…steel shrieked as the Baphomet's scythe carved the air, the blow cracking stone and bone in the same heartbeat.Gideon was hurled sideways, smashing into a pillar. Ezra crumpled under the flat of the blade, blood at the corner of his mouth. Skyling tried to dart away, but a backhanded sweep caught her mid-step, sending her tumbling across the cavern floor.
They didn't move.
Eliakim's lungs burned as he staggered backward. The Baphomet's eyes — yellow and fever-bright — pinned him. Then the air folded inward like a collapsing curtain, dragging him through darkness.
The Vale of Dusk
He landed on one knee in a place that didn't feel real.
Amber light stained the horizon, yet no sun burned in the sky. Vast stone obelisks rose like frozen sentinels, each one etched with glowing sigils that pulsed in slow rhythm. The air was thick with a strange, resonant hum, and from somewhere deep in the valley came the low scrape of hoof against stone.
At the far center of this impossible landscape, suspended in still air, turned a diamond-shaped glyph of pure shadowlight. Its edges shimmered faintly — the Sigil of Shadows.
And then it stepped into view.
An ox-shaped beast, impossibly large, its body made of roiling smoke and drifting starlight. Every shift of its muscles scattered glitter across the ground. Its void-black eyes met his, and a voice — not spoken but pressed into his skull — said:
"Be unseen… or be undone."
The obelisks groaned. Massive blocks of stone slid across the valley floor, grinding into a new pattern until Eliakim stood at the entrance to a shifting maze.
The First Hunt
Eliakim drew in a breath and crouched low, letting the shadow of the nearest obelisk swallow him. It was not just ordinary darkness — it clung to his skin, dampening even the sound of his pulse. He could feel it… the null-light.
The Guardian's hoofbeats echoed through the maze, slow and deliberate. The sound reverberated through the stone floor, each step heavy enough to make the obelisk at his back tremble.
He moved only when the wind gusted, masking the sound of his boots. The Guardian's head swung toward him once — long horns glinting with silver dust — but Eliakim froze, becoming part of the shadow. A moment later, the great beast passed by, leaving the faint scent of ozone in its wake.
Learning the Null-Light
The Sigil pulsed faintly above the valley, and something stirred in Eliakim's mind — an intuition that wasn't his. Don't hide. Erase.
He shut his eyes, focusing not on the act of concealing himself, but on the absence of anything to conceal. The shimmer around his body thickened until he could no longer see even the outline of his own hands.
The Guardian turned a corner, its muzzle brushing the very pillar Eliakim pressed against. Its breath steamed the air inches from his face. And yet… it did not see him. It lumbered away, vanishing between the shifting stones.
The First Strike
The labyrinth bent in his favor — a narrow corridor opening directly toward the Guardian's flank. He ran low and silent, the null-light trailing behind him like a wake in dark water.
At striking range, he lunged. The blade in his hand cut through the Guardian's smoke-flesh, scattering embers that drifted upward like fireflies. The beast bellowed — a sound like an avalanche breaking — and the obelisks groaned, sliding into a tighter, more treacherous configuration.
The corridor behind him slammed shut.
Predator Becomes Prey
Darkness thickened. The runes on the obelisks dimmed until the valley became a shifting night. Eliakim's own eyes struggled to adjust, but the null-light wrapped him like a second skin, guiding his movements.
The Guardian charged once — horns cutting the air where he had stood a moment before. He rolled, came up in the lee of another pillar, breath steady, body still. The second charge splintered the stone inches from his ear.
Every time he vanished, the beast grew more frustrated — its steps heavier, its snorts sharper.
The Decisive Blow
The Sigil's hum grew urgent in his chest. He moved now not with fear, but with rhythm — stepping from shadow to shadow as though the labyrinth itself were an extension of his body.
When the Guardian turned down a narrow lane, he slipped in behind it, matching pace so precisely that his own footfalls were masked by its hooves.
One breath. Two.
He emerged from the null-light in a fluid arc, blade flashing once. The strike cut deep into the Guardian's heart of starlight. It froze, eyes wide — then dissolved into motes of amber light, which swirled upward and sank into the hovering Sigil.
The glyph descended toward him, pressing into his chest with a warmth like sunlight through midnight fog. Power coursed through him — the knowledge of how to cloak not just himself, but his allies, in the same null-light.
The amber valley shattered like glass.
Eliakim was back in the cavern, the Baphomet looming over the crumpled bodies of Gideon, Ezra, and Skyling. The scythe was raised, dripping black light.
"Now," the demon snarled, "let us finish this."