The staircase spiraled downward, the stone walls thick with centuries of dust, and the air grew colder with each passing step. Raen's heartbeat was the only sound in the deep, quiet passage—his breath shallow as he descended into the depths beneath the academy. His mind buzzed with the events of the night before. The ring on his finger throbbed with an energy he couldn't quite understand, an insistent pulse that seemed to call out to something ancient buried beneath him.
He had expected darkness. But this was different. The deeper he descended, the heavier the air became. It felt like something was watching him, listening to his every footfall. The ring burned against his skin, the blood-red gem now faintly glowing, casting shadows that danced unnaturally in the narrow corridor. His legs were tired, but the pull of the ring, its strange energy, was stronger than any physical fatigue.
With every step, the temperature dropped, and his breath formed visible clouds in the freezing air. The stone beneath his boots grew slick with moisture, as if the very earth here was alive, writhing in ancient slumber. He almost didn't notice when the walls changed—when the smooth stone gave way to rough-hewn surfaces, jagged and sharp, like the inside of some long-forgotten tomb.
At the foot of the stairs, the passage widened into a vast chamber, so large that Raen's mind couldn't immediately comprehend its size. The ceiling was lost in shadows, and the walls seemed to stretch endlessly in every direction. Ancient sigils, half-faded but still faintly glowing, adorned every inch of the stone, swirling around in patterns that defied reason. There were chains, enormous and rusted, that hung from the ceiling like the tendrils of some forgotten creature, coiling down in spirals that led to nowhere. The air here was thick with power—dark and old, as though the very ground beneath him had tasted centuries of bloodshed and sorrow.
In the center of the chamber stood a pedestal, its surface cracked and worn with age. And upon the pedestal… something that made Raen's breath catch in his throat. An orb—black as pitch, yet shimmering with an internal light, as if it contained a storm trapped within. Raen's heart skipped a beat. His body tensed, instincts screaming at him to leave, to turn back and forget he'd ever set foot here. But the ring on his finger pulsed again, a sharp tug that drew him forward. The darkness within him stirred, and his hand reached out toward the orb before he could stop it.
As his fingers brushed against its surface, the room seemed to shift. The walls, the floor, everything around him blurred, becoming nothing more than a swirl of shapes and shadows. Raen staggered back, his hand trembling, but the orb remained fixed in place, its eerie light flickering like a heartbeat.
> [Unsealed Echo Detected… Initiating Interface.]
[Compatibility: Unstable]
[Warning: Suppressed Entity Present – Proceed with Caution.]
Raen froze. His body was rigid, his breath caught in his throat. The ring on his finger burned, its presence overwhelming, as if it had a mind of its own. It was as if the very air had thickened, becoming tangible, suffocating. He tried to pull away, to tear himself from the orb, but his body wouldn't obey. Something—someone—was forcing him to remain. The ring spoke, a voice that was both inside and outside of him, impossible to distinguish.
"So, the last key has returned."
The voice was not one that Raen recognized. It was deep, ancient, with a weight that pressed down on his chest. He stumbled, nearly falling to his knees, as the shadows around the chamber began to move. Not like normal shadows, but like something alive, something sentient. They coiled around him, their form indistinct yet undeniable. He could feel them pressing against his skin, a coldness that seeped into his very bones.
"Who… are you?" Raen gasped, his voice barely a whisper. His eyes darted around the chamber, but there was nothing there but the growing darkness.
"That depends," the voice replied, a dry chuckle echoing around him. "Who are you, bearer of flame and silence?"
Raen didn't know how to respond. Who was he? A boy without power, without a future, who had somehow found himself entangled in something far greater than he had ever imagined. The ring on his finger pulsed again, its rhythm steady and relentless, as if it were waiting for him to understand.
"I don't know yet," he muttered, his voice shaking.
The shadows deepened, swirling faster around him. The orb at the center of the pedestal cracked open, a sharp, splitting sound that made Raen flinch. Inside the orb was not just darkness—but an empty, hungry void. It was unlike anything he had ever seen, a chasm that threatened to consume everything.
"Then you are still useful," the voice said, the tone shifting. There was something predatory in it now.
Raen recoiled, stumbling backward, but his feet were rooted to the ground. He couldn't move, couldn't escape. The ring burned hotter, and in the depths of the orb, something… something reached out.
Suddenly, a burst of energy exploded from the orb, a wave of raw power that swept through the chamber like a tidal wave. Raen screamed, clutching his head as visions flooded his mind. He saw towering beasts shackled beneath twin suns, a woman in golden armor standing alone against a tide of enemies, a blade splitting the sky in two, and a man—no, a god—wearing the same ring, but kneeling in defeat, his face twisted with a look of betrayal and rage.
The visions were too much. The overload of images, sensations, and emotions tore through Raen's mind like a violent storm. He gasped for air, falling to his knees as the overwhelming force crashed against his senses.
And then, as suddenly as it began, everything stopped.
Raen blinked, disoriented. He was on the ground, shaking, his body drenched in cold sweat. The orb had disappeared, reduced to ash, but the pedestal remained—its surface still warm. And upon it, a single black feather. It hummed with power.
Raen reached out instinctively, taking the feather in his trembling hand. The moment his fingers touched it, a surge of energy rushed through him, searing him from the inside out.
The shadows in the chamber moved again, but this time, they didn't feel like they were watching him. They were waiting for him.
Raen staggered to his feet, clutching the feather, his mind spinning. Whatever had been sealed here, whatever force was awakening, it was now tied to him.
He had no choice but to move forward.
The chamber seemed to groan, the walls shuddering with an ancient energy as Raen turned and fled, racing up the stairs toward the surface. His mind raced as he realized that he was no longer the same person who had walked into this place. The ring, the orb, the visions—it was all connected. Something ancient had chosen him.
And now, it was up to him to uncover the truth.
Back at the academy, chaos was already beginning to unfold. A strange storm had formed in the distance, dark clouds swirling above the academy like a gathering storm. In the Head Warden's office, Ceryn stared out of the window, her expression grim.
"Seal the lower catacombs," she ordered, her voice sharp. "Now."
Far beyond the academy, in the ruins of a shattered city, the cloaked figure stood before a mirror of black crystal. The image of Raen shimmered in the glass, flickering like a dying flame.
"He's awakened," the figure said softly. "Too soon."
Behind them, a second figure spoke, its voice low and thunderous.
"Then the hunt begins."
End of Chapter 3