The night pressed heavy against the stone walls of Cael's chamber, a weight that settled into the marrow of his bones. Flickering candlelight cast quivering shadows that danced like phantoms on the cracked plaster, their whispers entwining with the faint rustle of ancient parchment beneath his fingers. Before him lay the sigils — arcane symbols etched into brittle vellum with a precision that spoke of centuries-old secrets. Each curve, line, and spiral pulsed faintly, as though the ink itself breathed in time with his cautious heartbeat.
His father's hand had traced these marks in hurried strokes, leaving behind a cipher wrapped in riddles and warnings. Cael's eyes, sharp and restless, scanned the intricate patterns again, searching for a meaning that eluded even his well-trained mind. Were these protective wards? Or a map to some hidden abyss? A curse perhaps? The ambiguity gnawed at him, each unanswered question tightening a coil of unease in his gut.
A soft knock fractured the silence. Selene's silhouette slipped through the doorway, barely disturbing the candle's wavering flame. Her gaze was unreadable, the kind of mask forged in countless battles and veiled truths. She stepped inside without a word, her presence filling the room with a quiet urgency. Cael met her eyes — dark pools reflecting shadows deeper than the night itself.
"The breach is growing," she said at last, voice low and threaded with something like dread. "Things stir in the void between worlds. We can no longer pretend the walls will hold."
Cael's jaw tightened. Trust was a fragile currency, often spent too freely and broken even faster. Selene's words felt like a knife's edge — sharp, cutting, but not quite revealing the whole wound. Yet, despite the veil of secrets she wore, the gravity in her tone pulled him closer into the unfolding storm.
Together, they poured over the sigils, trying to discern patterns and warnings encoded in strokes older than the city itself. Outside, the city's heartbeat — the distant toll of bells, muffled footsteps on cobblestones — pulsed with an uneasy rhythm, as if the very air anticipated the coming unraveling.
Cael's thoughts drifted to the memory of his father — a man whose disappearance had shattered his world like brittle glass. Had the sigils been left as a beacon or a trap? Every shadow in the room seemed to whisper possibilities, each more unsettling than the last.
And as the candle sputtered, threatening to drown them in darkness, Cael understood one truth: the veil between his past and the encroaching abyss was thinner than he had ever imagined.