The entrance to the catacombs lay hidden beneath a crumbling temple in the heart of Duskwatch.
By the time Alan, Seris, and Kraevok reached it, the sun—or what little light pierced the gray clouds—had vanished entirely, leaving the world in a cold, unnatural twilight.
The temple was a hollow skeleton of its former self.Shattered columns. Cracked marble.An altar blackened by old, dark rites.
Alan approached without hesitation.
The closer he got, the stronger he felt it—the pulsing thrum of ancient magic leaking from the earth, calling to him like a drumbeat beneath his skin.
He knelt at the base of the altar, brushing aside the dust and grime.
There it was.
A spiral symbol carved into the stone, so faint it was almost invisible.
A seal.
Old. Powerful.
And dying.
Alan placed his palm against it.
A shock raced up his arm, but he didn't flinch.
Instead, he whispered a word.
One he had heard only in the deepest of the whispers.
"Vel'korran."
The seal blazed to life.
The altar groaned—and then slid aside, revealing a yawning staircase plunging into blackness.
A breath of cold, ancient air rushed up to greet them.
It smelled of dust, blood, and forgotten things.
Seris swallowed hard. "This is a terrible idea."
Kraevok shrugged. "Yeah. But when has that stopped us?"
Alan smiled grimly.
"Stay close. Don't trust your eyes."
And without another word, he descended.
*****
The stairs seemed endless, spiraling down and down.
The walls bled faint blue light from cracks that pulsed in time with Alan's heartbeat.
The deeper they went, the colder it became—not just physically, but spiritually, as if the very soul of the world grew brittle and thin here.
Finally, they reached a wide hall.
Pillars of black stone lined the way, each carved with grotesque faces twisted in agony and rage.
Seris whispered, "What is this place?"
Alan's voice was low.
"A graveyard."
"For gods."
The whispers were stronger now, filling Alan's mind with promises and warnings.
The chains, the gate, the power waiting beyond it all…
He forced them into the back of his mind.
Focus.
One step at a time.
*****
As they moved deeper into the catacombs, shadows flickered at the edges of their vision.
Things moved in the dark.
Watching.
Waiting.
Alan's katana hummed faintly, sensing the wrongness.
Suddenly, Kraevok cursed and drew his axe.
From the darkness, shapes began to crawl forward.
Wretched things—once men, perhaps, but now little more than corrupted husks.
Their skin was gray and cracked, their eyes empty sockets weeping black ichor.
"Guardians," Alan muttered.
Not by choice.
Bound by old magic, these creatures were cursed to defend what lay below.
Without hesitation, the first of the husks lunged at them.
Alan moved like a phantom.
His katana flashed once—twice—and two husks fell, cleaved cleanly in half.
Seris danced among them, her daggers flashing like silver serpents.
Kraevok roared and smashed through a cluster of the creatures with brutal, merciless swings.
But for every one they felled, more seemed to crawl from the cracks.
Endless.
Alan realized the truth.
"This isn't a fight we can win," he said sharply."We have to reach the Heart."
Seris nodded, blood splattered across her face. "Lead the way!"
Alan pushed forward, carving a path through the throng.
The catacombs shuddered, as if the very earth resented their presence.
At the end of the hall, a great door stood.
Massive. Ancient.
Its surface was engraved with runes that pulsed with an eerie green light.
Alan felt the chains again—strong here, tangled around the door like unseen vines.
"This is it," he said.
Behind him, the horde of husks shrieked and surged forward.
Kraevok planted himself in the corridor, ready to hold them back.
"Go!" he barked. "We'll hold 'em!"
Alan hesitated for a breath.
Then he nodded.
With Seris at his side, he placed his hands on the door.
The whispers screamed louder.
"Break the seal," they cried."Unleash the Heart."
Alan closed his eyes.
And pushed.