Neil sat cross-legged near the canyon wall, barely three paces from the moss-covered door. The faint pulses of energy floating in the air still danced lazily around him, but slower now, dimmer. Hours had passed since he'd found this place, and the flow of energy dust had diminished as he absorbed it bit by bit.
He inhaled slowly, drawing the shimmering particles toward him. At first, they'd resisted—diffuse, hesitant, like dandelion seeds on an unpredictable breeze. But over time, as he concentrated, they began to respond to his will. Each breath and thought pulled the floating specks closer, and as he extended his Core sense outward, they began to coil gently toward him like strands of smoke being sucked into a fire.
The more Neil practiced, the more natural it became. The particles clung to his skin, slid down his arms, and vanished into his Core. His limbs thrummed with warmth, his body growing more responsive with each passing moment. He remained still, meditative, channeling the energy into his Core, refining it, controlling the urge to rush.
Eventually, the air around him cleared. The energy dust that had lingered freely was gone. But he wasn't finished.
He turned his gaze toward the moss-covered door.
It hadn't moved. It hadn't changed. But now that the air around it was still, Neil could see it more clearly. The symbols around its edges faintly pulsed—barely noticeable to the untrained eye. His Core sense picked up a residual hum, a deeper presence within the stone.
He tried drawing energy directly from the door. It worked, but at a crawl. The stone resisted him, reluctant to give up what had been locked away for perhaps centuries. He furrowed his brow and focused, channeling more will into the effort.
Still too slow.
Neil stood and approached the door. The moss felt cold and damp under his hand as he pressed his palm flat against its surface. His Core flared as he made contact. Not violently—but with a strange recognition. Like it had touched something familiar.
He pushed harder—not with strength, but with intent. He directed his Core energy not into brute force, but into command.
Move.
The energy inside the door stirred. It twisted slowly under his will, sluggish but responsive.
Cracks began to form.
They were faint at first—hairline fractures that traced along the stone in subtle patterns. But the more energy Neil drew from the door, the more it unraveled. The reinforcing web of power embedded within it began to fail.
Then came the sound—a low, echoing groan as ancient stone shifted.
With a final pulse of Core command, Neil yanked his hand away.
The door exploded—not in violence, but in pressure. A sudden gust of air blasted outward, hot and thick with energy. It hit Neil like a wave.
He staggered backward, caught off guard. Pain bloomed through his chest and skull. His vision blurred as the rush of condensed power struck every nerve. He fell to one knee, gasping.
His mind reeled.
It wasn't just the energy itself—it was what it carried. Weight. Memory. Echoes of something long dead, yet still potent.
Blood ran from his nose, his ears. His heartbeat pounded in his throat. Every inch of his body felt like it had been scorched from the inside. He slumped forward, coughing, clutching his ribs.
But the energy didn't stop.
It poured from the opening like water from a cracked dam—thick, slow-moving dust that shimmered with hues Neil couldn't name. He inhaled deeply despite the pain, forcing his Core to stabilize, to absorb. His vision returned slowly, his mind settling into a sharp edge.
When he finally stood, his breath came ragged, but his Core felt... fuller. Richer. The amount of energy he had absorbed in that one moment rivaled everything he had gained since awakening on this world.
And he wasn't done.
---
The entry beyond the broken door sloped downward into shadow. Neil extended his senses inward—searching for life, for movement, for hostile energy signatures.
Nothing. Only silence and the echo of dead energy clinging to the walls.
He entered.
The corridor was long and narrow, carved stone lined with faintly glowing etchings that flickered like dying fireflies. Dust coated the floor in a thin layer, and every step disturbed it, sending tiny clouds drifting upward. He moved carefully, slowly, one step at a time.
Ten minutes passed before the corridor opened into a large chamber.
The ceiling arched high above, and the air inside was still and dry. In the center stood a circular reception-like structure—almost like a desk or checkpoint, its surface smooth and empty. Faint carvings adorned its edge, but whatever purpose it once served had long faded.
Above, dim symbols glowed in the stone of the ceiling, forming an incomplete constellation of unknown meaning.
To the left behind the counter: massive twin doors, sealed tight.
To the right: a vast circular platform, its edges lined with stairs and crumbling symbols. It was roughly the size of the center circle on a football field, though the comparison felt inadequate here. A jagged crack ran down its center, like a wound splitting the floor.
Neil approached the counter first. Nothing. Dust, age, silence.
Then the doors.
He pressed against them—no energy markings, but immense weight. He budged one slightly with effort, but didn't force it. Not yet.
Finally, the platform.
He stepped up the low stairs, boots echoing in the quiet. The symbols beneath his feet were barely legible—half-eroded by time. He reached the crack and knelt, touching the surface.
Dead.
No fluctuations. No warmth. It had once held energy, he was sure of it. But now it was cold. Dormant.
He exhaled. "Some kind of mechanism."
But why was it here? A ceremonial platform? A teleportation device? He couldn't know.
Only one place left to check.
He returned to the twin doors and pushed. This time, with effort and Core reinforcement, he forced them open.
A long corridor stretched downward.
He stepped through—and emerged into another hall, this one circular and larger than the first.
Statues stood on raised pedestals along the edge—twelve in total. Humanoid in shape, but each distinct. One bore horns like a ram. Another had feathered wings rising from its back. A third resembled a wolf walking upright. And at the far end—towering, silent—a figure with elongated limbs, backward-jointed legs, and a face stretched too long for humanity. A Vaeltharan.
Neil approached slowly. The statues stood in silence, but they were unsettling. Too lifelike. Too detailed. He extended his Core senses—but felt nothing. Not even echoes.
No exits. No doors.
Only the one he had come through.
He stepped into the center of the room.
There, inlaid into the floor, was a shallow circular dent. Clean. Precise. Designed for something to fit there.
He crouched and placed his hand on it.
His Core flared.
A tether. A conduit. The dent connected downward—far below—to something massive.
Neil's breath caught.
It was still there. Energy. More than anything he had encountered so far. Sleeping, buried, but waiting.
Whatever had once rested on this platform—whatever had once activated this chamber—was gone.
But the power remained.
He looked around at the statues, the silent room, the depth of energy beneath.
He had found something important. And he was not leaving until he unraveled its purpose.