They left the outpost at false dawn.
The survivors moved in a ragged line, carrying bundles, weapons, and children. Brann led with grim determination, Selene drifting at his side like a shadow. Kael walked near the rear, every gaze prickling at his back.
The drums did not follow them that day. But the silence was no comfort.
The ruins grew stranger the deeper they went. Jagged arches bent overhead, fused with black glass. Streets cracked and buckled, leading into yawning chasms. In one place, a giant statue lay toppled, its stone face half-eroded, mouth stretched in a silent scream.
Kael could not stop staring.
"What is this place?" he whispered once, to Selene.
Her silver eyes gleamed faintly. "The Dusk remembers. It devours cities, yet their bones remain. Some say the chains that bind this world grew from these ruins. That every stone whispers still."
As if in answer, Kael heard the faint scrape of chains inside his head. Yes… we remember. We are older than stone. Older than men.
He flinched.
Selene smiled, as though she knew exactly what he had heard.
By midday, Brann led them into the mouth of an old tunnel system. "Shorter than crossing the open. Safer too, if we keep quiet."
The tunnels were vast, lined with broken murals and shattered statues. Moss glowed faintly, lighting their way. Kael trailed his fingers across the carvings—men and women depicted in chains, kneeling before a towering figure shrouded in shadow.
"Who is that?" Kael whispered.
Brann's voice was tight. "Old god. Old lie. Don't think on it."
Selene's smile was sharper. "The Chain-Lord, some say. The first to bind shadows. Perhaps the one who bound you, Kael."
His stomach twisted.
The whispers surged eagerly. Yes. Yes. The first. The one who still waits.
Kael yanked his hand away.
They camped in a cavern that night, the ceiling high and dripping with water. Fires glowed faintly, but no one spoke much. The tunnels pressed close, carrying every echo.
Kael sat apart, staring at the carvings. His chains stirred constantly now, restless in the presence of these stones. He felt as though the shadows were pressing closer, whispering more clearly.
Come deeper. The roots are waiting. We are waiting.
He buried his face in his hands.
Later, Selene approached him again. She sat gracefully beside him, silver eyes shining in the firelight.
"You hear them more strongly here, don't you?" she asked softly.
Kael stiffened. "How do you know?"
Her smile was faint. "Because I've walked these tunnels before. And I listened. The Dusk is not silent, Kael. It speaks to those who can hear. Few can. You can."
Her words unsettled him more than comforted. "Why me?"
"Why anyone?" She tilted her head. "Perhaps the Dusk chose you. Or perhaps you were simply too stubborn to die."
He had no answer for that.
That night, Kael dreamed.
He was bound in chains, kneeling in darkness. A vast figure loomed above him, face hidden, eyes burning with pale fire.
"You are mine," the figure whispered, though its voice was also the whispers of the shadows inside him. "You are what I made you. Every chain you forge is another step closer."
Kael struggled, screaming. But the chains only pulled tighter.
When he woke, his body was slick with sweat, his heart racing.
And the whispers inside him were still laughing