The stairs wound downward far longer than they expected.
Carved from obsidian veined with emberstone, the steps gave off a low, flickering light just enough to guide their way without torches. The deeper they went, the more the heat faded, replaced by a strange, cool pressure in the air. Like the weight of centuries pressing in around them.
The silence became sacred.
Even Torin didn't speak.
Eira led, the Keyblade glowing faintly in her hand. At times, the shard in her chest pulsed in tandem, as though drawn toward something long dormant. It felt less like they were descending into ruin, and more like entering a tomb where the flame had never fully died.
At the bottom of the stairwell, the tunnel opened into a vast cavern.
But not empty.
The walls were carved with reliefs, hundreds of them, etched with ancient Mageborn faces, symbols of power, spirals and flames. Some were beautiful. Others were worn with time. And in the center of the chamber stood a structure unlike anything they'd seen.
A memorial.
Eira approached slowly. It resembled a massive brazier, though long cold. Around its base, six stone pedestals stood in a circle each bearing a different emblem: fire, water, air, stone, shadow, light. Beneath them, engraved words in Mageborn script.
Lena read aloud, softly:
"Here lie the names of the First Ones. Flame-wrought, fate-bound. Betrayed not by time, but silence."
Thorne ran his hand along the wall. "It's a grave."
"No," Kaela said, stepping beside him. "It's a warning."
Eira stood before the unlit brazier, blade still in hand. The closer she got, the more the shard stirred, aching, almost. Then the villagers entered behind them, and one of the older women gasped.
"I know this place," she whispered. "My grandmother spoke of it. A tale of the Deep Flame, a power hidden to protect our kind. They said it would call the right one home when the world forgot us."
Torin exhaled sharply. "Good to know we're not just wandering into death traps by accident anymore."
"You never were," said Eira.
She stepped forward and raised the dagger. The brazier had a narrow slit at its heart. She inserted the blade. For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the flame returned.
It was not fire as they knew it. It bloomed upward, pale and golden, illuminating every wall. The carvings shimmered. The symbols pulsed. And one by one, the six pedestals began to glow each tethered to the brazier by lines of emberlight.
Then, from the flame, a voice spoke not just in words, but in memory.
"They turned on us. We trusted them. We taught them. But they feared what they could not wield. So they built the Veil."
The room darkened around them, and illusions began to form.
A vision unfolded, ghostly but vivid.
A city of light and flame, once whole, falling under siege.
Mageborn standing beside non-Mageborn, then hunted by them.
The rise of the Veil. The Sundering.
The sealing of this forge by those who remained.
And then one final image: six figures standing hand in hand, their magic entwined. A pact sealed not with victory but loss.
When the vision faded, Eira was crying.
So was Lena.
No one spoke for a long time.
"We were protectors," Eira whispered. "And they made us monsters."
Kaela set her jaw. "And now they're trying to finish what they started."
Behind them, the villagers stood in quiet awe. One elder knelt, touching the floor. "We carry their blood, you know. Not just the mages. All of us. The old spark lives in all Tenarians."
Eira looked back at him and saw it. The flicker in his eyes. The truth buried for generations.
"We need to tell them," she said. "All of them. We have to…"
A sudden rumble shook the chamber.
Dust fell from the ceiling. A faint hiss came from the tunnel above.
Thorne was the first to draw his sword. "We're not alone."
—
Maelis moved swiftly through the narrowing pass.
Smoke drifted from the freshly burned trees. Her scouts had begun to circle, her trap nearly closed. She watched the forest like a hawk. Every breeze, every sound was measured.
Then one of the forward soldiers returned, bloodied, pale.
"They've gone below," he panted. "We found an opening. Ancient stone. They're not in the valley anymore."
Maelis didn't blink.
She simply raised a hand.
"All units," she said, voice calm as ice. "Seal the pass. Collapse the entrance. Let them choke in the dark."
—
Back beneath the forge, Thorne turned to Eira.
"We need to move."
"The exit?" she asked.
"Blocked."
Torin groaned. "Of course it is."
Kaela stepped up beside her, face tight. "They knew we'd come. This was never just a chase. It's a siege."
Lena touched the brazier, watching the flame flicker as the air thinned. "Then we hold our ground. We light what they tried to bury."
Eira looked around at her friends, the villagers, the old carved walls still glowing.
"We don't run," she said. "Not anymore."
And in the silence that followed, the flame rose higher.