Kael ran until his legs felt as if someone had poured lead into them. Every breath came sharp, cutting at his throat. The narrow crack behind him had turned into a crawl space, forcing him to twist sideways and scrape against rough stone just to move forward. Cold water dripped down his neck, smelling faintly of rust and moss.
When the tunnel widened, he stopped and leaned against the damp wall, his body trembling from exhaustion."Brilliant idea," he muttered between gasps. "Run into a cave, nearly die—good thinking, Kael."
No one laughed at the joke. Only the slow plink of water echoed back. Then it came again—that faint hum from the place where the ring had once rested. It wasn't loud, just a steady pulse that matched his heartbeat.
Keep going.
The words weren't heard; they arrived in his thoughts, soft but certain.
Kael frowned. "Oh, you again," he said. "The voice in my head. Wonderful."
If you listened faster, we would not have to repeat ourselves.
He groaned. "Fantastic. My hallucinations have developed sarcasm."
You will understand in time.
"Sure," he muttered, brushing the dust from his palms. "I'll just keep pretending this makes sense."
The tunnel sloped downward once more. His boots splashed through a thin layer of water. Broken crates leaned against the walls, half-rotted and forgotten, carrying a faint smell of smoke that clung to the air. Someone had lived here once—hiding, maybe waiting.
A rusted spear jutted from a crack in the stone. A torn scrap of fabric hung from it—its colors long gone, the pattern lost to time. Still, the sight made his chest tighten. It felt familiar, though he couldn't say why.
Kael lifted his hand, and the pale blue glow that leaked from the ring's mark brushed across the far wall. Strange carvings appeared—circles, lines, and curves that almost made sense. Almost.
He hesitated, then touched the stone.
Light burst outward—white, hot, endless.
When it faded, he was no longer underground.
He stood in a courtyard beneath a sky the color of dying fire. The air felt thick and heavy, carrying the scent of dust and metal. Towering spires surrounded him, cracked but proud. Below, soldiers moved in neat lines, their black armor shining like still water.
And at the center stood a man.
Tall. Straight-backed. Eyes silver and cold, bright with something old and knowing. The same ring gleamed on his hand.
Kael froze. The man turned toward him slowly.
"You should not be here," the man said.
Kael swallowed. "Yeah," he managed. "That makes two of us."
The man's gaze didn't waver. "Then remember."
The word struck like thunder. The ground split. Towers shattered. The red sky broke apart like glass—falling, spinning—
And Kael fell with it.
He woke on the cavern floor, breath ragged. Cold sweat ran down his neck. The air carried the scent of ash, though nothing had burned. His palms glowed faintly; the blue light trembled like a weak flame.
"What was that?" he whispered.
Memory.
"Whose memory?"
Ours.
Kael stared at his hand. "You keep saying ours like it means something."
Silence. Only the slow, steady echo of boots striking stone. The Enforcers were close.
He forced himself up. His legs still shook, but he moved anyway. Maybe he was too tired to stop. Maybe he just didn't want to.
"Fine," he said quietly, eyes on the dark ahead. "If I'm stuck in this madness, I might as well see where it ends."
The ring pulsed once, faint but sure—like a heartbeat that wasn't his.And Kael stepped forward, deeper into the dark.