Eyes unlocking from the man they look at eachother and down to Brocks hand
The silence that followed was suffocating.
His hand, the one branded by the spiral and flame, throbbed with a heat that wasn't entirely physical. It was deeper—rooted somewhere between flesh and spirit.
He could hear it now, clearer than before: faint whispers slithering from the cracks in the cavern walls, curling between the murals. The paintings seemed to shift under his gaze, figures undulating, their endless suffering and battles looping over and over like a broken film.
Behind him, Quinn's ragged breathing filled the air.
"We have to go," Quinn let out, eyes wild. "Now. Before something else wakes up."
Brock didn't move. He felt tethered to this place, an unseen cord wound tight around him, pulling, pulling deeper.
"No," Brock said quietly. His voice surprised even himself—low, certain. "We can't."
Harrow letting out
"The altar was not merely a key to your power," Harrow said. "It was a gate. And in opening it…" His gaze flicked to the floor beneath their feet. "You stirred something older than memory."
Brock's stomach twisted.
"What kind of something?" Quinn snapped, stepping closer to Brock as if proximity might save him.
Harrow smiled, thin and joyless. "The sanctuary was built to contain, not to protect." He gestured to the floor. Cracks spiderwebbed outward from the altar's base, thin tendrils of darkness leaking like blood. "Beneath this chamber lies the Cradle of the First Breach—the heart of the Veil's corruption. An ancient prison for Malakar."
Brock blinked, the whispers hissing louder now, drowning reason.
"Malakar?" Quinn repeated, incredulous. "That sounds like some cult garbage—"
"You saw the Gaunt," Harrow cut him off sharply. "You faced the touch of the Veil and lived. You think your skepticism will help you now?"
Brock staggered a step, Crossing his fingers together tight. Images lashed across his mind in violent flashes:
—himself cloaked in flame, standing atop the broken world, tendrils burning away at his feet.
—then again, but different—tendrils wrapping tighter, worming into his skin, his eyes hollow voids as he knelt before the Veil itself.
Knowing this is a flash of failure the world ends and so does everything he loves.
"It's choosing me," Brock whispered, voice cracking.
Harrow stepped closer, his shadow swallowing Brock's vision. "Not choosing. Testing."
The ground trembled beneath their feet. A deep, slow heartbeat echoed through the cavern, not sound exactly, but something they felt in their bones. Dust sifted from the cavern ceiling. Far below, a groan, heavy, rose from the depths.
Brock swallowed hard. Every instinct screamed to run, but his body was frozen in place.
"You have a choice," Harrow said, low and serious. "Leave now, and the Veil's mark will hunt you until your mind collapses under its weight. Or descend. Face the Sanctuary. Learn to master what you have awakened... before it destroys you."
Quinn backed away toward the cavern entrance, clutching his bag like a shield.
"That's not a choice, that's suicide!" he shouted. "We should burn this damn place to the ground and forget it ever existed!"
The cavern's tremors intensified, dust cascading from the ceiling like a slow, deliberate countdown. The cracks beneath the altar widened, and from them, a deep crimson light pulsed rhythmically, echoing like a heartbeat they all felt in their bones.
Brock stood at the edge of the altar, his branded hand glowing in resonance with the light below. The whispers grew louder, forming a chorus that tugged at his consciousness.
Quinn, still gripping his bag, took a cautious step forward. "Brock, we need to leave. This place isn't safe."
Brock turned to face him, eyes distant. "I can feel it, Quinn. It's calling to me."
Harrow interjected, his voice calm yet firm. "The choice remains yours, Brock. But know this: the path you choose will shape not only your fate but the fate of all."
Brock looked down at his hand, the spiral and flame now pulsating in sync with the altar's glow. He took a deep breath, steeling himself. "I'm going down."
Quinn's eyes widened. "What? Are you serious?"
Brock nodded. "I have to understand what's happening to me. I need to face it."
Quinn hesitated, then sighed. "Then I'm coming with you."
Harrow raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? The path ahead is full of dismay."
Quinn met his gaze. "Brock's my friend. I'm not letting him face this alone."
Harrow nodded, a hint of respect in his eyes. "Very well."
Together, Brock and Quinn approached the altar. As they stepped onto it, the ground beneath them shifted, revealing a long staircase descending into darkness with two torches one on each side.
The air grew colder as they descended, the whispers intensifying. The walls were lined with ancient carvings, depicting scenes of battles.
After what felt like hours, they reached a vast chamber. At its center stood a massive stone structure, pulsating with the same ancient light.
Brock approached it, his hand drawn to its surface. As he touched it, a surge of energy coursed through him, and the whispers coalesced into a single voice.
"You have awakened the Cradle.
Malakar stirs."
Brock staggered back, the weight of the revelation pressing down on him.
Quinn placed a hand on his shoulder. "We'll face this together."
Harrow stepped forward. "The journey has just begun."
As the chamber's light intensified, they prepared to confront the ancient force that had been unleashed until.
"Hey!!" came a blood curdling scream from behind them then a splash of blood
"Shit… they broke in" Harrow mutters in a face of shock. Quinn dashes ascending the staircase. Reaching the top he freezes in sheer trauma, pacing backwards slowly "naah..!"
"What Quinn" Brock sputters, stuttering over his words. "There's–." cutting off his sentence as he falls down the stairs
Another blood splatter and scream
Brock yells at Quinn to get up as Harrow runs up the stairs and sees a horrific scene
Trying to pull up Quinn Brock grunts struggling. "Brock take Quinn and run!!" Harrow screams louder than the blood curdling screams from above
Brock stuttering can't even speak only able to let out "I-I-I"
"Now descend fast!" Harrow screams louder
Bolting down the stairs using all his strength to Carry Quinn on his back being pretty light it's not hard. Brock main issue is the long stairs seeming to lead nowhere
Seeing a light at the bottom he lets out a slight psychotic smile "I'm so close" being second hand traumatized.
"Damn bastard, sacrificing himself"
At the last step he trips rolling down over 10 steps being saved by a small tendril holding him up and saves Quinns rolling body. Marking their next chapter