Chapter Ten: The Heart of Ruin
The tower loomed like a broken sword against the gray sky.
Kain burst through the shattered doors, his lungs burning, his hands crackling faintly with suppressed energy.
Inside, the air was thick—heavy with dust, old power, and something else... something alive.
The Black Hunters were right behind him.
Their footsteps echoed like drums of war.
Kain sprinted up the cracked spiral staircase, ignoring the crumbling stones and the sickening lurch of the ancient structure.
At the top, he found it:
A room untouched by time.
Carved into the floor was a massive circle, inlaid with sigils that pulsed faintly with a deep blue light.
And at the center of it all—
—a black crystal throne.
But it wasn't empty.
A figure sat upon it.
It was a man, or at least what had once been a man. His skin was stone, his eyes closed, his body fused with the crystal itself.
In one hand, he clutched a broken sword.
In the other, a seal of intricate silver, still glowing with hidden life.
Kain barely had time to register the scene before the first Hunter lunged at him.
Instinct took over.
He dodged, weaving between the ancient pillars, leading the Hunters into the circle.
The sigils flared brighter at their approach.
And the fused figure finally moved.
Its eyes snapped open—pits of pure light—and its stone mouth split into a terrible, grinding smile.
"A Heir... and the cursed bloodhounds. Perfect."
The crystal around the throne shattered, sending shards flying through the air.
The stone figure rose, dragging the broken sword behind him.
The Hunters paused, uncertain.
The air trembled with a new presence—a third force, ancient and wrathful, neither with Kain nor with the Hunters.
Kain realized with a cold shock:
He wasn't the prey anymore.
He wasn't the hunter either.
They were all trapped here...
...with something worse.
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