exit, Alaric slowed down. He turned back one last time, eyes resting on the dim ring of stones.
For just a heartbeat, one of the runes flickered gold.
It pulsed once. Then faded.
Like it was breathing.
Or remembering.
Alaric felt the faint hum inside his chest respond — that same intertwined rhythm of life and death.
He whispered under his breath, "…Guess this isn't over yet."
Ashen's voice came softly from behind him. "It never is."
Alaric smiled faintly, almost tiredly. "Yeah. Figures."
He turned away from the runes and followed the others back into the tunnel.
Behind them, deep within the stone, something stirred — a faint vibration, like a heartbeat too far away to hear.
The Heart Below was waking up again.
The sound of their footsteps echoed again — soft, uneven, too human against the silence that followed.
No one spoke as they made their way back through the tunnel. The air felt heavier now, thicker with mana that hadn't been there before. Every breath carried the taste of dust and something older — something alive.
Alaric's staff clicked lightly against the stone with each step. His arms ached faintly, his mana felt drained, but his mind wouldn't quiet.
That vision hadn't just been an illusion. It moved like memory — like truth that time hadn't managed to bury.
He could still see it when he blinked: the two figures, the light and shadow colliding, the way their hands reached for each other and missed.
"Balance…" he whispered to himself.
Ryn's voice broke the quiet. "You say something?"
"Nothing," Alaric muttered quickly.
Ryn didn't push, but the boy's eyes lingered a moment longer before looking ahead again.
Kael walked at the front, steady as ever. His steps didn't falter, but the set of his shoulders was different — tighter, like he was thinking hard about what they'd just seen.
Behind them, Ashen's silent presence filled the air like a shadow. His gaze never left Alaric for long, though his expression stayed calm. There was something in that calmness though — a quiet unease that even he couldn't quite hide.
They reached the fork where the tunnel split — one path leading deeper, the other back toward the upper ruins.
Kael didn't hesitate. "Up. We're done here."
"Can't argue with that," Ryn said quickly, adjusting his grip on his spear. "If this place collapses, I'm haunting you."
"Try it," Alaric muttered, lips twitching. "You'll have to compete with the guy already doing it."
Ashen raised an eyebrow but said nothing. The faintest flicker of amusement crossed his eyes, gone in an instant.
As they began the climb back up, the faint hum of the Heart Below followed them — softer, slower, but still there.
Like a pulse.
Like a breath that refused to stop.
Alaric slowed for just a moment and looked back over his shoulder.
The passage behind them glowed faintly, the light fading into darkness. He could almost imagine that the ruin was watching them leave — silent, waiting.
Waiting for what, he didn't know.
But he could feel it.
Something had changed.
The balance had shifted.
Ashen's voice drifted softly from ahead. "Do not dwell on it, Alaric."
He blinked, looking up. "How do you always know what I'm thinking?"
"Because I've seen that expression before," Ashen said quietly, eyes forward. "The look of someone who thinks the world expects too much of him."
Alaric huffed, trying to sound casual. "Yeah, well, the world can take a number. I'm still catching up."
"You always were slow to rest," Ashen murmured.
"I prefer the term strategic pacing."
A soft chuckle — the kind that didn't quite sound like laughter, but close enough.
They reached the upper cavern before long, and the faint cool breeze from the forest washed over them, cutting through the thick air of the ruins.
Ryn stretched his arms out and sighed dramatically. "I swear, if I never see another glowing wall again, I'll die happy."
Kael gave him a tired look. "Don't say that in a place like this."
"Right. Bad luck," Ryn muttered quickly, patting the wall for good measure.
Alaric smiled faintly at the exchange. Despite the weight in his chest, the banter made it easier to breathe.
But when he glanced back one final time toward the depths they'd left behind, his smile faded.
Down there, deep below the surface, he could still feel it — the faint thrum of the Heart Below, pulsing in time with his own.
It wasn't calling this time.
It was waiting.
He tightened his grip on his staff.
"…Not yet," he murmured under his breath. "Not again."
Ashen's voice came from beside him — calm, knowing. "It will, eventually."
"Yeah," Alaric said softly, his golden eyes reflecting the faint green glow of the cavern. "And when it does… I'll be ready."
They stepped out of the ruin, back into the cool, misty light of the forest.
The air outside was still, but not quiet.
Leaves rustled faintly in the wind. The trees swayed, slow and deliberate.
And somewhere deeper in the forest — faint, almost too soft to hear — something pulsed in answer.
A low hum.
A heartbeat.
The Heart Below wasn't the only thing that had awakened.