Darkness did not come all at once.
It surged in layers, stone, shadow, cold, folding over Aelindra as the world tore itself open beneath them. The scream ripped from her chest before she could stop it, ripped away by rushing wind as they fell, weightless and endless, into the Umbral Range's hidden throat.
Severin's hands were still on her.
That was the only thing that mattered.
She locked her arms around him, twisting midair by instinct, dragging him against her as jagged rock flashed past in violent blurs. Her back slammed into stone, once, twice, pain blooming white-hot along her shoulder and ribs. She bit back a cry, curling around him, shielding him as they struck over and over again, tumbling through darkness like broken stars.
Then,
Impact.
The ground hit them hard enough to knock the breath from her lungs. Aelindra rolled, Severin still clutched to her chest, the world spinning violently before slamming to a halt against something solid and unyielding.
Silence rushed in.
Not peace.
Just the stunned, ringing aftermath of survival.
For a moment, she couldn't move. Her body trembled uncontrollably, lungs burning as she dragged air back into herself in shallow, ragged pulls. The stone beneath her was cold, unnaturally so, leeching warmth through fabric and skin alike.
"Ael"
Severin's voice cracked, hoarse and panicked.
"I'm here," she gasped instantly, tightening her grip. "I've got you."
His fingers dug into her cloak like he was afraid she might vanish if he let go. His breathing was uneven, each inhale scraping painfully through his chest.
They were alive.
Somehow.
Above them, the world groaned.
A distant thunder rolled through the rock, echoing endlessly, as if the mountain itself was shifting, closing, sealing, swallowing the place they had fallen from.
Aelindra forced herself upright despite the protest screaming through her muscles. Her vision swam as she pushed Severin back just enough to look at him, hands framing his face automatically, searching.
"Severin. Look at me."
His eyes fluttered, unfocused at first, then locked onto hers.
"There you are," he whispered, like the words were a lifeline.
Relief hit her so hard her throat tightened. "You're here," she repeated. "You're still here."
A faint, broken smile tugged at his mouth. "So are you."
Before she could answer, a sharp cough wracked his body. He doubled forward, clutching at his chest, breath hitching violently.
"No, hey..." Aelindra shifted closer, one hand firm between his shoulder blades. "Easy. Slow. Breathe with me."
She inhaled deliberately, exaggerated the motion, grounding herself so he could follow. In… out. In… out.
Gradually, his breathing steadied, still rough, but no longer spiraling.
Only then did she look around.
They lay in a cavern vast enough to swallow cities.
The ceiling arched impossibly high above them, jagged and uneven, disappearing into darkness that swallowed the faintest hint of light. Strange veins threaded through the stone, faintly luminous, pulsing slowly like the veins beneath skin. Pale blues. Sickly violets. Golds dulled almost to amber.
Magic.
Old. Thick. Watching.
The floor was fractured stone and ash, scattered with rubble from their fall. Farther out, the cavern widened into a chasm that dropped away into nothingness, its depths breathing out a cold so deep it made her bones ache.
"Aelindra?"
Mira's voice echoed faintly.
Alive.
Thank the gods.
"We're here!" Aelindra shouted back, her voice bouncing strangely through the hollow. "Are you hurt?"
A groan answered first, Caelan, unmistakable. "Define hurt!"
Marienne's voice followed, strained but steady. "We're alive. Mostly."
Aelindra exhaled shakily.
She helped Severin sit upright, bracing him against a slab of fallen rock. Only then did she take inventory of herself, scraped palms, bruised ribs, a deep ache along her back that promised pain later. Nothing immediately fatal.
Her hands were still faintly glowing.
She hadn't noticed when it started again.
Threads of gold pulsed beneath her skin, subtle but undeniable, responding to something in the air, or something in her.
Fear flickered at the edges of her awareness.
Not sharp. Not consuming.
Unstable.
She swallowed, forcing her breathing to remain steady. This place amplified everything, Arveth had warned them. Emotion. Magic. Memory.
The fear wasn't hers alone.
It was the mountain's.
It was the echo of something ancient remembering how to hunt.
"Ael…" Severin murmured, watching her hands. "Your palms…"
"I know," she said quietly. "Don't focus on it."
He caught her wrist gently, grounding, his thumb brushing the inside of her palm. The glow dimmed slightly at the contact, as if soothed.
"You're anchoring me," he said, voice rough. "Even now."
She met his gaze. "Good."
Footsteps crunched over stone as Caelan emerged from the shadows, dragging Mira with him. His face was scraped, one sleeve torn clean through, but he was grinning with the manic brightness of someone who had absolutely almost died.
"Well," he said breathlessly, looking around. "This is… new."
Marienne followed more carefully, bow still clutched in hand, eyes sharp and scanning every shadow. Arveth came last.
The old mage looked… shaken.
Not afraid.
Shaken.
He planted his staff against the ground, listening, not with ears, but with something deeper. His jaw was set hard, knuckles white where he gripped the wood.
"This place," he murmured. "It shouldn't exist."
Caelan snorted weakly. "Funny, it looks pretty real to me."
"It's a hollow," Arveth said grimly. "A buried artery of the Range. Sealed off centuries ago."
"Why?" Mira asked.
Arveth's gaze lifted slowly, sweeping the cavern, the glowing veins, the endless dark below.
"Because something here could not be destroyed," he said. "Only buried."
Silence settled thickly over them.
Aelindra felt Severin tense beside her.
"The Eidolon," he said quietly.
"Yes," Arveth confirmed. "Or something akin to it. A heart-source. A feeder."
Caelan's expression darkened. "And let me guess, this thing really likes our prince."
Severin flinched.
Aelindra shot Caelan a sharp look. "Not now."
He held up his hands. "Right. Sorry."
Arveth turned toward Aelindra then, his gaze sharpening as it fixed on her glowing hands. "You felt it again."
She nodded slowly. "Fear. But… wrong. Like it wasn't entirely mine."
"Because it isn't," Arveth said. "The Range amplifies what already exists within you. Magic. Memory. Trauma." His voice dropped. "And warnings."
Her stomach twisted. "Warnings from where?"
"From whatever your gift is tied to," he said carefully. "And we don't yet know what that is."
Severin's grip tightened subtly on her wrist.
"That part where you told me not to fight it?" she asked. "What were you afraid would happen?"
Arveth hesitated.
Then, "That you would suppress something meant to surface. Or worse, fracture it."
Aelindra absorbed that in silence.
The glow beneath her skin pulsed once, like a slow heartbeat.
The cavern answered.
A distant rumble rolled through the depths, low and resonant, vibrating up through the stone and into their bones. Dust drifted from above. The glowing veins brightened in response.
Mira sucked in a breath. "That wasn't the mountain settling, was it?"
"No," Arveth said softly. "That was awareness."
Severin pushed himself upright despite Aelindra's immediate protest. "Then we need to move. Now."
"Move where?" Caelan demanded. "Down?"
Arveth nodded grimly. "The fall didn't kill us because it wasn't meant to. This hollow is a throat. And the only way out...
"...is through," Marienne finished quietly.
Another rumble answered her words, closer this time.
Aelindra stood, ignoring the ache screaming through her body. The moment her boots hit the stone, the glow in her hands intensified, responding not to fear, but to proximity.
Whatever lay below felt her.
And she felt it.
Not hunger.
Not hatred.
Recognition.
She swallowed hard, steadying herself, forcing caution where panic wanted to bloom.
"Then we go carefully," she said. "Together."
Severin looked at her like she was the only solid thing left in the world. "I'm not leaving your side."
"Good," she replied quietly. "Because I don't think this place will let us separate."
They moved as one, descending deeper into the hollow as the Umbral Range closed around them, stone breathing, magic stirring, something ancient shifting in its sleep.
Above them, the world they knew was gone.
Below them, something waited.
And Aelindra, glowing hands clenched at her sides, walked forward, not fearless, but steady, into the depths that had called her name long before she ever learned how to listen.
The ground beneath her boots was not stone.
It yielded slightly, like packed ash or old bone ground smooth by time. Each step sent a dull vibration up her legs, as though the cavern itself were aware of her weight, her presence. The glow in her palms dimmed and flared in uneven pulses, responding to something she could not see.
Behind her, the others followed more slowly.
Their footsteps sounded wrong down here, too loud, too close, swallowed almost instantly by the thick, pressing dark. The air tasted metallic, sharp on the tongue. Every breath felt borrowed.
Somewhere deeper within the hollow, something shifted.
Not movement.
Awareness.
Aelindra's spine prickled. Fear? not quite, but the same uneasy sensation she felt when standing at the edge of a memory that wasn't hers. The Range pressed in on her senses, amplifying every thought, every doubt, every echo of power beneath her skin.
Her hands burned.
Not painfully.
Insistently.
The gold beneath her skin traced unfamiliar paths, veins lighting and fading like a language half-remembered. She didn't fight it. Fighting, she suspected, would be worse.
Ahead, the tunnel widened into a vast chamber, its ceiling lost to darkness. Pale fissures ran along the walls, glowing faintly with residual magic, ancient, unstable, wrong. At the center yawned a deeper chasm, breathing cold air upward in slow, rhythmic drafts.
Severin stumbled slightly behind her.
Aelindra stopped instantly, turning back, her glow flaring brighter without her willing it.
"I'm here," she said, voice steady despite the hollow echo. "No one moves alone."
The depths did not answer.
But they listened.
And far below, something old shifted in its sleep, stirred not by sound, but by the quiet, dangerous recognition of her presence.