The cavern stretched far beyond the reach of mortal sight.
Jagged walls towered around Satre and Gramia while faint violet symbols pulsed across the stone like veins carrying ancient life through the mountain itself. The deeper they descended, the colder the air became.
Not naturally cold.
Heavy.
Ancient.
Like stepping into a place forgotten by time itself.
The faint hum beneath the earth grew stronger with every step.
Neither woman spoke loudly anymore.
Instinctively—
both understood this place was watching them.
Satre's future sight flickered briefly again.
Ten timelines.
Ten minutes.
Most showed silence.
But in two—
something inside the cavern woke up.
Neither future showed hostility.
That somehow unsettled her more.
Gramia's silver eyes scanned the glowing symbols carefully as they walked.
"These markings…" she whispered. "They're older than dimensional scripture."
Satre glanced toward her.
"You recognize them?"
"Fragments." Gramia lightly touched one of the glowing runes. "My people studied ancient dimensional civilizations before our world fell. But this…" Her expression tightened slightly. "This predates almost everything."
The deeper they descended—
the stranger the cavern became.
The walls no longer looked carved.
They looked grown.
Massive dragon-shaped pillars spiraled upward through the darkness while faint traces of destruction magic lingered throughout the chamber like echoes refusing to disappear.
Satre slowed.
Something about this place felt familiar.
Not to her.
To Shiro.
Eventually the narrow passage opened into a colossal underground chamber.
And both women froze.
Massive murals covered the walls from floor to ceiling.
Dragons.
Gods.
War.
Entire civilizations burning beneath violet flames while colossal beasts crashed against armies of divine warriors.
Some dragons were depicted as protectors.
Others—
as calamities.
At the very center of the largest mural stood a colossal dark-purple dragon with wings large enough to eclipse entire cities.
Its eyes glowed with terrifying intensity even within the ancient artwork.
Satre stared silently.
"…Shiro."
The resemblance wasn't exact.
But it was close enough to make her chest tighten.
Gramia slowly approached the mural.
"The aura here…" she whispered. "It's reacting to his bloodline."
Satre's eyes narrowed slightly.
Before she could answer—
the chamber trembled.
A deep vibration echoed through the cavern walls.
The glowing symbols brightened instantly.
Then the altar at the center of the chamber began radiating violet light.
The air thickened.
Ancient magic flooded the room.
And slowly—
a massive translucent figure emerged above the altar itself.
A dragon.
Dark-purple scales shimmered like fractured stars across its enormous body while ancient golden eyes studied the two women silently.
Its presence alone made the cavern feel smaller.
Older.
The dragon's gaze shifted immediately toward Satre.
Then toward Gurtër.
Then finally—
toward the faint traces of Shiro lingering on both women through their bond.
When it spoke—
the entire cavern shook.
"...The heir still lives."
Satre instinctively stepped forward.
"Who are you?"
The dragon slowly lowered its massive head.
"I am Dranoth."
Its voice rumbled through the chamber like collapsing mountains.
"The final keeper of the forgotten dragon lineage."
Gramia's expression shifted immediately.
She recognized the name.
Fragments of ancient dimensional records surfaced in her memory.
A dragon tied directly to the Destruction Goddess.
Dranoth's massive eyes narrowed slightly.
"You carry his scent."
Satre's grip tightened around Gurtër.
"Shiro."
The dragon nodded slowly.
"The son of destruction."
Silence filled the cavern.
Not because the words were confusing.
Because they felt inevitable.
Satre stepped closer carefully.
"What is he?"
The dragon studied her quietly for several long seconds.
Then finally answered.
"He is what the gods fear most."
The cavern darkened slightly.
"Not because he is destruction."
Dranoth's voice lowered.
"But because he was born carrying the will to survive it."
Satre's chest tightened painfully.
The visions.
The suffering.
Raiku.
Everything suddenly felt heavier somehow.
Gramia folded her arms slowly.
"You know what's happening to him."
"I know enough."
The dragon's eyes dimmed slightly.
"The gods have always feared the bloodline of the Destruction Throne. The stronger he becomes… the more terrified they will grow."
Satre's future sight activated briefly again.
This time—
she saw Shiro standing in darkness while chains wrapped around his throat.
But his eyes—
still refused to break.
The vision vanished instantly.
Dranoth noticed her expression immediately.
"You see fragments of fate."
Satre nodded quietly.
"Ten timelines. Ten minutes."
The ancient dragon seemed genuinely surprised.
"…At your current growth?"
Gramia blinked slightly at that reaction.
Even an ancient being like this found Satre abnormal.
Dranoth's gaze softened slightly afterward.
"You are the first light in his darkness."
Satre froze completely.
The dragon continued quietly.
"The first one who reached him."
For a moment—
she couldn't speak.
Because part of her had always feared she failed him.
Failed to save him.
Failed to stay beside him.
But hearing those words here—
inside a forgotten tomb older than kingdoms—
hurt in a completely different way.
Dranoth slowly turned toward the murals surrounding them.
"The road ahead will only grow crueler. The gods will continue cornering him until he either breaks…" The dragon's eyes darkened. "…or becomes something even they cannot control."
Gramia's expression sharpened.
"And Raiku?"
For the first time—
the dragon's expression shifted into visible hostility.
Ancient rage flickered behind its eyes.
"That creature is not training him."
The cavern trembled slightly.
"He is mutilating his soul."
Silence.
Satre's hands clenched tightly enough to shake.
Dranoth lowered its gaze toward her.
"But he still endures."
The dragon's voice softened slightly.
"And endurance is the most terrifying trait the bloodline possesses."
The chamber fell silent once more.
Then slowly—
the glowing altar beneath Dranoth brightened further.
Ancient destruction magic flooded outward across the cavern walls.
The dragon's massive eyes locked onto Satre and Gramia one final time.
"You will need strength beyond what you currently possess if you wish to reach him."
The air vibrated violently.
"The Tower of Myths was only the beginning."
Far away—
across fractured dimensions—
Shiro screamed again beneath Raiku's endless torment.
And for the first time since arriving in the dead world—
Satre felt helplessness begin transforming into fury.