The ruin had always felt wrong. From the moment they stepped across its broken threshold, the air had carried a weight no wind could lift—a pressure that gnawed at thought and breath alike. Now, that weight had turned unbearable.
Kaelen lay sprawled on the fractured stone, his body convulsing with light. It poured from his eyes in violent bursts, not warm like sunlight nor fierce like flame, but cold—an unearthly brilliance that seared the senses. It splintered across the chamber, illuminating broken pillars and cracked walls, turning shadow into knives of white.
Elian stumbled back, shielding his face. The glow burned his vision, but it wasn't just brightness—it was power, vast and raw, leaking out of Kaelen like a dam breaking. "Kaelen!" he shouted, voice cracking. "Stop! You'll tear yourself apart!"
But Kaelen didn't respond. His back arched, mouth open in a voiceless cry. When sound finally came, it wasn't his voice at all.
"Chains break. Shadows feed. The Hollow breathes."
The words vibrated through the chamber, not spoken but declared by something vast, something that lived inside the light. Lyra's bowstring creaked as she drew an arrow, her sharp eyes narrowing, though the tremor in her fingers betrayed unease. Seren's dagger gleamed in her hand, but she tilted her head like a predator sizing prey, fascinated more than afraid.
Then came the scrape.
At first, Elian thought it was stone shifting under the ruin's weight. But no—it was deliberate. A dragging, grinding sound, as if something massive clawed its way across the floor. From the corridor of darkness, it emerged.
The creature was wrong.
It towered above them, its body a mockery of form. Skin—or what imitated skin—hung loose, gray and wet, sagging as if it had been stitched together too late. Its limbs were long, bending with too many joints, moving with the twitchy speed of a spider and the weight of a giant. Its face was no face at all, only stretched flesh—smooth and blank—until it split open into a mouth far too wide, filled with glistening rows of teeth like shards of glass.
It inhaled. The sound was wet, ragged, endless. Dust, grit, even loose stones dragged across the floor toward it, pulled by the hunger of its breath.
Lyra loosed her arrow. The shaft flew true, burying itself in the creature's chest. It staggered, but only slightly, and then tilted its head in a slow, jerking motion, the arrow sliding out as though the wound refused to exist.
Elian's gut turned cold.
Seren laughed, a low and unsettling sound. "Finally," she murmured. "Something worth killing."
The creature lunged.
It moved impossibly fast for its size, limbs scraping the walls as it charged. Elian barely raised a barrier of fractured aether before the swipe of its arm crashed into him. The shield shattered in a burst of light, sending him sprawling, ribs aching. The ground shook with the force.
Lyra rolled sideways, already nocking another arrow. She fired at its leg, the impact sinking deep, but again the wound rejected permanence. Black vapor spilled out, writhing like serpents, before dissipating.
Seren darted forward, quicker than thought. Her dagger flashed in an arc across one of its limbs. The blade bit—deep. But the wound bled not blood, only a thick, oily vapor that hissed and coiled around her arm. She cursed, wrenching back, shaking it off as her skin blistered where the smoke touched.
"Elian!" Lyra's voice cut sharp. "The sigils—now!"
"I can't," he gasped, dragging himself upright, arm clutched tight where faint runes glowed under his skin. Pain lanced through him with every heartbeat. "Not without—"
Kaelen screamed.
It was no human sound but a shriek of tearing metal, of stone fracturing under the weight of mountains. His body convulsed, light flaring brighter than before. The creature froze mid-charge, limbs jerking as if struck by unseen chains. Its mouth gaped wider, teeth gnashing, but its movements stuttered, trapped in the radiance.
For the first time, it recoiled.
Elian's breath caught. Kaelen wasn't just bleeding power—he was wielding it. Unstable, uncontrolled, but enough to hold the monster at bay.
Yet Kaelen's skin blistered where the light spilled from his veins. His breath came ragged, lips trembling. His body was breaking under the weight of whatever lived inside him.
Lyra's voice was hard. "We use him. Or we die here."
Elian's stomach clenched. The words were cruel, pragmatic, and true. He wanted to protect Kaelen, not weaponize him—but the creature already pushed against the light, dragging itself forward in jerking motions. If Kaelen's power failed, they would be crushed.
He dropped to his knees beside Kaelen, gripping his shoulders. "Kaelen! Focus on me—just me! That thing in front of you, burn it down!"
Through the blaze of light, Kaelen's eyes met his. For a heartbeat, recognition flickered—fragile, flickering.
And then Kaelen roared.
The chamber erupted.
Light lanced outward in a spear, a torrent of brilliance that struck the creature full in its faceless head. The blast split stone, shattered pillars, and lit the ruin as if a sun had been born inside it. The monster wailed—not with sound, but with absence, a sucking void that stole heat from their blood and breath from their lungs.
Its flesh peeled away in ribbons of smoke and shadow. Bones splintered, limbs cracked, its body collapsing into a writhing mass that clawed desperately at the ground.
Elian shielded Kaelen's body with his own, holding him steady even as the shockwaves rattled the chamber. Lyra braced herself, eyes wide, and even Seren faltered, her grin fading into something darker—an awe edged with fear.
Then—silence.
The light flickered, guttered, and went out. Kaelen sagged against Elian, unconscious, his chest heaving shallow breaths. His body was a ruin—skin scorched, veins glowing faintly beneath the surface like dying embers.
The creature still lived.
Half of it was gone—its torso ragged, its limbs shredded—but it dragged itself forward, one clawed hand pulling its weight across the floor. It had no face left, but its mouth remained, gnashing, spitting vapor.
Seren snarled, rushing forward. "Guess we finish this the old way!"
Lyra was beside her, bow raised, her face grim and resolute. "Together."
Elian wanted to move, to stand, but his arms tightened around Kaelen. He couldn't let go. Not again. His choice felt like a blade carving through him—abandon Kaelen to fight, or stay and risk them all dying.
The ground shook.
A low groan rolled through the ruin, deeper than any monster's cry. The stone itself protested, trembling under their weight. Dust rained down in torrents, cracks spreading across the floor. A fissure split wide, jagged and glowing faintly with crimson light.
The creature paused, turning its ruined head toward the fissure. For the first time, it recoiled not from Kaelen's power, but from what pulsed beneath.
Elian's heart stopped.
Heat rolled upward, heavy and metallic, carrying the scent of ash and iron. From the fissure came a sound like a thousand chains breaking in unison, a metallic roar that set every nerve alight.
The ruin breathed.
The fissure widened, stone crumbling inward. Light—not Kaelen's, but something deeper, older, crueler—seeped through, painting the chamber in red. The creature hissed, dragging itself back with frantic jerks.
Seren's grin had vanished entirely. "Oh no. That's not good."
Lyra's knuckles whitened around her bowstring, her voice barely a whisper. "What… did we wake?"
Elian held Kaelen tighter, throat dry, eyes fixed on the glowing depths.
The answer rose from the fissure, slow and unstoppable.
And the ruin collapsed into shadow.