The sun never truly rose over the city beneath the bones. A false dawn shimmered beyond the cracks in the stone ceiling—light filtered through centuries of dust and ruin, casting a pale, sickly hue over the world below. Eira stirred from where she had dozed against Lucien's shoulder, the weight of the vial still nestled in the folds of her cloak.
The group roused quietly. No words were exchanged—only glances. They were past the point of questioning why they continued forward. It was instinct now. Survival. Destiny. All braided into one.
Eira rose slowly, brushing ash from her skirt. Her body still buzzed with the memory of the Hollow Heart's magic, and the image of the veiled figure haunted the corners of her vision.
"Where to now?" Lyselle asked, already stringing her bow.
Eira looked down at the map they had recovered weeks before, its edges burned and faded. But one symbol remained clearly etched—a spiral descending deeper still, far beneath the Hollow Heart.
"There's one last layer," she said. "It's buried even deeper. I think it's where they sealed the source of all this. The throne, the blood, the veil… everything connects down there."
Lucien stepped beside her. "Then that's where we're going."
Descent Into the Forgotten Vault
They followed a hidden path revealed by the crumbling of the sanctum walls. Winding and narrow, it descended through corridors carved of dark obsidian—walls etched with runes that shimmered faintly as Eira passed them.
With every step, the air grew colder.
"What do you think we'll find?" Ravien asked, voice hushed.
Eira didn't answer. She couldn't.
Because deep in her bones, something was calling.
The Garden of Echoes
After hours of descent, the narrow tunnel gave way to an impossible sight.
A cavern stretched before them, vast and circular, its ceiling lost to darkness. In its center, a garden bloomed—lush and alive, despite the dead stone surrounding it. Silver flowers glowed softly in the dim light. Crystalline vines wrapped around pillars that rose like ancient trees.
And in the middle of it all stood a crystal tree, its roots coiled around a blackened stone tomb.
Eira stepped forward, drawn in. "This is…"
"The source," Valtherion finished for her. "The true beginning. Before kings. Before vampires. Before blood was used to chain time itself."
The group fanned out cautiously, examining the strange flora.
Lucien touched a vine and winced. "It's alive. It knows we're here."
Suddenly, the flowers began to hum.
A low, resonant note, vibrating the air.
Then, from the shadows, something moved.
The Last Guardian
It emerged like mist—formless at first, then solidifying into the shape of a woman. Her eyes glowed white, hair flowing like ink in water, and her skin shimmered like starlight.
"I have waited long," the guardian said. "For the key to awaken. For the gate to open."
Eira stepped forward. "I am Eira. And I… I carry the key. But I don't know what to do with it."
The guardian tilted her head. "You carry more than the key. You carry choice. The last and oldest power."
Eira glanced at the tomb beneath the crystal tree. "Who is buried there?"
"My maker," the guardian whispered. "The first soul who dared to steal divinity. Who fractured the balance. The one who cursed your world with eternal hunger."
Valtherion went still. "The First King."
The guardian nodded.
"You may open the tomb," she said softly. "And face him. Or you may leave. Seal the vault forever, and bury this truth."
The air grew thick with magic. The moment was real. Final.
Eira turned to her companions. "This could be the end. Or the beginning. I won't force you to stay."
Lucien met her gaze. "Where you go, I go."
Lyselle and Ravien nodded.
Valtherion said nothing—but he drew his blade.
The Tomb Unsealed
Eira stepped toward the tomb, holding the vial in one hand and her breath in the other. She pressed her hand to the seal.
It melted beneath her touch.
The crystal tree dimmed.
The ground trembled.
And the tomb slowly slid open.
Inside was not a corpse—but a man, encased in shimmering silver. His eyes snapped open, glowing crimson. Hair long and pale as snow. A crown of broken stars rested on his brow.
The First King had awakened.
His gaze locked onto Eira.
"I've waited for you," he said.