When Grimhold's gate boomed shut behind them, the sounds of the outside world—the wind, the birds, even the distant memory of war—were instantly cut off. They found themselves in a massive stone hall with a high ceiling. The air was cool and peaceful, filled only with the crackle of torch flames on the side walls and the sound of distant dripping water.
The hall was as large as a city's main square. The walls were covered with intricate reliefs telling the story of Naje history: the First Mages shaping the world, the birth of Ma'at, the golden age of balance, and finally, the coming of the Void and the fall. They were the clearest and best-preserved records they had ever seen.
They were surrounded by hundreds of Naje inhabitants. All looked worn but proud. Their clothes were simple and practical, but their eyes held a light different from the world outside: an unextinguished fire of resistance. Children hid behind their mothers' skirts, the elderly looked at Moaito with deep respect, and young warriors scrutinized Sere with both admiration and rivalry.
Korvan stepped forward. "People of Grimhold!" he called, his voice echoing off the hall's walls. "The moment we have long awaited has come! The Ancient Guardian has finally reached us! And by his side is a brave companion who planted seeds of hope in the heart of Kael's army in the valley battle!"
A wave of whispers circulated through the crowd. "The Guardian..." "He's real..." "And that girl..."
From the crowd emerged an elderly woman, leaning on a staff, walking slowly. She was as old as a tree. Her hair was snow-white, her face lined with deep wrinkles, but her eyes shone with extraordinary clarity and intelligence.
"Korvan," the woman said, her voice soft like the rustle of leaves yet strong enough for all to hear. "Will you introduce us to these ancient guests?"
Korvan bowed his head respectfully. "Of course, High Priestess Elara." He turned to Moaito and Sere. "This is High Priestess Elara, the spiritual and political leader of Grimhold. She is the living treasury of our ancestors' wisdom."
Moaito gave a slight bow to the woman. "High Priestess. We are grateful for your sanctuary."
Elara studied him, her gaze both gentle and piercing. "Sanctuary is given to those in need, Ancient One. But you... you are not seeking sanctuary, are you? You seek a weapon, a key."
Then she turned her eyes to Sere. "And you... you are different. You carry a light within you that comes from beyond these stone walls. It is said a man named Lyrian spoke with you. His words disturb you."
Sere was startled. This woman seemed to read her mind. "Yes," she whispered. "He told me... I would play a great role."
A wise smile appeared on Elara's lips. "Lyrian always loved playing with possibilities. But a role... that is a script in an actor's hand. Not a story you write yourself. Remember, no one can foresee your own story."
These words lightened the weight of Lyrian's prophecy on Sere. Her free will was still the most important thing.
Elara pointed with her staff towards a huge, sealed stone door in the farthest corner of the hall. On the door was a "Focus of Balance" symbol, far more complex and detailed than any they had seen in the scattered Naje ruins.
"Grimhold is not just a refuge," Elara explained. "It is a place of waiting. And a place of beginning. Behind that door lies what our ancestors called the 'Heart of the Earth.' It is the entrance to a passage that descends into the deepest vein of the Spine of the Earth."
Moaito's breath caught. "A path to the world's heart?"
"So it is said," Elara confirmed. "But the door has been closed for centuries. Its opening can only be triggered by a pure intent and an ancient power." Her eyes shifted from Moaito to Sere. "Perhaps... by the united intent of a Guardian and his brave companion."
This was a brand new, tangible goal. They were no longer just heading to the next point. They had a chance to descend to the world's center by solving this ancient mystery.
That night, resting in the simple but clean rooms allotted to them, Sere looked out the window at the starry sky. Everything here—the walls, the people, that door—whispered to them: The waiting was over.
The next morning, High Priestess Elara took them to Grimhold's library. There, they found dusty scrolls even older than Lyrian's. And on one of these scrolls, they saw the first clue to the origin of the "Shadow that Swallows Light."
The drawing depicted the Void's first emergence. And beside it was a figure, not controlling it like a chain, but serving it. The writing beneath the figure froze Sere's blood:
"Daughter of Night, Bride of Nothingness."
Moaito studied the drawing, his face pale. "This is not a servant," he whispered. "This is... a consort. The Void is not just a tool for her. She might be a manifestation of the Void itself."
Grimhold had offered them not just a sanctuary, but a treasure chest. And the most valuable treasure inside was a terrifying truth about the nature of their enemy.