The Descent
The ancient door groaned as it slid open, revealing a spiraling staircase carved deep into the rock. Cold air rushed from below, carrying the scent of damp stone and something else—something forgotten.
The boy hesitated at the threshold. Every instinct screamed at him to turn back.
But he couldn't.
His mother was in the Obsidian Tower, and this was his only way in.
The Queen of Shadows placed a hand on his shoulder. "Once we go down, there's no turning back."
Marek let out a low chuckle. "Good. I was getting bored anyway."
The hooded figure said nothing, but the shadows around them seemed to deepen.
The boy tightened his grip on the dagger at his waist.
Then he stepped into the abyss.
---
The Voices Below
The further they descended, the colder it became. The walls, once smooth, now bore strange carvings—figures twisted in agony, runes that glowed faintly in the dark.
The sigil on the boy's wrist pulsed in response.
Then, he heard them.
Whispers.
Not from his companions, but from the walls themselves.
Faint. Echoing.
"Turn back."
"You are not ready."
"He is waiting."
His breath caught. "Do you hear that?"
The Queen glanced at him. "No."
Marek frowned. "Hear what?"
The whispers grew louder, swirling in his mind like a storm. His vision blurred—
Then—
A flash of something.
A memory not his own.
A great battle. Shadows twisting against blinding light. A figure standing alone, wielding the same sigil that burned on his wrist.
And then—darkness.
The boy gasped, stumbling forward.
The Queen caught his arm. "What did you see?"
He swallowed hard. "Something that happened a long time ago."
The hooded figure finally spoke. "The past lingers here. Be careful. If you listen too closely, you may never leave."
The boy clenched his fists.
He didn't have time for ghosts.
He had to keep moving.
---
The Forsaken Chamber
The stairs ended at a vast underground hall, its ceiling lost in shadows. At the center stood a massive stone platform, covered in the same strange runes from before.
But something else drew his eye.
A throne.
Not of gold or jewels, but of black stone, cracked and worn with age. Chains hung from its arms, their ends severed as if something had once been bound there.
The boy felt his pulse quicken.
The sigil on his wrist burned hotter.
The Queen of Shadows moved cautiously. "This place…"
Marek knelt beside the throne, running a hand over the broken chains. "A prison?"
The hooded figure's voice was quiet. "Or a tomb."
Then—
The runes on the platform flared to life.
A deep, guttural voice echoed through the chamber.
"Who dares disturb my rest?"
The shadows thickened, coiling around the throne. A shape began to rise, towering, ancient, eyes like dying embers.
The boy's heart pounded.
Whatever they had just awakened—
It wasn't human.
---
The Guardian of Secrets
The figure fully emerged from the darkness, clad in armor that had long since rusted, its skeletal frame draped in tattered robes. Chains rattled around its form, some still attached to the throne behind it.
The boy felt an undeniable pressure pressing down on him, as if the air itself had grown heavier.
The Queen of Shadows stood firm, her gaze locked onto the creature. "Who are you?"
The entity's hollow eyes burned. "I was once the Keeper of the First Gate."
The hooded figure took a slow step forward. "And now?"
The Keeper's voice rumbled like thunder. "Now, I am nothing. Bound to a forgotten war. Forgotten… but not gone."
The boy swallowed hard. "We seek passage."
The Keeper regarded him for a long moment. Then, it lifted one skeletal hand—
And pointed directly at him.
"You bear the Mark of the Forsaken."
The boy tensed. "What does that mean?"
The Keeper stepped forward, the chains dragging across the stone. "It means you were never meant to exist."
Silence.
The words hung in the air like a death sentence.
The Queen's expression darkened. "Explain."
The Keeper's gaze never left the boy. "Your bloodline was erased from history. The Empire did not merely hunt your kind. They erased them."
The boy's hands clenched into fists.
His entire life, he had been running. Hiding.
And now—
He knew why.
The Empire hadn't just been trying to kill him.
They had been trying to erase him.
The Queen's voice was cold. "And yet he stands before you."
The Keeper was silent. Then—
A slow, rattling chuckle.
"Indeed. Perhaps fate has a cruel sense of humor."
The runes on the floor shifted, forming a new path. A hidden door at the far end of the chamber groaned open, revealing another staircase leading further down.
The Keeper stepped aside. "The path is open."
The boy hesitated. "What's waiting for us down there?"
The Keeper's eyes gleamed.
"Truth."
The boy exhaled.
Then, without another word, he stepped forward—
And into the unknown.
---
Descent into Darkness
The Stairs of Forgotten Truths
The steps stretched downward into an abyss of shadows. The air was thick, carrying the weight of countless years, of memories long buried.
The boy took the first step. The sigil on his wrist pulsed with every heartbeat, like a whisper guiding him forward.
Behind him, the Queen of Shadows followed, her gaze sharp and unreadable. Marek walked with his usual swagger, though his fingers never strayed far from his weapons. The hooded figure moved like a ghost, silent, watching.
As they descended, the whispers returned.
But this time, they were different.
"You do not belong."
"Turn back."
"He waits below."
The boy clenched his fists. He would not stop now.
Not when he was so close to the truth.
---
The Hall of Echoes
The stairs ended at a vast chamber, its walls lined with massive stone tablets. Runes covered their surfaces, shifting and flickering as if alive.
In the center of the room stood a single pedestal, upon which rested an ancient tome, its cover blackened with age.
The Queen approached it cautiously. "This place…"
Marek let out a low whistle. "Looks like a history lesson waiting to happen."
The hooded figure stepped forward, their voice barely above a whisper. "No. This is more than history."
Their gloved hand hovered over the tome. The air around it crackled.
"This is the Empire's greatest secret."
The boy stepped closer. His fingers brushed the cover—
The moment he touched it, the chamber shuddered.
The runes on the walls flared, and the whispers rose into a deafening chorus.
The past was waking up.
---
Visions of the Lost War
The boy's vision blurred. The world twisted around him—
And suddenly, he was no longer in the chamber.
He stood in the middle of a battlefield.
The sky burned red. Titans of light and shadow clashed in the heavens. Warriors wielding weapons of pure energy fought against beings wreathed in darkness.
At the center of it all stood a man.
Cloaked in black armor, a sigil glowing on his wrist—the same as the boy's.
He raised his sword, and the world trembled.
But before the boy could see more—
Pain lanced through him.
The vision shattered.
He collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath.
The Queen of Shadows was beside him instantly. "What did you see?"
The boy shook his head. "A war. A battle long ago." He gritted his teeth. "And someone like me."
Marek frowned. "Like you?"
The hooded figure's voice was grim. "No. Not just like him."
They turned to face the boy fully.
"That was the last of your kind."
Silence.
The words echoed in his mind.
The last.
The sigil on his wrist was not just a mark.
It was a legacy.
And the Empire had been trying to erase it for centuries.
---
The Empire's Sin
The Queen of Shadows exhaled. "So that's why they hunt you."
Marek crossed his arms. "They're afraid."
The hooded figure nodded. "The Forsaken Bloodline was erased because they were the only ones who could stand against the Empire's true rulers."
The boy's heart pounded. "Who are they?"
The hooded figure hesitated.
Then, they reached up—
And pulled back their hood.
For the first time, the boy saw their face.
And his breath caught.
Because they were not human.
Their eyes were silver, their skin marked with ancient runes. Power radiated from them in waves.
They were not just an informant.
They were one of the last survivors of the war he had just witnessed.
A relic of the past.
A being that should not exist.
The boy took a step back. "Who… what are you?"
The figure's silver eyes burned.
"I am the last guardian of the truth."
Their voice dropped to a whisper.
"And the truth is this—"
They turned to the tome.
"The Empire's greatest enemy… was never the Forsaken Bloodline."
The air in the room became stifling.
The Queen's expression darkened. "Then who?"
The figure placed a hand on the book. The runes on its surface flared one last time.
Then, they spoke the words that changed everything.
"The true enemy… was the Emperor himself."
---
End of Chapter 18.