The mist clung thicker the farther they pressed into the valley. Sunlight filtered weakly through the canopy, but here among the ridges the light always seemed dim, as if even the sky avoided this place.
Neel felt it before he saw it — a strange pulse beneath his ribs, faint but steady, like a second heartbeat in rhythm with his storm. Every step deeper into the valley made it stronger. The whisper stirred with it, curling at the edge of his mind like smoke.
"Home," it purred. "You walk where chains were forged. You feel it, don't you? Yours is not the first storm to bow here."
He shuddered and kept walking.
Leela's eyes caught the glint of stone ahead. "There. Look."
They broke through the trees into a clearing where the earth itself seemed to have split apart. Jagged stones thrust upward in crooked angles, covered in vines but unnaturally aligned, as if placed by design. At the center loomed an archway half-swallowed by roots and moss. Carvings scarred its surface, still faintly glowing with light though centuries had passed.
Shanaya let out a low whistle. "Well, that doesn't scream ancient cursed deathtrap at all." She tossed her cloak back, embers flickering off the gold-thread embroidery. "Guess we're going in."
Leela glared at her. "This isn't a joke. That magic—" she touched the runes gently, and her breath hitched. "It's old. Older than the Academy. Older than the kingdoms."
Neel stepped closer. The runes pulsed faintly at his touch, answering the storm inside him. His chest tightened.
Shanaya raised an eyebrow. "Looks like it likes you. Shocking."
Neel ignored her and peered into the archway. Beyond it stretched a stair spiraling down into shadow, cold air whispering up as though the ruin exhaled.
"Don't," Leela warned, but Neel was already stepping forward.
The storm pulled him in.
–––
The stair was narrow, damp, carved from stone blackened with age. Their footsteps echoed unnaturally, as though the walls themselves carried the sound deeper. Sparks flickered across Neel's skin, lighting patches of mural carved into the stone.
He brushed moss away and froze.
Seven chains, etched in jagged lines, coiled around a colossal serpent. Its eyes were pits of fire, its body large enough to strangle mountains. Each chain led not to metal, but to figures — kings with crowns, mages with staffs, warriors with swords. Humans.
Leela's hand trembled as she traced one. "These… these are seals. Not iron. Bloodlines. Each family sworn to bear a chain."
"Bloodlines?" Neel echoed, his throat dry.
She didn't answer right away. Her lips pressed tight, her gaze distant.
Shanaya narrowed her eyes. "Let me guess. Your family's one of them, isn't it?"
Leela said nothing, but the silence was louder than any confession.
Neel turned sharply. "Leela…"
"Later," she whispered. Her shoulders were stiff, her eyes shimmering with something between fear and shame.
Shanaya smirked faintly, though her gaze was sharp. "Secrets. Everyone's got them."
The stair curved deeper. The air grew colder, heavy with dust and something else — not rot, but the echo of magic so old it scraped against the skin.
The whisper coiled tighter in Neel's mind, purring with satisfaction.
"Yes. Chains. Blood. All bound to me. And yet you carry them all now, Vessel. You feel it. You know it."
Neel clenched his fists until sparks snapped from his knuckles. "I'm not yours."
Shanaya glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "Talking to yourself again, Vessel?"
Leela shot her a warning look. "Enough."
But Neel's heart raced faster. He knew what the whisper wanted. He feared one day he might not resist it.
–––
At last, the stair opened into a vast chamber. Columns stretched high, cracked and half-collapsed, but still humming faintly with runes. Veins of glowing stone webbed the walls, casting ghost-light. The air was thick, heavy, alive.
Neel's storm surged the moment he stepped in, like a tide meeting the sea. His chest ached with pressure. The whisper grew louder, nearly joyful.
"Closer. Closer. See what they tried to bury. See what still lives."
Leela gripped his arm. "Neel? Are you—"
He shook her off, stepping forward into the chamber's heart.
And there, sprawling across the far wall, was a mural unlike the others.
The serpent again, coils endless, jaws unhinged as it devoured a burning city. And in the center of the fire, beneath the serpent's fangs, stood a faceless figure crowned in lightning.
Neel staggered. For a heartbeat, the figure flickered — and wore his face.
The storm inside him howled.
–––
The mural's lightning-crowned figure glared down at them, faceless yet suffocatingly familiar. Neel's storm pressed against his skin like it wanted to escape, tearing free to claim that image as its own. His knees wobbled, and he stumbled back.
"Neel?" Leela caught his arm, her face pale. "What do you see?"
"Nothing," he muttered. But his eyes were locked on the crown of lightning. "Just… nothing."
Shanaya tilted her head, studying him with the sharp amusement of a cat toying with prey. "You're lying. And whatever it is, it's scaring you. That means I want to know."
Before Neel could answer, the ground trembled.
A low growl rumbled through the chamber, vibrating in their chests. Dust rained down from the cracked ceiling. Leela spun, staff raised, eyes narrowing.
From the tunnels leading deeper, shadows moved. Four-legged shapes stalked out — wolves at first glance, but wrong in every way. Their hides were patchwork stone and sinew, their teeth jagged shards, and their eyes burned with a sickly green flame.
Leela inhaled sharply. "Gravehounds."
"Lovely," Shanaya drawled, fire curling around her fingers. "You brought us to a crypt, Deshmukh. Should've sent an invitation."
The first hound lunged before she finished, its claws scraping sparks against the stone. Shanaya stepped forward with a grin, a whip of flame snapping into being. She lashed it across the beast's chest, splitting the stone hide in a shower of molten shards. The hound howled, stumbling, but two more took its place instantly.
Neel's storm surged violently, answering the beasts' presence. Lightning sparked uncontrolled across his arms. The whisper's voice slithered closer, softer, mocking.
"See how they fear you? See how even the wild bends? Break them, Vessel. Unchain yourself. Show them."
"Not now," Neel hissed through clenched teeth.
But the Gravehounds didn't wait. One pounced for his throat. Sparks erupted as instinct took over — a bolt of lightning roared from his chest, blasting the hound mid-leap. It hit the wall with a crunch and slid lifeless to the ground, smoke curling from its broken form.
Leela gasped. "Neel, no! They're corrupted, not—"
"Tell that to their teeth!" Shanaya snarled, hurling a fireball into another beast's face. The chamber lit like dawn, shadows jerking wildly across the murals.
Leela spun her staff, water rushing forth in a tide. It struck two Gravehounds and froze instantly into jagged ice, locking their limbs. "Don't kill them if you can avoid it!" she repeated desperately.
Neel tried to listen — he did — but the storm inside him wasn't interested in mercy. Another hound charged, and he felt the whisper pulse through his veins.
"Not beasts. Not men. All chains. All prey. You are above them. End them."
The storm exploded outward before he could hold it back. Lightning poured into the chamber, brighter than fire, hotter than flame. The nearest Gravehound disintegrated under the surge — not broken or wounded, but obliterated.
The chamber fell silent in the aftermath. The stink of ozone burned their lungs. Stone cracked and smoked where the beast had stood.
Leela turned to him, eyes wide with horror. "Neel…"
"I didn't—" He staggered, his breath ragged, hands trembling as sparks still snapped uncontrollably. "I didn't mean to."
Shanaya's smirk was gone. Her expression was sharp, cold. "And that's supposed to make us feel safer?"
Her words cut deeper than the whisper ever had.
–––
The remaining Gravehounds limped back into the tunnels, their green flames fading into the dark. The chamber was left in uneasy silence, broken only by Neel's uneven breathing.
They turned to the final mural.
It stretched across the entire wall — the serpent's coils rising higher than cities, its mouth devouring towers and streets in a swirl of flame and storm. And at its heart stood the faceless figure crowned in lightning, no chains binding him, no armies standing against him.
Leela's lips moved soundlessly. Finally, she whispered, "This isn't a prison. It's a prophecy."
Neel's heart pounded as he stared at the faceless figure until his vision blurred.
And for one horrifying instant, he was certain that figure wasn't just wearing his face.
It was him.
–––
Far above the ruins, perched on a ridge, Aarav crouched among the shadows. He had followed the trail quietly, each step calculated. His sharp eyes caught the faint flicker of lightning within the cracks of the ruin below.
He grinned, teeth flashing like a blade in the dark.
"So it's true," he murmured. "The cursed Vessel. The chains. The serpent." His hand closed over the hilt of his sword, knuckles white. "If the world already fears him, all I need to do is give them proof."
His gaze lingered on the ruins, filled with stormlight. His grin widened.
"And when he falls, I'll be the hero they turn to."
–––
Neel stared at the mural one last time before turning away, sparks still dancing across his hands. He didn't say it out loud — couldn't — but one thought coiled tighter than the whisper itself.
Was this ruin a warning of a monster… or a prophecy of a king?
–––