The fall lasted longer than Lion expected. When his back finally slammed onto hard stone, the impact drove the breath from his lungs. In the darkness, Selene let out a pained grunt, followed by a string of curses in some guttural tongue.
"You... alright?" Lion wheezed, struggling upright. His shadow-sight flickered to life—they'd landed in a cavern, its walls scarred with tool marks.
Selene didn't answer. She knelt three paces away, hands clamped over her left shoulder. Dark fluid seeped between her fingers, but oddly, there was no blood-smell—only sulfur, like molten rock.
"The glaive had anti-magic runes," she finally gritted out. "My circuits are... contaminated."
Lion crawled closer. He'd seen wounds at the forge, but Selene's injury was wrong. Crystalline shards jutted from her flesh, edges spreading like frost across glass.
"Don't touch it!" Her head snapped up, pupils slit to daggers. "It spreads."
Metal clanged deep in the tunnels. Lion shifted into a fighter's stance, shadows pooling in his palms. The footsteps grew louder, accompanied by labored breathing—then torchlight speared the dark, revealing a face carved with scars.
The man wore rusted half-plate, its battered crest hinting at fallen nobility. A greatsword, stained with old blood, dragged behind him.
"Smell that? Shadows," he rasped. Then, spotting Selene: "And... little hellspark? Who pissed in your magic this time?"
Selene exhaled. "Calvin," she smirked weakly. "Still too ugly to trip on your own sword, I see."
Up close, Lion saw the man's right eye was milk-white, the left marked with a defaced knight's sigil.
"New stray?" Calvin thrust the torch at Lion. "He reeks of the deep-dark."
"Long story," Selene tried rising, then collapsed. "We need—"
The cavern quaked. Rocks rained down as distant thunder rolled—not stonefall, but water.
"Damnation!" Calvin hauled Selene over his shoulder. "Run, shadow-pup, unless you fancy drowning!"
The flood chased them through twisting tunnels. Lion barely avoided walls in the dark, shadows guiding his steps. At the third turn, Calvin kicked open a rusted gate. They tumbled into a round chamber as the door sealed behind them.
The room was a lived-in hideout: moldy blankets, a fragmented map, and odd metal parts strewn about. Selene lay semi-conscious, crystals now reaching her collarbone. Calvin dug out a tin box, revealing glowing blue mushrooms.
"Eat," he shoved one into Selene's mouth, tossed another to Lion. "Unless you want Church hounds on your scent."
The mushroom dissolved like rotten mint. Numbness spread through Lion—his shadow-power muffled, as if wrapped in wool.
"Ghostcap. Worth a lord's ransom," Calvin said, examining Selene. "Who'd you piss off? Even 'Silvermask' Gordon's hunting you."
Lion recalled the glaive-wielding Inquisitor. "Selene called him 'teacher.'"
Calvin's hands stilled. "That old ghoul," he grinned savagely. "Fifteen years back, he headed the Arcane College's 'correctional' program." He tapped Selene's sun-brand. "Defective apprentices like her? Usually ended up as living torches for their festivals."
Lion's gut twisted. "How'd she—"
"I burned my way out," Selene's eyes flared open, pupils flickering. "Took half the White Tower with me." She sat up, wincing. "Calvin. We need Duskwhisper Forest."
"Suicidal," he snorted. "Since the shadowbeasts came, it's—"
"The Crown's key is there," she cut in, producing a blood-red crystal shard. "This is one piece. The next's in the Elder's Sanctum."
Calvin's face darkened. "You know the cost of waking the Elders."
Selene glanced at Lion, smiling tiredly: "Hence the Shadowborn."
Outside, the water's roar faded—replaced by scritching, like claws on stone. Calvin hefted his sword.
"Ghostcap's wearing off," he muttered. "Hounds found us."
Lion felt his shadows stir anew. Worse—he recognized the scent clinging to their hunters.
The same taint as the shadowbeasts.