Kael
The echo of her words clings to the stone.
Run, my child.
The sound isn’t hers, yet it’s inside my skull—vibrating behind my eyes, reverberating through the mark on my wrist until it feels as though the skin itself is speaking.
My eyes squeeze shut, biting down on the pain lacing up my arm. And then they come—images, not memories.
Soldiers dressed in silver and gold. Blinding flashes of light. Black blood splashing over stone. The Triarch. Power cracking the air apart. Wisps of shadow torn by light.
Screaming. So much screaming. So much death.
I palm the ache that’s forming behind my eyes, but the pulse under the mark beats harder—defiant, syncing with the runes.
Shaking my head to clear the vision, I look to Seren.
She stands at the pool’s edge, drenched and trembling. The fragility I saw before is gone, replaced by something that has carved her into something sharper. Her eyes catch what little light remains, reflecting not the red of the veins in the walls, but a ring of violet.
“Seren,” the name comes out as a rasped whisper.
She doesn’t look back. Her shadows coil around her feet like obedient pets, a faint blue sheen turning their darkness liquid. She seems to hear something else—something I can’t.
Do you hear me, child of the light?
My muscles freeze. Icy fingers trail down my spine, causing the flame within me to shrivel into a small, blue ember.
The voice cuts clean through the ringing in my ears. It isn’t Seren’s, and it isn’t mine. It’s a soft, melodic tone—the same one that spoke through her in the chamber.
“No,” I mutter.
“What?” Seren snaps, turning suddenly.
“Nothing.” I shake my head too fast, the motion sending a pulse of agony through my wrist. I pull back my sleeve; the skin is raw, the veins lit faintly like fire under glass. I tug the fabric lower, hiding the evidence.
A draft creeps down from the cracks above, carrying motes of stone and the distant baying of the Light’s hounds.
“They’re coming. We have to move.”
She doesn’t budge. “Let them come.”
“Seren—”
“I’m not afraid of them anymore.”
“You should be.” The words cut sharp, like a threat. “Whatever you woke in this place may have given you courage, but you’re still someone they can break.”
She looks at me then, and the universe narrows down to the violet ring of her gaze. For a heartbeat, I forget what language to think in. There is power behind her eyes, but also something heartbreakingly calm—like the tide deciding whether to drown or spare the shore.
“I have to find the others,” she says.
“What others?”
“She told me there are two more shrines. Two more of her.”
Her voice doesn’t tremble when she speaks of a goddess. It should terrify me, yet, the only thing I feel is my mark burning brighter—a warning or a summons.
“Then we move,” I rush toward her. I reach for her arm before hesitating, my hand hovering in the cold air. “Before the guards reach the tunnels.”
She tilts her head, her expression almost a smile. “You’re coming with me?”
“Apparently,” I try for levity, but the words come out rough. “Someone has to make sure you don’t fall into another abyss.”
A faint laugh leaves her lips—short, strange, and almost normal.
Her shadows point us in the direction of a passageway carved into the raw rock. We follow; Seren leads, and I cover the rear. The mark on my wrist sears with every step, the spirit of a woman’s laughter curling through my thoughts.
You must help her, son of the light.
The voice crawls under my skin. I don’t know if I’m hearing salvation or a death sentence.
“Why?” I whisper.
She will rebuild the darkness and restore the balance you so desperately crave.
Power surges behind my eyes, illuminating Seren’s back. I watch her follow the shadows, her arms scraping the sides of the stone walls for guidance. I slow my pace, increasing the distance between us.
“But why me?”
You have been touched by the darkness; it spreads through your soul like a virus. I can feel it. Touch it. Almost. Help her, and I will strip away the shadows from you—the ones you pretend are faith.
I stumble, catching myself against the damp wall.
The voice fades, but the weight of her presence remains—a cold anchor moored in my mind.
Ahead, Seren’s silhouette cuts through the dark like a blade.
She doesn’t look back, and I’m glad. I don’t want her to see how afraid I am.
I don’t want her to see that my path is utterly lost without a guiding light.
* * *
We run for what feels like forever. The tunnels twist in ways no map records. Every breath tastes of rust and forgotten prayers.
“Seren—” The words choke in my throat, tangled in a ragged need for air.
The deeper we descend, the thicker the atmosphere becomes.
She turns, her shadows crawling over her arms like a serpent.
Her breathing is laboured, yet no sweat slicks her brow; no fatigue lines her features. She looks untouchable.
“Yes?” she breathes, noticing the quizzical look I’m giving her. “Those of us born to the dark aren’t as weak as you think.”
“I—” I keel over, hands bracing against my knees. “I never thought your people were weak.”
“You certainly treated me that way.”
“My duty required it.” My teeth clench.
“And now? Am I still weak to you, Lightborne?”
I bite down harder as she scoffs. Her gaze travels slowly down my body, lingering before our gazes finally meet. Her lip curls in a distaste that rings loud in the quiet—yet my skin flushes, and my chest jolts.
“Duty,” she says, the word a sneer. “Your kind has a funny way of idolising dissemblers. ”
“Watch your tongue, Shadowborne.”
“Why?” She steps closer until our breaths entwine.
I inch forward until the crown of her head skims my chin.
I snarl, “You underestimate me, Seren.” Her name tastes sweet on my tongue, the flavour lingering long after I speak.
“We’re wasting time,” I say. “It must be dark by now, and we haven’t heard footsteps since we stopped.
We should find somewhere to rest until we can move on. ”
We push further into the tunnels, the darkness becoming a blanket. There’s no trace of pursuers—only an oppressive, taut silence.
The comfort of safety becomes an illusion I embrace, allowing light to bloom from my hand. I hold it upright, the orange glow illuminating my skin like flesh pressed against a lamp.
Seren’s gaze snaps to my palm, her mouth twisting into a thin, bitter line. “Why didn’t you use that earlier?”
“It wasn’t safe until now,” I snap back. “You’ve never been bothered by the dark before.” She stares at me, weighing whether my concern has ever truly been for our safety.
“We’ve been running blindly for hours! A little light would have helped.”
A growl forms deep in my chest. I step toward her, my own anger radiating in the small space. “I’m trying to keep us alive. Get your shadows to scout for a place to rest.”
She closes the gap, stepping into my space. “Next time you have something that can help us, just bloody use it,” she snarls.
She turns on her heel and calls to her shadows. A tendril dips, nodding its head in silent agreement before they slide away from her, vanishing into the deep.
They lead us to a chamber just off the main route—small, cramped, the dark stone walls slick with sweat from the heat permeating the enclosure.
Seren finds the darkest corner and curls into it, tipping her head against the stone. She closes her eyes, and the silence that follows turns sour.
I plant myself in the opposite corner and stretch my legs out, my muscles melting into the floor as a long breath finally escapes me.
“What else did you see?” I ask the ceiling. The chill of the wall cools the back of my neck, but it does nothing for the fire in my wrist.
Silence. She doesn’t respond.
I tilt my chin down, my gaze falling to her as if by some inescapable draw. She is staring at her shadows, her fingers coiling around the shapes they make as if they were made of silk, not dense smoke.
“Seren?” I ask, my voice softer now.
“I—” she begins, the words catching in her throat. “I saw the war. I saw the destruction of my people.”
“And the Triarch was there?”
“Yes. I saw—no, I felt them killing me.” She buries her head in her hands, hiding her face from me.
I say nothing. I let the words hang like a noose in the silence. I want to tell her that I saw it too—but confusion knots my thoughts. I don’t understand how it’s possible, and I won’t share the vision until I’ve untangled its meaning.
“This—” I begin, “this wasn’t in the histories. Not even in the forbidden texts I have from the Hollow.”
Her gaze snaps to mine. She wipes the tears from her cheeks, the wetness staining her grey tunic. “What did you say?”
I furrow my brow at the slip. “It’s my job to travel into the Hollow, but—” My mind warns me to stay silent, yet the voice purring in my head urges me on.
“On one occasion, I was in need and encountered a stranger who helped me. An age of hardship had carved her features like nothing I’ve ever seen in Auria.
But she was warm. Kind. She gave me texts that spoke of hidden truths and asked me to take them before the Luminary Patrols arrived.
Something compelled me to listen. So I did. ”
My fingers fumble with the miren crystal in my pocket, hoping my wavering faith isn’t affecting my resonance. “I studied those texts for years. Learnt things I’d never read about before. But none of them described how the war truly began—or how it ended.”
Seren rests her head against the wall, staring at the ceiling.
“Why would there be? Most of my people died. Those who survived were left illiterate. Your people believed the darkness clouded our minds, feeding us on manipulation.” She leans forward, her violet-ringed eyes boring into mine.
“When in fact, it was your gods who sowed the seeds of deceit. They only reap them when it serves their purpose—at the destruction of my people.”
She spits the last word, her chest heaving from the weight of her rage.