Corvin didn't wake; he dragged himself back from the edge of nothingness.
Metallic dust filled his mouth, tasting of old copper and crushed stone. He tried to breathe, but the air was scorching and heavy—as if he were inhaling the ash of a forgotten civilization.
"Don't move."
Maren's hands pressed hard against his chest, anchoring him to the wet bone-plates. He felt his body trembling—not from fear, but because his nerves were firing random electrical pulses, trying to compensate for what he had lost.
His eyes were shut, sealed tight by a layer of dried 'Crimson Leak.' He didn't try to open them; the darkness was kinder than reality. Instead, he listened. He heard the Citadel groaning above them, a deep tectonic sound like the movement of a giant beast turning in its sleep.
"Kael," Corvin said. His throat tore with every syllable.
Silence. Maren didn't answer immediately, and that silence was enough to tell him everything.
Corvin's fingers clawed at the bone dust; the ground was slick beneath his hand until his fingers touched the coldness of steel. His fractured blade. He gripped it as if clutching his very life.
"I lost him," Maren said, her voice flat and devoid of emotion. "The floor collapsed. He fell... or evaporated. I don't know. He vanished into the ash."
Corvin pushed himself up. Every cell in his body shrieked in pain, his broken ribs grating against one another with a sound like dry wood snapping. His left arm hung like a dead branch, completely devoid of sensation.
He stood up despite everything.
"Sit down," Maren barked. "You're finished. We're leaving now."
"No."
The word was simple and absolute. Corvin tilted his head. At first, there was nothing but blackness, then it began. It wasn't light, but pressure. Silver lines began to appear in his mind—thin currents moving through the walls. He felt the pulse of the earth beneath his feet.
Even Maren—he could feel the heat of her body, her racing heartbeat, and the whirring hum of her mechanical eye. Corvin stiffened. Then came the pain; sharp stabs as if needles were being driven into his skull. This was 'Resonance Sight.'
"What's wrong with you?" Maren asked suspiciously.
"Quiet."
He turned his head slowly, testing his new sense. Above, something was burning with a high, irritating resonance: the 'Golden Relic.' And below... there. Absolute cold. A dead frequency, like a wound in the fabric of the world. Kael.
"In the deep veins," Corvin said.
Maren grabbed his arm. "We don't have time. They're burning the Citadel's upper shell. If we stay here, we'll vaporize."
Corvin didn't look at her. "You have the primary marrow." Maren went silent. "You need Kael as much as I do. He's the only one who can stabilize your energy."
He started walking, dragging his broken leg and using his sword as a crutch. The tunnels narrowed, bone walls pressing in on them, damp, as if they were breathing. The deeper they went, the more the pressure mounted against Corvin's skull.
Something moved ahead of them. Not a sound, but a distortion in the resonance lines.
"In the wall," Corvin whispered.
Maren raised her weapon. "I don't see anything—"
The wall exploded. A black spear of solid bone lunged out. Corvin didn't dodge; he didn't have the strength. Instead, he planted his blade in the ground and channeled his energy into a simple kinetic shield.
The creature slammed into the shield, the pressure exploding through Corvin's arms. He nearly blacked out from the pain, but the attack was repelled. Corvin staggered. A fresh stream of blood leaked from his ear.
"Keep moving," he said sharply.
They reached the central chamber. The air changed, becoming heavy, thick with ash circling in slow revolutions. Corvin stepped forward and felt him. Kael.
The boy was suspended, surrounded by pulsing black filaments, as if he were part of the Citadel's fabric.
"I'm here," Corvin said, tightening his grip on his sword.
He took one more step into the ash—and the ground gave way completely.