The Torrus‑Endra was an hour's walk from the academy, hidden between two hills covered with blue pines. The portal was a rift in reality – a vertical, dark rift with red veins running along its edges. It wasn't like the one at the church of Desty, nor the one of the second strand. This one was small, almost shy. A common dungeon, the kind second‑year students visited for training.
Professor Gregorius Grémul stood before us, arms crossed, his bald head shining in the morning sun. His voice was a roar that echoed among the hills.
"You will go in. You will explore. You will kill whatever appears." He looked at each of us. "I don't want heroes. I want survivors. If you see anything bigger than a door, you run. Understood?"
"Yes, professor," we answered in chorus.
Gregorius spat on the ground.
"Go in."
---
There were seven of us.
Ethan, me, Ana, Sara, Ariny, Luna, and Néris. Ana was paler than usual, the mark of Anorys glowing faintly over her tunic. She still hadn't fully recovered from the shock of her divine choosing, but she had refused to stay behind. Sara and Ariny stayed together, as always. Luna's eyes were wide open, her silver hair tied in a ponytail. Néris held a scroll in her hand – a light spell, memorised the day before.
I took a deep breath. The sword in my hand. The iron one, the heavy one. It wasn't Andy's sword. It had no name.
The portal swallowed us one by one.
---
The inside was dark, damp, smelling of earth and moss. The walls were of irregular stone, covered with inscriptions I couldn't read. The floor sloped downwards, toward a darkness that seemed endless.
Zirinos lit a flame in his palm. Blue‑white, steady. The light danced on the walls, creating shadows that seemed to move on their own.
"Walk in a line," he said, his voice calm. "I'll go first. Ana, you stay at the back. If something comes from the rear, it's yours."
"Why me?" asked Ana, with a tone of displeasure.
"Because you're the strongest." Zirinos didn't look at her. "Even weak, you're stronger than any of us."
She didn't answer. But she took the position.
We walked.
---
The first monsters appeared after a few minutes. They were goblins – small, thin, with yellow eyes. They came out of a crevice in the wall, screaming, armed with sticks and sharp stones.
Zirinos didn't move.
"Ethan. Show what you've learned."
I hesitated. The sword trembled in my hand. The first goblin jumped. I dodged by a hair. The second hit my shoulder with a stone – it hurt, but it didn't knock me down.
I cut.
The goblin fell. The blood was dark, almost black. The others backed away, frightened.
"Good," said Zirinos. "Again."
I killed two more. The remaining ones fled into the darkness.
"There weren't many," commented Luna, her voice trembling. "They're just goblins."
"Goblins never come alone," Zirinos replied. "Move. Faster."
---
We found the first large chamber after half an hour.
The ceiling was high, lost in darkness. In the centre, a puddle of stagnant water. On the walls, ancient paintings – men fighting beasts, gods falling from the sky, children weeping.
Ariny approached one of the paintings.
"This is the first war against the lords," she said, her voice low. "The artist was a witness."
"How do you know?" asked Sara.
"Because my father taught me to read these things." Ariny touched the wall with her fingertips. "Blood ink. And bone ash."
No one said anything.
Ana, who was at the rear, called us.
"There's something there."
She pointed to a dark corner. Two eyes gleamed in the half‑light. Then two more. Then four. Then many.
"Run," said Zirinos.
We ran.
---
The second chamber was different.
The floor was covered with bones. Not animal bones – human bones. Shattered skulls, scattered ribs, femurs used as improvised torches.
Néris began to cry softly.
"Don't stop," Zirinos ordered. "You can't stop."
"The bones… there are so many…"
"That's why you can't stop." He pulled her by the arm. "Come on."
We crossed the room at a run. The bones crunched under our boots.
---
The third chamber held gold.
Piles of ancient coins, rusty swords, silver cups. And in the centre, a chest of dark wood with silver fittings.
"Don't touch anything," Zirinos warned.
"Why not?" asked Sara, her eyes shining.
"Because it's been here for centuries. No one has taken it. Why?"
"Maybe because no one got this far."
"Or maybe because whoever touches it dies." He moved away from the chest. "Let's go."
Luna hesitated. Her eyes fixed on the gold. Her hand reached out.
"Luna, no," I said.
She touched it.
Nothing happened.
"See?" She smiled. "It's not dangerous."
She put a coin in her pocket.
Zirinos didn't comment. But his gaze was icy.
---
The fourth chamber was the last.
The ceiling was higher than the others, the walls wider. The floor was clean – no bones, no dust, nothing. Only polished stone.
And in the centre, a cyclops.
It was huge, enormous, with grey skin. A single eye, red, bloodshot. It breathed slowly, its chest rising and falling. It was asleep.
"I think… I think it's a guardian," whispered Néris.
"I think it's a problem," Ana replied, her hand on her sword.
Zirinos didn't move. His eyes fixed on the cyclops. His face paled.
"Zirinos?" I called. "Are you all right?"
He didn't answer.
His gaze was somewhere else. Some other time.
'What's wrong with him?' I thought.
"We have to kill it," said Ariny. "There's no other way."
"No," Zirinos replied, his voice strange, hoarse. "You kill it. I won't."
"Why?"
He didn't answer. He just stepped back. Leaned against the wall, arms crossed, face pale.
I looked at the cyclops. At the red eye. At the enormous body, sitting, hands on its knees.
'It looks like… what?'
I didn't know. But Zirinos knew.
Ana stepped forward.
"Stand back."
The mark of Anorys glowed on her chest. Divine energy concentrated in her right hand – a red, pulsing, hot glow.
The cyclops woke up.