The air grew colder as Kael and Isolde pressed deeper into the catacombs. Their lantern's glow licked the damp stone walls, revealing carvings half-eaten by time: spirals, crescents, and chains—the same sigils they had seen in the Hollow.
Water dripped steadily from cracks above, echoing like a heartbeat. The silence here was thick, older than memory, as if the stones themselves held their breath.
Kael's voice was low, steady, though tension laced his tone. "These tunnels were spoken of in fragments. Some say they were carved by prisoners, others that they were sanctuaries when the Shadow King first rose. But none alive have walked them in centuries."
Isolde's palm brushed one of the carvings. The Hollow's mark within her pulsed in answer, and golden light spilled faintly from her hand. The stone seemed to drink it in, lines glowing brighter until an image revealed itself: a battle scene, etched in living fire.
Figures of light clashed against shadows. A towering shape loomed over them all, crowned in black flame—the Shadow King. At his feet lay chains of silver and gold, forged by those who fought him.
Isolde's breath caught. "This is it. The first war… how they bound him."
The vision shifted, showing a circle of warriors—men and women alike—each wielding different gifts. One bore a sword of moonlight, another a staff of living flame. At the center stood a woman cloaked in radiance, her eyes burning with the same golden fire that now coursed through Isolde's veins.
Kael's gaze hardened. "She was the first flame. The one who sealed him."
And beneath the image, words burned into the stone:
"When flame returns, chains will weaken. Only the union of blade and fire can bind shadow once more."
Kael and Isolde exchanged a look—equal parts awe and dread.
Before they could speak, the ground trembled. The lantern flickered. From the cracks in the stone floor, black mist seeped upward, coiling into shapes with hollow eyes and jagged teeth.
Kael drew his sword, the steel catching the glow of Isolde's light. "We're not alone."
The shadows surged, their whispers hissing like snakes. "The flame has come. The chains are breaking. The king awakens."
Isolde's magic flared, pushing back the mist in bursts of golden fire. But the shadows multiplied, filling the tunnel with writhing forms. Kael slashed left and right, his strikes cutting through the darkness, his movements precise and unyielding.
Still, the tide pressed closer.
Isolde pressed her back to Kael's, her voice tight. "They're trying to keep us from the truth."
"Then we fight harder," Kael growled. His blade sang, dispersing another shade. "The truth is exactly what Varrow doesn't want us to find."
At the far end of the chamber, the shadows swirled into a single mass, forming a towering figure. Its face was a shifting void, but its voice was clear, deep, and mocking.
"Flame… Prince… You walk the path of the first war, yet you cannot finish what they began. The crown of shadows rises, and you will kneel before it."
Isolde's magic blazed so fiercely it turned the carvings around them into pillars of gold. The figure shrieked, splintering into smoke, though its echo lingered like poison in the air.
When the light faded, Kael caught Isolde's trembling hand. Her power had left the chamber glowing faintly, revealing an altar of stone at the far wall. Upon it rested a relic: a blade forged of silver, its edge etched with the same crescent runes as the chains.
Kael approached slowly, reverence in his steps. "The Sword of Moonsilver… the weapon that bound him."
Isolde's voice was soft, trembling with awe. "It was waiting. For you."
Kael lifted the weapon, its weight balanced, its steel alive with faint light. For a moment, the chamber seemed to steady, the shadows receding, as though the catacombs themselves recognized the sword's bearer.
But even as triumph flickered between them, Isolde felt the Hollow's mark burn hotter than ever. The chains groaned in her mind, louder now, almost breaking. And through the silence came the Shadow King's whisper, cruel and certain:
"The flame burns brighter. The blade has awoken. Soon, neither will be yours to wield."