Ronan stood between the two doors, one set into the left wall, the other carved into the right. Both were ancient, their surfaces worn smooth by age, yet neither carried the same feeling. The chamber around them breathed with an oppressive stillness. Dust rested thick across stone shelves and broken pedestals, yet the air itself felt untouched, as though nothing here had moved in centuries.
His gaze drifted across the scattered tomes lining the room. Some lay open on cracked stands, their pages yellowed and curled. Others had collapsed into piles beneath shelves warped by time. A faint scent of dry parchment lingered beneath the damp mineral smell of old stone.
Something about the room pressed against his instincts.
"Let's check the books first," Ronan said, his voice low enough that it barely disturbed the silence. "We should examine everything before choosing a path." He glanced toward Kael. "If there's anything useful, we should bring it back to Sir Alaric."
Kael understood immediately. Without a word, he reached into his cloak and flicked a metallic ring toward Ronan. The ring spun through the dim air. "Storage Ring," Kael said. "Enough space for whatever survives handling."
Then raised his hand. Aether rippled outward in a soft pulse. Two clones materialised beside him. Ronan gives the storage ring to the clone.
They stepped forward without hesitation, already moving with shared understanding. One moved toward the shelves lining the far wall, carefully lifting books free from layers of dust. The other crouched beside broken stacks near the floor, turning pages with quick, efficient precision.
The rest of the group spread out.
Boots scraped softly across stone. Mordek inspected cracks along the walls while Gorvath searched beneath collapsed furniture. Vexara ran her fingers across symbols etched into pillars. Lirith moved in silence, eyes scanning every corner with practised caution.
The room carried a strange quiet. Kael closed his eyes. Aether spread from him in faint waves, subtle enough that the air barely shifted. For several seconds, no one spoke. Then his eyes opened. "The left door was sealed," he said.
Everyone looked toward him. "The seal's broken now." His gaze shifted toward the other entrance. "The right door has no traces of one ever existing."
Ronan looked at the unsealed door. A choice made itself. "Then we start there."
He approached slowly. The stone felt colder near the entrance. Dust gathered thickly around the frame, undisturbed except for faint cracks spidering through the floor beneath it.
Ronan placed his hand against the surface. The door resisted for a moment before giving way with a grinding groan. The sound echoed through the chamber. As the entrance opened, pale light flared along the walls inside. Runes awakened one after another. Soft illumination spilt across the room beyond.
Ronan stepped through first. The air changed instantly. Heavier. The chamber stretched wider than expected, its ceiling lost in shadow. Silence sat thick inside it, swallowing even the sound of breathing.
Ancient metal shackles remained embedded in stone, their chains twisted and blackened with age. Faint runes still glowed beneath layers of corrosion, pulsing weakly like dying embers.
Kael crouched beside one. His fingers traced along the markings. "I'm copying these," he said quietly. "They may explain what happened here."
Ronan continued deeper into the room. His boots disturbed dust that rose in thin clouds around his ankles. The smell struck him slowly. Dry decay. Something stale enough to cling to the back of his throat. The dust unsettled him. Not because of how much there was. Because of how unevenly it settled. His eyes moved toward a tall cabinet standing against the far wall.
Unlike everything else, it remained upright. Intact. He approached cautiously and pulled it open. The hinges creaked softly. Inside hung folded garments. Perfectly preserved. No moth damage. No discolouration.
Ronan frowned. "Impossible…" He reached forward. The instant his fingers neared the cloth, he felt it. A faint pulse of Aether. Protection enchantments. Still functioning after countless years. Then something shifted in his awareness. A feeling. A subtle wrongness behind him. His breath caught. He turned slightly. And froze.
A body lying upside down behind him. A woman. Shackled by wrists and ankles. Her skin had dried tightly over bone, paper-thin and cracked, barely holding shape. Strands of brittle hair clung to her skull. Her head hung low, unmoving.
Ronan's stomach tightened. He had walked past this spot. He knew he had. "How had I missed her?" His pulse slowed. Cold crawled across his spine. "Was she always there?" He opened his mouth to call the others.
A voice interrupted him. "Do not touch my mother." The words scraped through the silence. Thin. Dry. Hollow.
Ronan spun.
A child stood near the edge of the chamber. Small. His body looked starved beyond recognition. Skin stretched over bone. Hollow sockets stared from a face that should not have moved. Yet he stood. And then he lunged.
Ronan barely raised his arms. The impact slammed into him like a battering ram. Pain shot through both forearms as his boots tore across stone. He slid backwards several meters before stopping. Dust exploded beneath him.
The others turned sharply. "What the—?" Kael's hand snapped toward his weapon.
The boy attacked again. Too fast. Too violent. He struck Mordek first. Then Gorvath. Vexara stumbled sideways from a blow to her shoulder. Lirith twisted away but still caught a strike that sent her skidding.
Kael blocked one attack but staggered backwards under the force. The strength felt wrong. Nothing childlike remained in those movements.
Ronan lowered his arms slowly. They trembled. He stared at the boy. No killing intent. No Malice. Only something rawer. The child couldn't have been older than five. But burned into his chest was a twisted brand. Dark. Corrupted. Pulsing faintly beneath dead flesh. The same cursed mark. The same one they had seen on the Doomscale Lizard. Ronan's chest tightened.
"Why…?" The boy struck again. "Why did you leave us here?!" His voice cracked. Fists swung wildly. "Why didn't anyone come?!" He attacked again. Each strike came without rhythm. Not combat. Desperation. "What were the experiments for?!" His breathing fractured. "What did they want from us?!" Another swing. "Why were we abandoned?!"
Kael parried a strike. His expression hardened. "He's lost himself."
Mordek narrowly avoided another hit. "No," Mordek muttered. "Not completely."
The boy rushed again. This time, Ronan caught the punch. Small dried fingers dug into his arm. The force behind it vibrated through bone. Ronan held firm. "We don't know who did this to you," he said quietly. The boy struggled. "But we'll find out." Ronan's grip loosened. "You deserve answers." His gaze shifted briefly toward the lying woman. "So does she."
The child froze. His shoulders shook. Slowly, he stepped backwards. "They said…" His voice faltered. "They said they would come back…" His head lowered. "They promised…" The room felt impossibly quiet. "I was hungry…" The boy's voice grew smaller. "Mama gave me the last ration…" His hands trembled. "She told me to stay strong…" His mouth opened, but the words came unevenly. "I was scared…"
Ronan slowly lowered himself. One knee touched the ground. He set his weapon aside. The scrape of metal echoed softly. "You were a child," Ronan said. His voice barely rose above a whisper. "You shouldn't have been left here."
The boy flickered. Aether shimmered through his body like unstable light trapped beneath glass.
Ronan felt his chest tighten. Not alive. Not gone. Bound. Held together by something unfinished. The cursed mark pulsed brighter.
"Ronan!" Mordek's voice cut sharply through the chamber. "Are you insane?!"
Ronan didn't move.
"He cannot understand you."
The boy raised his arm again. But hesitated.
Ronan looked toward Kael. "There has to be something," he said. "A way to save him."
The child stopped completely.
Kael stared at him. His jaw tightened. "We are not gods." The words landed heavily. His voice lowered. "Death doesn't reverse itself." He stepped closer. "There are ways to bind souls." His expression darkened. "To imprison them. To turn them into servants." He looked directly at Ronan. "Is that what you want?"
Ronan turned back toward the child. His thoughts raced. "Sir Alaric. The Light Goddess. Life."
"Sir Alaric could help," Ronan said quickly. "He serves the Goddess of Life. There has to be—"
"RONAN!" Kael's voice cracked through the room. Silence followed. Then quieter— "We are too late." Kael exhaled slowly. "The only mercy left… is freedom."
The child laughed. The sound was soft. Strangely calm. "Mama," he said. His head tilted. "They're right." He looked directly at Ronan. "Ronan really is naive." The room went still. "He doesn't know how to stop feeling."
Ronan's breath caught.
"He sensed I carried no Malice…" The boy smiled faintly. "And he began holding back."
Something shifted behind them. Chains creaked. Metal groaned softly. The woman stirred. Slowly. The movement sent dust falling from her body. "I never expected…" she whispered, voice thin as dried paper, "to meet a soul like yours." Her sightless gaze found Ronan.
His chest tightened. The others raised their weapons immediately. The woman looked toward Mordek, Gorvath, Vexara, and Lirith. "You four carry demon blood." Her chains rattled softly. "I am also demon-born." Light gathered around her dried husk fingertips. Four glowing fragments drifted outward. Each entered one of them silently. The moment the lights disappeared, their bodies stiffened slightly. The energy settled deep within.
The woman turned back toward Ronan. "I have nothing left to offer you."Her hands tightened weakly against the chains. "Only gratitude." Her voice weakened. "And a request." She looked toward the child. The boy stood quietly now. No anger. Only exhaustion. "These chains bind us here." Her fingers curled around rusted metal. "If we can still enter the cycle of reincarnation…" Her head lowered. "Please." The word barely escaped her. "If not for me… then for my child." She looked toward him. "I want him to see a world kinder than this one." Her voice trembled. "We are tired of hurting." The chains rattled softly as she bowed her head.
Ronan's vision blurred. Warmth slid down his cheek. He didn't wipe it away. Kael stepped forward. "We'll help," he said. His voice remained steady. "But first, we need answers."
The woman nodded faintly. "Ask."
Kael folded his arms. "What is this place?"
The woman remained silent for several moments. Then, "This facility belonged to the capital of Solmaris." Dust shifted faintly around her. "It existed in secret." Her voice grew distant. "Humans live short lives." She looked toward the demons. "Demons possess limited Aether reserves." Her fingers twitched against the chains. "They wanted to erase weakness." The room fell silent again. "Experiments," she whispered. "Endless experiments."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "And how do we leave?" "The other room." Her gaze drifted vaguely toward the exit. "There is a teleportation circle." She paused. "I believe it still works."
Kael nodded slowly. "One last question." His eyes sharpened. "How do you know us? And who did you mean when you said, 'They said Ronan is naive'?"
The woman hesitated. "I can observe what happens within this caravan." Her voice softened.
"As for what I said…"
She stopped. Something unreadable passed across her expression. "I cannot tell you yet." Her head lowered slightly. "You will understand soon." Silence settled again.