He peered into the inky blackness of the hole, the faint echoes of the diamond's descent still lingering in the air. He still couldn't fathom its depth.
"Should I go inside?" he murmured, a thrill of both fear and excitement coursing through him. "No, I don't think I should. I can't see anything." The sensible part of his mind, the one Adima had diligently nurtured, reined in the impulsive curiosity.
Just then, the familiar sound of Adima's light footsteps echoed from the palace chamber door. Panic flared. He quickly slapped his palm over the hole in the ancient tree's trunk, his nascent wood-shaping magic instinctively weaving new bark to conceal the opening. Years of living in the palace had instilled in him the need for secrecy, especially regarding anything he discovered on his own.
Day in, day out, a rhythm settled. Areion would lose himself in the stillness of meditation, the crackling energy of his paranh slowly becoming more familiar. He would then spar with Adima, each session a humbling lesson in the vastness of her skill. And in the quiet hours between, his fascination with the hole in the tree persisted. He'd often pick up pebbles, imbuing them with weak bursts of transmutation magic, only to hear them shatter on the first unseen obstacle within the darkness. The depth remained a mystery.
"Transmutation is not enough," he muttered one afternoon, turning a rough shard of rock over in his small hands. "Because whenever I throw it inside, the rock shatters on the first bump; changing elements won't work." He needed something more resilient, something that could carry light into the abyss.
He focused his will on the pebble, not just altering its composition, but refining its very essence. He envisioned light trapped within, forcing the dull grey to shimmer. "Changing elements won't work," he repeated, a new idea sparking. "But perhaps… enhancing what's already there?"
He poured his paranh Into the stone, not with brute force, but with delicate precision, coaxing its latent crystalline structure to the surface. The pebble began to glow, a soft, internal luminescence. But it wasn't enough. He pushed further, the glow intensifying, becoming almost violent. Sweat beaded on his forehead, the strain of manipulating the energy at such a refined level taking its toll.
Minutes stretched into an eternity as he meticulously shaped the energy and matter, his vision blurring at the edges. Finally, the raw pebble transformed into a shining diamond, facets catching the sunlight in a dazzling display. It pulsed with a soft, internal light, a beacon against the unknown darkness.
[Yes, I did it. It's small but it might just work. Mixture of 3 fundamentals. Transmutation, manipulation and augmentation. I could've done it with just Transmutation and augmentation but well I don't know if I will get chances like this.]
He walked towards the tree, his heart pounding with anticipation. He held the diamond above the hole for a moment, admiring its brilliance, before letting it fall. He listened intently as the gem tumbled downwards, the faint sounds of it bumping against unseen surfaces echoing in the stillness. But these weren't the dull thuds of shattering rock. These were sharper, clearer. And then, for a fleeting few seconds, as the diamond bounced off a particularly smooth surface, a faint, reflected light flickered back up the shaft, revealing glimpses of a jagged, downward-sloping tunnel lined with what appeared to be more gemstones. The light vanished as the diamond continued its descent. After a few more seconds, a final, softer thud reached his ears, followed by a sustained, diffused glow emanating from the depths.
"Deep," he breathed, his eyes wide with wonder. "Really deep… should I go inside? I really want to." The allure of the unknown was a powerful pull, a siren song echoing in his heart.
He quickly covered the hole again, the image of the glowing tunnel imprinted in his mind. He settled into a meditative posture, trying to quell the rising tide of his curiosity.
[So grandma comes after every two days, trains me for a few hours, and leaves me to self-train again for two days.] The thought solidified his nascent plan.
[If I get in the tunnel during that time, I can see what's inside; whatever it is, it's attracting me like metal to a magnet. Curiosity of it devouring my mind. Is my current body effecting my actions?] He knew Adima wouldn't approve of such an unsupervised exploration, especially if it proved dangerous. But the pull was too strong to ignore.
The familiar sound of Adima's voice startled him from his reverie. He hadn't even noticed her approach.
"Areion."
He yelped, falling back on his butt. "Is this enough, Arya, my child?" she asked, a knowing glint in her eyes.
He scrambled to his feet, dusting off his small clothes. "You're just too strong, Granny, but I will pass. No matter what, you'll see." He puffed out his chest, trying to project an air of confidence he didn't entirely feel.
She grinned, a flash of white teeth in her warm face. "I'm waiting for day two." She began walking towards the palace door. "But we still have time for that," she added, a playful lilt in her voice before the heavy wooden door closed behind her, leaving him alone once more.
The moment the latch clicked, Areion's carefully constructed façade crumbled. He turned back to the ancient tree, his earlier resolve hardening into action. With a surge of paranh, he focused on the newly grown wood concealing the hole, not weaving, but unraveling. With a sharp crack, a large section of the trunk splintered and fell away, revealing the dark maw of the tunnel once more.
The air immediately felt different near the opening, thicker, carrying a faint, earthy scent. Areion edged closer to the chasm, his breath hitching at the sight of the abyss yawning beneath him. The tunnel's visible walls were jagged and uneven, like the teeth.
He hesitated for onl" a moment before stepping into the darkness. As his foot touched the unseen floor, a soft, ethereal glow bloomed beneath him. Made of simple use of manipulation and augmentation on walls. One by one, slabs of luminous stone unfurled from the darkness ahead, creating a precarious staircase into the depths. The light pulsed faintly, a gentle guide in the oppressive gloom. With each step onto a new slab, the previous one dimmed, leaving him with only the immediate path illuminated.
He continued walking down, the air growing cooler and heavier with each step. The darkness beyond the glowing slabs deepened, swallowing any hint of the tunnel's true dimensions. He focused on the path beneath his feet, trusting the magic to guide him. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the glowing staircase ended, and he stepped onto solid, albeit uneven, ground.
It was still dark, but not silent. A faint, rhythmic sound permeated the air, like soft, distant breaths. "I need a light source. It's dark as hell; thankfully I'm not afraid of darkness, or I would've lost my mind." He focused his inner energy, channeling a small amount of paranh into his eyes. The world around him flickered into a dim, greyish view, enough to make out the immediate surroundings. "I can see now faintly, but at least it's better than nothing."
He quickly retrieved a bunch of small, smooth stones knotted in his scarf. He held each one, imbuing it with a concentrated burst of paranh to make it glow, then carefully shaping the energy to crystallize the stone into a small, luminous gem. He knew from his earlier experiment that simple magic-imbued stones wouldn't survive the journey. These gems would serve as both stepping stones, if needed, and a trail to mark his path back.
He continued walking on what seemed to be the main tunnel, dropping a glowing gem every few paces, the faint light illuminating the rough-hewn walls. He refilled his scarf with more stones whenever he ran low, the process becoming a monotonous cycle. Hours passed, marked only by the steady rhythm of his footsteps and the soft glow of the gems he left behind. Yet, he seemed to be reaching nowhere of significance, the tunnel stretching endlessly before him.
"What is the meaning of this large underground cave?" he muttered, his breath catching in his throat. The air was becoming noticeably thinner, making each inhalation a conscious effort. "Even breathing is difficult here; if I had come here before training with Granny Adima, I would have died of hunger, lack of air, and water." He sank onto the cold, damp ground, exhaustion finally catching up to him. He settled into a meditation mudra, trying to conserve his energy and focus his thoughts.
[Is there something valuable that I can make use of? Or is it just a useless expedition?] Doubt began to creep into his mind, the endless tunnel and the oppressive atmosphere weighing on his youthful enthusiasm.
After a brief rest, he pushed himself to his feet, the allure of the unknown still a powerful motivator. "Even if there is nothing to make use of or discover, I still continue because…" He paused, a flicker of memories from a life he barely remembered surfacing. "…I have nothing valuable to do; risks are important, risks that I didn't take in my previous life, only thinking to myself if I just took a risk to live my life, where would I be…?" He shook his head, banishing the fleeting melancholy. "No, not this time. I'm not coward enough to lose another chance at hand."
He pressed onward, his determination fueled by a vague sense of purpose he couldn't quite articulate. After a few more hours of continuous walking, he heard a distinct sound cutting through the faint breathing-like murmur of the cave: the unmistakable sound of flapping wings. His enchanted vision provided only a limited sphere of light, and he stopped, his senses on high alert.
[What is that? Bats? Does this world have bats?] The thought sent a shiver down his spine.
He focused his paranh, intensifying the glow in his eyes. The dim light extended a few more meters, revealing a sight that made his blood run cold. They were everywhere. Clinging to the cavern's ceiling just a few meters in front of him, like grotesque, upside-down fruit, their leathery wings folded tight to spindle-thin bodies. Dozens. Hundreds. Their faces—not quite bats, but something far more disturbing—twisted into uncanny shapes: elongated jaws bristling with needle-sharp teeth, eyes lidless and milky white, reflecting his spell's glow in fractured, unsettling patterns. They swayed silently, a macabre chandelier of sinew and claw.
One stirred. A wing unfurled with a dry, rustling sound like ancient parchment, revealing membranous spans veined with a network of phosphorescent blue. His pulse spiked. The magic in his eyes throbbed In response, casting jagged, dancing shadows as the creature cocked its head… and stared directly at him.
He Instinctively stepped back, trying to make the movement as subtle as possible, but he knew it was already too late. The creature's milky eyes locked onto his. Its elongated jaw shuddered, the needle teeth clicking together like dry bones tossed into a fire. Then—a sound. Not a screech, not a hiss, but a whimper. Low and wet, it reverberated through the cavern, a sound of profound, unsettling sorrow. A single, glistening tear welled in the corner of its lidless eye, glowing faintly cyan, as if its sadness were made of poison. The droplet fell, sizzling audibly as it struck the cave floor, carving a tiny, smoking crater into the stone.
A ripple of movement spread through the horde above. The tear's eerie glow seemed to infect the others like a contagion. Wings snapped open in unison, the blue veins pulsing with an intensified light, as their whimpers swelled into a dissonant chorus—guttural sobs mingling with the sharp clatter of their claws on the stone ceiling. The air filled with a cloying, sickeningly sweet reek of ammonia and burnt sugar.
Areion stumbled back, his enchanted vision flickering under the intensity of their collective sorrow. He knew, with a chilling certainty, that he had stumbled upon something ancient and deeply, profoundly sad. And he had no idea what to do next.