The cavern swallowed their footsteps. Every sound, from the scrape of boots to the faint click of gear shifting was amplified, bouncing back in warped echoes that made the place feel alive. The Ghost Mountains had a way of unsettling even the boldest warriors.
The group moved quietly, their eyes adjusting to the pale glow of the expedition lamps. Unlike old torches of forgotten times, these lamps projected thin sheets of crystalline light, powered by fragments of source crystals embedded in their casings. Cold and steady, the beams pushed back the dark, but only barely. Shadows lingered in places light refused to touch, thick and stubborn like a second skin of the mountain.
"Stay sharp," Tavian's voice cut through the silence, firm but unhurried. He carried himself as though the cavern itself bent to his will.
Seryn trailed close to him, her gaze flicking across the branching paths ahead. The Ironbrands mercenaries hung back, their gear clanking noisily, their casual laughter carrying the false bravado of men who wanted to convince themselves they weren't afraid. The there was the consortium soldiers who moved like well oiled parts of a machine.
Seryn glanced at them and gave a hidden signal with her eyes. Then, from among them, a thin figure stepped forward.
"Hello everyone, I'm Doctor Ned. Uhm… please take care of me." He stuttered on the words, his voice soft and strained.
Heads turned.
Lucian's head turned towards him. The boy's gaze lingered for a few breaths, unreadable as always. His thoughts remained sealed, a private ocean no one could dive into.
"Oh, what a nice addition to an exploration team," Tavian said dryly, his lips curving into a smirk. "I was worried we didn't have enough scholars to carry the lamps."
A ripple of chuckles passed through the Ironbrands.
Dr. Ned flushed but tried to hold his ground. He looked completely out of place, his robes more suited for a lecture hall than a cavern, his satchel bulging with scrolls, notes, and what looked like fragments of pottery tucked in protective cases. He wasn't a warrior. Not even close. His hands trembled slightly, though whether from fear or excitement was hard to tell.
Seryn gave him a small, almost sympathetic glance. "Ignore them. As long as you know what you're here for, you'll be fine."
"Y-yes," Ned replied quickly. He clutched his satchel closer, like a shield. "I… I'm not here to fight. My knowledge lies in… well, the history of the Ghost Mountains."
That caught Tavian's attention for a moment. He raised an eyebrow. "History?"
"Yes." Ned's voice wavered, but once he started talking, something shifted. His posture straightened slightly, and the stammer faded just a little. "The Ghost Mountains have always been… different. Forbidden regions like this one aren't simply wastelands, they're… remnants. Layers of civilizations buried under ages of collapse. Some say this range was once part of the Old Asterian Frontiers, a boundary where ancient powers clashed before records were even kept."
Lucian listened quietly. The way Ned spoke, hesitant but threaded with conviction, made it clear this was the one place he belonged.
"Forbidden regions…" Seryn murmured, testing the phrase on her tongue.
"Yes," Ned nodded eagerly, encouraged by her attention. "They appear across Asteria. Desolate forests where light refuses to enter, seas where compasses spin without end, mountain ranges like these. They serve as… barriers, prisons, sometimes even as vaults. Whatever their purpose, the truth is constant. Power lingers in these places. Forgotten power. Relics. And dangers, always."
"Which is why," Tavian interjected, his tone mocking again, "we brought a doctor of history to shield us from those dangers."
Ned winced but didn't argue.
Lucian, still silent, shifted his gaze forward. His mind absorbed the words differently. Not as Tavian's jest, not as Ned's lecture, but as a quiet confirmation of what he had already begun to suspect. The Ghost Mountains were not simply rock and soil. They were a memory etched into the bones of the world.
The cavern split ahead into three paths, each one curving into darkness. The beams of their crystal lamps stretched into the void but revealed little beyond sharp rock and yawning black. The air grew colder.
Ned hesitated, his lips moving as though whispering to himself. He took out a folded scrap of parchment and compared the crude sketch on it with the cavern walls. His brow furrowed. "Three paths… it matches the accounts. But if I'm right, the central passage…"
Seryn's voice was calm, curious. "What about it?"
Ned swallowed. "Explorers who entered it were said to never return."
Silence pressed down on the group. Even the Ironbrands stopped their laughter.
Tavian smirked faintly. "Well, that narrows our options."
Ned clutched his satchel tighter, his voice trembling again. "If… if you'll allow me, I can mark the passages we've taken. So we don't… lose our way."
No one responded immediately. Then Seryn gave a curt nod. "Do it."
Ned exhaled in relief, fumbling out a small chisel and a vial of ink. He began carefully carving and inking a simple symbol on the cavern wall near the entrance. His hands shook, but he worked with the diligence of someone who knew this was the only reason he had been brought along.
Lucian's gaze if blind people even had one lingered on him for a moment longer, then turned away.
The team prepared to move forward, the cavern waiting like a patient predator.
The three paths loomed before them like the open jaws of a beast. Each tunnel carried its own breath, the left exhaled faint drafts of stale air, the middle remained deathly still, and the right hummed with a low resonance, almost like a buried vibration.
"We'll take the right," Tavian said with immediate confidence, as if there was no need for discussion. His voice was steady, commanding, and the Iron Brands straightened instinctively at his words.
One of the consortium soldiers frowned. A wiry man with sharp eyes and a permanent sneer, he glanced at the noble and muttered under his breath, "Always rushing forward, as if the mountain bends to his whims."
Joran caught the words, only giving him a glance. "Watch your tongue." he growled. His hand hovered near the hilt of his blade.
The soldier smirked but said no more.
Dr. Ned shifted nervously between them, his eyes darting from one tunnel to the other. He held a fragment of parchment up to the lamp-light again, studying the faded notes scrawled across its surface. "Wait," he said softly, though the word cracked like glass in the cavern silence. "I… I think it should be the left passage."
Tavian's brow arched, amused again. "Oh? And what great wisdom of history tells you that, Doctor?"
Ned licked his lips, forcing himself to continue. "Not wisdom. Observation." He lifted his lamp higher, shining it across the stone near the left tunnel's entrance. Faint carvings shimmered under the crystalline light. Worn, almost erased by time, but still there nonetheless.
"They're boundary markers," Ned whispered, kneeling to trace the shallow grooves with a trembling hand. "Ancient pathfinders carved them to warn others. See the double stroke here? It means 'avoid,' but the way the lines fade… it suggests age. Centuries old. If danger truly lurked there, they wouldn't be able to even leave such markers. They would have to be alive first. And besides a long time has passed. The danger might be less now."
Seryn crouched beside him, studying the marks with a careful eye. "So the warnings are outdated?"
"Yes." Ned's face lit up with cautious excitement. "Which makes the left path safer than it appears. The central tunnel… there are no carvings. Nothing. That silence is more dangerous than warnings."
Lucian tilted his head, brows furrowing at the ongoing discussion's. He didn't speak, but the thought echoed in his mind: Warnings can fade, but danger rarely leaves.
Tavian gave a half-laugh. "So your great deduction is to follow old scratches on the wall? Very scholarly of you."
But despite his mocking tone, he didn't object when Seryn stood and said evenly, "We'll take the left path."
The Iron Brands muttered among themselves, but a sharp glance from Garik silenced them. With a heavy sigh, Tavian gestured toward the passage. "Very well. The left path it is. Lead us into your dusty history, Doctor."
They moved forward.
The left tunnel narrowed as they advanced, forcing them into single file. Their lights revealed jagged stone walls that seemed to ripple like waves frozen in mid-motion. Some stretches glittered faintly with crystal veins, fractured and inert, remnants of source energy long drained.
Dr. Ned walked near the front, pointing out markings whenever he spotted them. Small notches, crude arrows, even what looked like a shattered pendant embedded in the wall. His timid stutter disappeared when he spoke of such things, replaced by the cadence of a man who lived more in books than in battle.
"These paths are part of the Ghost Mountains' legacy," he murmured as they descended a gradual slope. "Forbidden regions like this one… they serve as reminders. Records written not in ink, but in geography. Each one holds fragments of what came before. Wars, catastrophes, experiments… secrets that were never meant to be touched again."
"Or treasures," one of the Ironbrands cut in, his grin wide. "You scholars always forget treasures."
Ned flinched, then shook his head. "For every relic found in places like these, a hundred lives are lost to traps, to beasts, to… things best left nameless. That is the balance of forbidden regions."
Lucian walked silently behind him, letting the words seep into his mind. Balance. Danger for power. Blood for knowledge. He understood that truth more than he wanted to admit. 'Maybe...' He thought internally, but didn't complete his train of thoughts as the cavern widened suddenly into a hollow chamber.
Their lamps spread light across towering stalagmites and broken stone pillars, as if they had stepped into the ruins of a cathedral buried underground. Strange metallic shards lay scattered across the floor, glinting faintly under the crystalline glow.
Ned gasped. He hurried forward, kneeling beside a fragment half-buried in dust. His fingers brushed it reverently. "This… this is Black-Ice steel. The kind used in siege engines during the Age of Collapse. Do you see? This chamber was once part of a battlefield."
Tavian raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Or just a dumping ground."
"No," Ned shook his head fiercely. "Look at the cuts on the metal. Precision strikes. Controlled. A battle was fought here, a battle between powerful warriors. It's not easy to put a dent on one of these machines."
The group shifted uneasily. The Irom Brands no longer laughed. Even Tavian's smirk dimmed as his gaze lingered on the fragments.
Seryn straightened, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of her blade. "If this place was a battlefield, then we are standing in the middle of a grave. And graves are rarely left unguarded."
A hush settled over the chamber. The silence pressed harder, thicker, as if the mountain itself held its breath.
Lucian's eyes swept the walls, the shadows beyond the glow of their lamps. His instincts prickled. The danger level of this ruin was beyond comprehension.
Ned swallowed hard, clutching the steel fragment as though it might shield him. "This… this is why forbidden regions are feared. They don't forget. The world doesn't forget. It hides its memories in places like this, waiting for fools or seekers to uncover them."
For once, no one mocked him.
The chamber stretched wider than their lamps could chase away. Every flicker of crystalline light seemed swallowed by shadows too deep to measure. Their boots crunched over fragments of steel and bone alike, the brittle echoes ricocheting through the hollow expanse.
Kaela crouched briefly, dragging her fingers through a line of dust on the floor. "There's no wind here," she murmured. "Which means there's no exit ahead."
Joran nodded, already scanning the walls for signs of collapse or hidden passages. "Then this chamber isn't meant to lead anywhere. It's a dead end."
"Or a tomb," Garrick added, his voice gruff. "Our tomb to be precise."
Dr. Ned stiffened at the word. His eyes darted toward the scattered remains, some still faintly shaped like helmets, ribcages, shattered arm-guards. He swallowed and forced his voice steady. "Tombs… forbidden regions, don't separate the two. For the ancients, burial grounds and battlegrounds were one and the same. What you see here..." he gestured toward the shards. "...isn't just a reminder of death. It's meant to warn. To repel."
Second in command of the Ironbrands, Mart, scoffed and kicked aside a shard of bent metal. "Warnings don't scare us."
The echo of his boot striking steel seemed to roll too long, as though the cavern itself resented the disrespect. Lucian tensed. Every instinct screamed at him. He took a step back, his hand finding the hilt at his side.
A faint vibration stirred beneath their feet. Subtle at first, like the thrum of a distant drumbeat. Then stronger. Dust cascaded from the ceiling in a fine veil.
"Move!" Joran barked, just as a deep crack split the chamber floor.
The ground buckled. Sections of stone sagged, revealing jagged gaps that breathed a cold draft from somewhere below. The mercenaries stumbled back, curses flying. Garrick grabbed Mart by the collar and yanked him away from the fissure before it widened fully.
Dr. Ned scrambled behind a fallen pillar, clutching his lamp tight. His voice rose in a hurried panic, "It's a collapse pattern! The chamber is hollow beneath, we're standing on a fractured shell!"
"Translation?!" Tavian snapped.
"One wrong weight and we all fall through."
The floor groaned again, hairline cracks racing like veins across its surface.
Lucian didn't hesitate. " Stay to the edges," he called, his calm voice cutting through the panic. " The weight holds near the walls. The center won't last." At some point in time he had already found his way to the edge of the chamber.
Several eyes snapped toward him, surprised at the certainty in his tone and how he got there so fast. But no one argued. Even Seryn gave a short nod and gestured her squad toward the walls.
The two groups spread outward, hugging the chamber's perimeter. Their lamps cast sharper angles now, revealing more of the carvings hidden along the stone pillars. Symbols cut deep, glowing faintly as if the quake had stirred some dormant energy.
Dr. Ned caught sight of them and gasped. "These aren't just warning marks. They're anchors. Stabilizers of some sort. This entire chamber was designed to collapse if disturbed."
"Designed?" Kaela frowned.
"Yes! Deliberate engineering. Ancient sabotage. Whoever fought here didn't want their enemies or anyone else walking out with the spoils."
As if to prove his words, one of the fissures yawned wider with a thunderous crack. The noise was deafening. A jagged slab of stone gave way, plunging into the abyss below with a roar that seemed to last forever before fading into silence.
The ground where Mart had stood moments earlier was gone.
The Ironbrand's bravado vanished in an instant. He hugged the wall with a pale face, muttering curses under his breath. Garrick's glare shut him up quickly.
Seryn's soldiers remained composed, but even they shifted uneasily, the glow of their armor pulsing brighter as their stabilizers adjusted to the shifting ground.
"Options?" Joran demanded.
Dr. Ned's eyes darted rapidly, tracing the lines of the glowing carvings. "There..." He pointed toward the far side of the chamber where a cluster of symbols glimmered more brightly. "That wall. It's reinforced. It may lead to a passage that bypasses the collapse."
"'May,'" Tavian repeated dryly.
"It's the only choice," Ned said, his voice trembling but resolute.
Lucian studied the direction, his blindfolded gaze lingering on the glowing patterns. He couldn't read the carvings the way Ned did, but he felt something stir in him, an awareness deeper than sight. The air shifted differently near that wall, a pull, faint but undeniable.
He nodded once. "He's right."
That single confirmation seemed to sway the group more than Ned's desperate plea. Joran gave a sharp signal. "Move."
They crossed carefully, steps deliberate, hugging the outer rim of the chamber. Every shift of their boots sent fresh cracks snaking across the center, but the edges held.
When they reached the far wall, Dr. Ned pressed his palm against the symbols. His lamp revealed more detail: a spiral of chains around a stylized flame. His breath caught. "Consortium markings… but older. Pre-dating the current era. This isn't just a battlefield. It was their stronghold."
Seryn's gaze sharpened, her usual composure flickering with something darker. Recognition. Claim.
Lucian paused slightly after hearing that. 'It seems the Virell Consortium has a connection with the Ghost-bane mountains. I have to be careful of them using their knowledge against us.'
Before she could speak, doctor Ned reached forward, running his fingers lightly across the carving. The stone felt warm, faintly pulsing, like the beat of a buried heart.
Then... click.
A low rumble groaned through the chamber, but instead of another collapse, the wall shifted. The spiral carving rotated slightly, stone grinding against stone. A vertical seam split open, revealing a narrow passage bathed in faint blue light.
The entire group froze.
"Well," Tavian exhaled, smirk tugging at his lips again, though his voice held strain. "Looks like the scholar earns his keep."
Ned nearly sagged with relief, though fear still trembled in his hands. "We shouldn't celebrate yet. If this was a stronghold, then opening this door may have awakened whatever they left behind."
Lucian kept his hand near his blade. His instincts whispered the same warning. The mountain wasn't done with them. It was only beginning.
Note: Please do well to read chapter 19 again. Few things have been changed.