The morning after the unsettling encounter in the depths of the ruins, Sylas stood at the window of his study, staring out over the city of Rivenhart. The sun was still low, casting long shadows over the cobbled streets, but his mind was far from the peaceful scene. His thoughts churned, consumed by the cryptic message he'd received from the entity below.
The balance is broken.
He clenched his fists at his sides. What did that mean? And more importantly, why was it him who had been called to this mystery?
Alira's voice broke through his reverie.
"You're brooding again."
Sylas turned to see her leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. Despite her usual calm, there was an edge in her tone, a subtle concern that made her appear a little more human than usual.
"I'm thinking," he said quietly. "About what happened down there. And what I saw. That… thing." He paused, his expression hardening. "I don't trust it."
Alira raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Of course you don't. But it's still a lead. A dangerous one, yes, but a lead."
She stepped into the room, walking to the map on the table that had been spread out the night before. Her fingers brushed lightly over the contours of the city and the surrounding lands, tracing an invisible path to the heart of the problem.
"You said it wanted something," she continued, not looking at him. "What was it?"
"I don't know," Sylas muttered, stepping closer. "But it's not just idle talk. The shadow—it was alive in a way I've never felt before. And it was manipulating the air itself. If this place, if the balance of the city itself is tied to that thing… then we're in deeper than I thought."
Alira turned her gaze to him then, eyes narrowing slightly. "So, what's the next step?"
Sylas took a deep breath. "We need to go back. Not to the ruins—I need to see if there are more of these disturbances. We need to find out where the power beneath Rivenhart is coming from."
She hesitated for a moment, weighing the risk, but then nodded. "I'll prepare the horses. We'll leave at dawn."
They traveled in silence, the air thick with the weight of unspoken words. As they passed through the city gates, the land around them grew more desolate. The once-green fields that surrounded the city were now barren, crops withered, and even the trees seemed to shrink back from the weight of the unseen force lurking below.
As they ventured deeper into the wilderness, Sylas could feel the power of the place tugging at him—an invisible thread that wound around his chest, pulling him forward. It was like an old, forgotten song, faint yet persistent, echoing through his bones.
Their destination wasn't far, but it felt like they were heading into an entirely different world. The landscape grew harsher, more unforgiving, and the weather began to turn cold. A mist rolled in, clinging to the ground like a blanket, obscuring their vision.
Finally, they arrived at an old, abandoned fortress—its broken stone walls barely standing against the passage of time. This was where the map had pointed them, the location marked in faded ink.
Sylas dismounted, his boots crunching on the frost-covered earth. He felt the air shift as he approached the fortress, the oppressive silence amplifying the sound of his footsteps. He looked at Alira, who had been unusually quiet since their arrival.
"Something feels off here," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Sylas nodded. "I can feel it too. It's as if the land itself is holding its breath."
They stepped forward together, entering the fortress through a crumbling archway. The inside was colder than the outside, the shadows deeper and more consuming. The remnants of ancient statues lined the hallways, their faces weathered and worn, but still imposing.
They reached the center of the fortress, a large open chamber with high vaulted ceilings. In the center of the room, a massive stone altar lay covered in dust and debris. But something else was there too. A faint, glowing symbol had been carved into the stone floor, pulsating with an eerie light.
Sylas knelt beside it, his fingers hovering just above the surface. The symbol was unmistakable—it was the same one that had been etched into the walls of the ruin beneath the city. This was where it all began.
"What is this?" Alira asked, her voice tinged with awe. "This isn't just some relic. It feels… alive."
"It's not just a symbol," Sylas muttered, his gaze intense. "It's a seal. A barrier. And I think it's been broken."
As if to confirm his words, the symbol flickered once, then expanded across the floor, spreading like veins through the stone. The ground trembled beneath their feet.
"Get back!" Sylas shouted, grabbing Alira by the arm and pulling her away from the altar.
But it was too late.
A low rumble filled the room, and the walls began to shake. The floor cracked open, a dark abyss revealing itself beneath the fortress, stretching deep into the earth. From the depths, an echoing voice reverberated through the chamber.
You have come too late. The hollow is free.
Sylas turned, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword. The entity that had spoken was not one of flesh—it was something far older, something far more dangerous.
As the room plunged into darkness, the floor beneath them gave way, and they were both pulled into the abyss.