The cave was a void of suffocating darkness, illuminated only by pulsing Essence crystals. They flickered with a rhythm that made the very shadows shiver—a sign of immense spiritual density.
"The energy here is stifling," I muttered.
We walked along a straight, narrow path. Etched into the stone walls were markings—human script, perfectly legible. A dragon's lair shouldn't have been accessible to a human, let alone documented in our language. How could a creature of such legend dwell in a place like this?
We stepped into a vast chamber. The air was thick, metallic with the scent of dried blood, and the floor was littered with discarded, obsidian-like scales. I knelt to pick one up, weighing it in my palm, while my gaze drifted to the walls, which were covered in frantic, carved warnings.
"Rha'pel, look at this," I whispered.
"Shh!" Rha'pel hissed, his voice barely audible. "Do not wake it."
"What are you talking about? There's no dragon here."
Rha'pel pointed toward a shadowed corner. Perched atop a nondescript altar was a creature so small it had escaped my initial notice. It was a wyrmling, curled in a slumber so deep it felt like a coma.
Driven by an inexplicable pull, I stepped toward the altar.
"Gray, what are you doing?" Rha'pel's voice trembled with sudden, sharp anxiety. "That is a dragon! Do you want to wake it?"
I didn't answer. I reached out, my fingers trembling as I made contact with the wyrmling's hide.
Du-du.
The sound echoed in my own chest—a rhythmic, thundering heartbeat that wasn't my own. A wave of warmth surged through me, an overwhelming sense of familiarity, as if I had just reunited with a friend lost to the ages. Energy surged from my core, racing down my limbs, flooding my mind until everything turned white—then, violently, into an absolute void.
Where am I? It's so hot.
I was standing before a vast, obsidian sea. Above me, a massive mirror hung suspended in the air. As I watched, more mirrors materialized around me, each reflecting a different version of reality. In the center mirror, I didn't see myself. I saw a man with a face veiled in blur. His hair was a color that defied description—darker than white, deeper than black. His aura was so oppressive, so sinister, that it forced me to my knees.
His voice was the rumble of thunder. The mirrors shattered. The sea churned. I didn't feel pain in my heart; it radiated from my very soul, I felt it, the pain was just like the pain from the flames, that was when i knew.... A seal has been broken
◆◇◆
Rha'pel didn't hesitate. Fear gripped him, forcing a desperate transformation. He shifted into his full beast form, abandoning the safe paths for a reckless, headlong charge. He tore through lethal traps and ancient formations, relying on his unnatural regeneration to survive the onslaught. He had to alert the teachers. He had to reach Lady Aris.
◆◇◆
Miles away, a woman sat in meditation.
The technique Master taught me is flawless, she thought, drawing spiritual energy from the air to bolster her soul. I must teach this to Gray; it will compensate for his lack of internal reserves.
Then, a sharp, piercing pain tore through her chest. It was a sensation of profound loss—an anchor in her soul being ripped away. She knew instantly.
Gray is in danger.
The alarm bells at the Eclipse base began to toll, breaking the silence of the base. As the masters available extended their perception, they saw a harrowing sight: Rha'pel, bleeding and broken, dragging himself forward in his Morjin beast form.
"I know you can see me!" he rasped, his voice stuttering with exhaustion. "Master, save him... Lady Aris, please... he's in the dragon cave. Gray is in danger!"
◆◇◆
Far beyond the borders of the known world, toward the heart of Dark Hell, the Sword Demon Karioth and his servant, Eryth, trekked through an endless, decaying landscape.
"Master," Eryth gasped, his breath hitching. "How many days? My energy is completely drained. I feel no different from a common mortal."
Karioth laughed, a cold, sharp sound. "A demon humbled by mortality? Do not worry, we rest here."
He pointed a finger at the empty air. "Stand back, Eryth."
With a precise movement, he drew a circle in the space before them. Energy flared. The fabric of reality groaned, the very walls of Dark Hell trembling as if on the verge of collapse.
Vrummm.
Space pushed back, sealing the tear in an instant.
Karioth's eyes gleamed with madness, pride, and sorrow. "Interesting. The realm itself has developed a will, and it dares to reject me? You are but a collection of his lingering power, pretending to be a god."
The Sword Demon grinned. "I will cut you open and use your heart as a key."
A blade materialized in his hand—not of steel, but of pure, condensed soul energy.
"The Formless Sword," Eryth whispered, a small, knowing smile touching his lips. "It has been an age since I witnessed it."
Karioth struck. The blow didn't just impact space; it began to devour it. As the space around them carved out a pocket of safety, the Sword Demon began a low, rhythmic chant, preparing to carve his way to the truth.