As Kael absorbed the Aether Crystals, pale currents of energy drifted around him in slow spirals, rising and falling with each measured breath. The faint glow reflected across his still face, casting soft light over the chamber's rough stone walls. The clone remained beside him without movement, silent and vigilant, watching over his body like a guardian carved from patience itself.
Ronan glanced toward the remaining unopened door. The heavy door sat untouched in the shadows, its iron edges darkened with age. "How about we check the other door?" he asked, turning toward Mordek.
Mordek gave a short nod. "We shouldn't leave unknown territory behind us." He shifted his attention toward the others. "I'll check the next room with Ronan. You two stay here. Watch over them. Keep everyone safe." The instructions were simple, but the weight behind them lingered. No one argued.
Ronan followed Mordek toward the left-side chamber. The closer they came, the colder the air became. Dust clung to the silence. Even their footsteps seemed quieter here, swallowed by stone and old neglect.
They stopped before the door. For a moment, neither moved. The atmosphere felt wrong—heavy in a way that settled beneath the skin.
Mordek stepped forward first. "Let's go."
Ronan gave a small nod and pressed his palm against the door.
The hinges groaned softly as it opened. Darkness waited inside. Unlike the previous chambers, no automatic illumination greeted their arrival. The room felt abandoned by light itself. A luminous crystal materialised above Mordek's palm. He fed Aether into it, and bluish light spilt outward in slow waves, pushing against the black. The room emerged piece by piece.
Broken chairs lay overturned. Splintered tables collapsed beneath dust and rot. Rusted iron shackles hung from fractured wall mounts, their rune-etched surfaces cracked and dead. Fragments of chain littered the floor like brittle bones.
The destruction did not look random. It looked violent. Something had fought here. Or suffered here. The smell carried faint traces of rust and old decay, dry enough to sting the throat.
Mordek narrowed his eyes. His perception skill expanded quietly through the room. Invisible currents brushed against his awareness. Something concealed beneath layers of old magic. He walked slowly toward the far wall, stopping before a stone that appeared no different from the rest. His hand pressed against it. Cold. A subtle vibration pulsed beneath his palm. "There's something behind this," Mordek said.
Ronan approached immediately. "A hidden chamber?"
Mordek nodded once. "Sealed."
They inspected the wall carefully, fingers tracing cracks, searching for irregularities.
Ronan frowned. Then a worn leather-bound book materialised in his hand.
Mordek glanced at it briefly. "You've seen something?"
"I think so." Ronan flipped quickly through the pages. Dusty diagrams passed beneath his eyes until he stopped abruptly. "Here." He angled the book toward Mordek.
A circular pattern filled the page—layers of runes interconnected through branching channels. "There's an Aether-reactive seal embedded beside the wall," Ronan said, tracing the diagram with his finger. "But it requires a specific Aether signature."
Mordek's gaze sharpened.
Ronan exhaled through his nose. "That's a problem. Every person's Aether signature is unique. Without the original caster's essence…" His voice trailed. The answer was obvious. No key. No entry.
Ronan folded his arms, staring at the wall. "What if we just break through?"
Mordek leaned closer to the book. The old runes were unfamiliar, but not impossible. "I know a little about magic arrays," he murmured. "Maybe enough to reverse it."
Ronan stepped back slightly, gesturing toward the wall. "Then the door's all yours, sir."
Mordek crouched near the hidden seal. Thin threads of Aether extended from his fingertips, weaving carefully through invisible structures beneath the stone. The process was slow. Precise. One mistake could collapse the array—or trigger something worse.
Ronan remained nearby, watching. The silence stretched. Then a thought surfaced. "Sir," Ronan said quietly, "I still don't understand something."
Mordek continued working.
"The woman… she could break the magic seal on the sword. So why wait this long?"
Mordek did not look up. His fingers continued tracing invisible lines. "That chain you destroyed wasn't ordinary." His voice came slowly. "It wasn't made to imprison the body. It was made to preserve the soul."
Ronan frowned.
Mordek continued. "If a soul lingers too long without release, corruption begins. Slowly at first. Then completely." The crystal light flickered faintly against his face. "She needed someone capable of killing them properly."
Ronan lowered his eyes. "They weren't truly alive anymore."
"No," Mordek said quietly. "Only souls trapped inside dried husks."
The room fell silent again. Ronan swallowed. "Thank you, sir."
Several long minutes passed.
Then—
Click. Soft. Precise.
The hidden seal unravelled. Stone shifted inward with a slow hiss. Dust spilt from ancient seams. The concealed door opened.
Mordek guided the floating crystal into the darkness beyond. The light entered first.\ Then the room revealed itself. Small. Claustrophobic.
The walls felt too close together. The air was wrong. Rotten. And the moment they crossed the threshold—
A violent wave of Aether struck them. Ronan staggered. The world tilted. Memories exploded through his mind. Not his own. Screams. Blood running along carved ritual circles. Hands clawing at restraints. Bodies collapsing. Agony layered upon agony. Fragments slammed into his thoughts without order. A woman screaming until her voice broke. Pleading. Begging. Hopelessness so deep it felt endless.
Mordek stiffened beside him. Even he recoiled. His jaw tightened. "How far can people fall in pursuit of power?" he thought bitterly. He had seen cruelty. Wars.
But this—
This carried intention. Deliberate suffering. Measured pain. Something crafted by hands that no longer remembered mercy. He turned quickly toward Ronan.
Ronan stood frozen. His breathing had become uneven. Aether spiralled wildly beneath his skin, flickering visibly along his arms in unstable pulses. Sweat rolled down his temple. His gaze unfocused.
Mordek felt it immediately. The mental barrier around Ronan—the complex structure he had never been able to understand—was weakening. Cracking. "Ronan," Mordek said, his voice calm and steady. "Focus."
The sound reached him. Slowly, Ronan raised his head. His eyes found Mordek. For a moment, something unspoken passed between them. Gratitude. His breathing steadied. The chaotic Aether gradually settled. The pressure eased. But not completely. Then the screaming returned. Louder. Closer. The sound did not enter through their ears. It pressed directly into the mind.
A thousand fractured voices layered together. Crying. Whispering. Begging. The air thickened. Cold slid along Ronan's spine. Their eyes adjusted further into the darkness.
And then—
They saw it. Floating. A grotesque shape suspended in midair. No legs. No grounding. Only a twisted torso hanging in the void like a corpse forgotten between worlds. Its body looked translucent, like cracked glass filled with smoke. Faces moved beneath the surface. Dozens. Maybe hundreds. Distorted expressions surfaced and disappeared in rapid flashes—mouths stretched in silent screams, eyes widened in unbearable terror. Grey strands drifted from its form like drowned hair suspended underwater.
Its eyes burned red. Not glowing. Bleeding light. Its fingers bent unnaturally, elongated into hooked claws dripping thick black fluid that evaporated before touching the floor. Its mouth—
No. There was no mouth. Only a jagged slit. Yet the whispers came from everywhere. A nightmare given shape.
Ronan instinctively stepped backwards. The cold reached his bones. "Vengeful Spirit…?" he muttered, voice strained. "This will be troublesome."
Mordek's grip tightened around the hilt of his heavy blade. His expression hardened. "No." His eyes never left the creature. "This is not a Vengeful Spirit." He inhaled slowly. "This is a Hollowed Spirit."
Ronan turned sharply. "Hollowed Spirit?"
Mordek nodded once. "It has no soul." His voice remained low. "What you're seeing is condensed emotion. Rage. Grief. Hatred. Suffering without identity."
Ronan swallowed. The thing tilted its head. "Sir…" Ronan said quietly. "Can we even kill it?"
"Yes."
The answer came without hesitation. "There's nothing to purify. No consciousness to save." Lightning flickered faintly around Mordek's fingers. "We destroy it. That's the only option."
Ronan nodded. He turned immediately and shut the hidden door behind them. Stone slammed into place. The sound echoed heavily.
Ronan faced Mordek again. "I don't know anything about these spirits," he admitted. "I only have Flame magic. I'll follow your lead."
Mordek glanced at him. A single-element user. He dismissed the thought immediately. This was not the time for judgment. "Listen carefully," Mordek said. His tone sharpened. "Hollowed Spirits ignore physical attacks. Blades pass through them. Arrows. Fists. Worthless." He lifted his sword slightly. "Only elemental attacks can damage them." The spirit drifted closer.
"And even then," Mordek continued, "they resist most elements. Light works best. Without Light, you'll burn more Aether for less damage."
Ronan processed every word. His grip tightened around his sword. "So it becomes a battle of endurance." His eyes were fixed on the spirit. "My Aether against its existence."
Mordek's mouth curved faintly. A grim acknowledgement. Lightning surged into his palm. He drew the steel longsword from his backCrackling Aether raced across the blade like living veins. Without warning—
He lunged. The sword carved through the air. Lightning exploded outward. The strike tore across the spirit's body. A violent shriek burst through the chamber. "Ronan!" Mordek called. "Ever fought something like this?"
Ronan shook his head. "First time." "Then watch carefully." Mordek moved again.
His voice remained steady even as combat began. "The fear is what kills people first." He ducked beneath a sweeping claw. "Not the spirit." Lightning burst upward. "These things invade your thoughts. Stay exposed too long, and your mind won't remain your own." The Hollowed Spirit twisted unnaturally. Its body bent backwards before snapping forward.
Mordek stepped aside. "Doubt. Paranoia. Madness." He struck again. "If you ever face multiple Hollowed Spirits—run." The command landed heavily. "Do not play hero."
Ronan nodded. "Yes, sir."
The spirit shrieked. Its body rippled. Dark smoke stretched outward— Then split. Another form emerged. A second Hollowed Spirit floated free. Mordek's expression darkened. "Damn." The pressure in the room doubled instantly. The whispers intensified. Two spirits circled him. Ronan activated his perception skill. The world sharpened.
He watched the movement.
One spirit drifted behind Mordek.
Silent.
Claws raised.
"Sir!"
Ronan moved instantly. His sword left its sheath. Flame Aether surged along the blade. Heat rolled outward. The metal glowed red. He gathered more Aether. "Blazing Strike!"
A roaring crescent of flame erupted forward. The fire slammed into the spirit's side. The creature staggered violently midair. Its form is distorted.
The shriek that followed scraped against Ronan's skull.
He stepped forward. "I'll assist!"
Mordek glanced briefly toward him. Not reckless. Good timing. Good awareness. "We can't let this drag on," Mordek said. Lightning crackled violently around his blade. "Watch my rhythm." He shifted his stance. "Strike when I create openings."