The sword bit into stone with a scream of sparks.
Light burst from the runes etched along its steel, flooding the cavern in a blinding arc. The lantern at Kael's side answered, its shard shrieking in resonance, the blue flame writhing against the dark. For a heartbeat, he thought the Gate faltered, its rippling surface thinning as if burned away.
Then the second chain snapped.
The sound tore through the cavern like thunder, dust raining from the ceiling, the echo endless. The air itself seemed to recoil. Kael staggered back, teeth clenched, every instinct screaming at him to run—but there was nowhere to run. The Gate pulsed like a living thing, and with each beat, shadows bled outward, stretching long fingers across the floor.
So close, the voices whispered, countless mouths speaking as one. So long since we have tasted breath.
Kael raised his lantern. The flame flared, but the darkness pressed against it like a tide, dimming its glow. His blade shook in his grip, not from weakness but from the sheer weight of the force pushing back. It felt less like facing an enemy and more like standing before the open mouth of a storm.
The Gate's surface rippled again. This time, something stepped through.
At first, Kael thought it a shadow. A shape without weight or form, shifting as it moved, its outline never the same from one moment to the next. Then it turned, and he saw eyes. Not glowing, not burning—worse. They were empty, voids that reflected his own fear back at him.
The thing pressed a clawed hand against the broken air of the Gate, its form stretching into the cavern. Every chain groaned at once, as if its arrival weakened them all.
Kael's breath caught. This was no wraithspawn. This was what made them.
"Tarren," he whispered through gritted teeth, "what in the abyss did you find here?"
The creature opened its mouth, though no sound came. Instead, Kael's lantern pulsed violently, the shard inside cracking with each flicker. For the first time, Kael understood—it wasn't just a light. It was a key, forged to resist the Gate's call. And it was breaking.
He had seconds, maybe less.
The cavern shook as the third chain snapped.
The noise sent Kael to his knees, hands clamped over his ears. The voice of the Gate roared within his skull, drowning his thoughts. He saw flashes—visions that weren't his own. Cities of bone, seas of glass, skies torn into endless storms. Armies marching beneath banners not of this world. And above it all, the Gate, always the Gate, opening wider, wider, until nothing was left but ash.
"No," Kael snarled, forcing himself upright. His vision swam, but his grip on the sword remained steady. He had lived too long in ruin to bow now.
The creature advanced, each step cracking the stone beneath it. Chains rattled as it moved, as if the world itself protested its presence. The lantern flame sputtered.
Kael made his choice.
With a sharp motion, he slashed the blade across his palm, blood dripping onto the runes. The sword screamed as the glyphs devoured the offering, burning white-hot. He drove the weapon into the cavern floor once more.
The blood answered.
The glyphs spread outward like veins of light, racing across the ground, crawling up the chains themselves. For the first time, the darkness recoiled, hissing like steam meeting fire. The creature staggered, its form unraveling at the edges.
But the Gate did not close.
Kael's chest heaved. Sweat stung his eyes, his blood fed the runes, and still it was not enough. He had stopped its advance, slowed it, but not sealed it. The Gate was too vast, too old. One man's strength could not mend a wound carved into the bones of the world.
The voices laughed. Not cruelly, not even with joy. Simply… inevitability.
You cannot hold forever. None of you can.
Kael gritted his teeth, forcing his failing lantern forward. The crystal within cracked again, a fracture splitting its center. Blue fire lashed outward in desperation, slamming against the Gate's surface. For an instant, the creature shrieked without sound, its form twisting violently as if dragged back.
But the Gate only pulsed harder, as though roused to anger.
The cavern trembled. More dust rained down, boulders splitting from the ceiling. The fourth chain strained, metal screaming.
Kael planted his sword and leaned into it, his blood smearing the stone. His arms trembled, but his voice was steady.
"If I die here," he muttered, "then I'll die standing in the way."
The lantern's flame flared one last time, brighter than it had ever burned. The shard inside shattered with a crack like breaking bone.
The light consumed everything.