The ruin was changing.
Alaric noticed it first in the way his shadow lingered. The undead he'd raised the day before—Scratchy, Ugly, Bitey, and the rest—still clung to the edges of the dark under him, waiting like dogs at a door.
Creepy, sure, but comforting too.
Great. Not even two years old and I'm already a landlord for skeleton pets. Really nailed that "second chance at life" vibe.
But what unsettled him wasn't his shadow. It was the walls.
The murals had begun to glow. Not constantly—just in pulses, faint light rippling like a heartbeat through the cracks in the carvings.
Ashen stood before one of them now, silent as always, pale hand brushing across the stone. His silver eyes lingered on the etchings of figures around a tree: half lit, half cloaked in shadow.
Alaric squirmed in his moss bed, golden eyes narrowing.
"…Eh."
Don't give me that look, mural. I already know I'm part of this whole life-and-death thing. No need to rub it in.
Ashen's gaze slid back to him, steady, as though he'd heard the thought.
Alaric flailed an arm dismissively.
"…Ghh."
Yeah, yeah. Fine. Let's go see what creepy basement secrets this place is hiding.
It didn't take long for Ashen to decide.
He moved with deliberate steps toward the back of the chamber, where shadows pooled thickest against a cracked pillar. From there, a narrow stairway spiraled down, carved into the stone like a throat leading deeper into the earth.
Alaric blinked at it, then groaned internally.
Oh, perfect. Creepy stairs. Because "haunted cave crib" wasn't enough—we need to explore the murder basement now.
Ashen scooped him up without hesitation, holding him close as his boots clicked against the steps.
The descent was slow. The air grew damper, the glow of fungi thinning until only the faint shimmer of murals above guided the way. Water dripped from the ceiling, echoing down the stairwell like whispers.
Alaric clutched Ashen's coat tighter, his small fingers curling into the fabric.
Okay, I'm not scared. I'm not scared. This is just… atmospheric. Yeah. Totally fine.
But his heart raced anyway.
The stairwell opened into a wide chamber.
Unlike the moss-covered shelter above, this space was bare stone, walls lined with murals that hadn't yet faded. The images here were clearer—sharper.
Figures stood tall, some with halos of light, others wreathed in black smoke. Between them stretched a great tree, roots curling down into the floor.
At the base of the murals, faint inscriptions glowed.
Alaric's eyes widened.
"…!"
Whoa. Now this looks important. What is this, the tutorial room? Where's the pop-up window telling me my main quest?
Ashen lowered him onto a smooth slab near the center.
The knight's gaze swept the chamber once, hand brushing the hilt of his sword. He didn't relax, not even for a breath.
Alaric tilted his head, golden eyes drifting back to the murals.
The glow from them wasn't just light—it resonated. Every time he tugged faintly at his mana, the carvings pulsed, like they were answering.
He reached out a tiny hand toward the stone.
Warmth and chill stirred inside him together.
The carvings flickered.
Ashen's hand closed gently around his wrist before he could touch it.
Alaric blinked up, startled.
Ashen's silver eyes locked with his, steady, sharp.
For a long moment, silence stretched.
Then the knight slowly lowered his hand, releasing him.
The message was clear: Not yet.
Alaric pouted, cheeks puffing.
"…Gh."
What do you mean, not yet? It's glowing at me like it's begging to be touched! Worst tutorial ever.
But he stayed put. Mostly.
Training resumed even here.
Ashen had him practice both threads: warmth and chill, life and death, until sweat clung to his forehead. The murals pulsed with every spell, their light brightening faintly whenever his control steadied.
Healing moss patches. Wilting berries. Raising a skeletal rat that scurried into his shadow with Scratchy and Ugly.
Every success made the murals flare. Every failure dimmed them.
It was as if the temple itself was keeping score.
Alaric groaned, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his chubby hand.
"…Ghh."
So it's not just zombie-dad judging me silently, the cave's doing it too. Great. Love that. Double the pressure.
Ashen knelt beside him, adjusting his hand once more, guiding his palm into the correct angle.
For just a moment, their eyes met.
Silver. Gold.
And in that silence, Alaric understood something without words.
This wasn't just training. It was preparation.
Later, when he lay sprawled on the cold stone slab, chest heaving from exhaustion, Alaric turned his head toward the murals again.
The figures carved there stared back—half bathed in light, half cloaked in shadow.
Life and death. Balance.
He smirked faintly, eyelids drooping.
"…Hehh."
Guess this is it. The family portraits. Not bad, honestly. Could use better lighting, though.
His eyes closed, and the chamber's hum filled the silence.
Ashen stood guard nearby, unmoving as stone, the faint pulse of the murals glinting in his silver eyes.
The descent had begun.
And the temple was waiting.
The chamber didn't stay quiet for long.
At first, it was only the drip of water echoing from the stairwell above. Then a faint tremor ran through the stone beneath them. Small, almost like a heartbeat—but steady.
Alaric's golden eyes snapped open.
"…Eh?"
Uh. Did the floor just… breathe?
Ashen's silver gaze swept the chamber immediately, hand falling to his sword. His body didn't tense, didn't shift, but his presence grew sharper—like a blade unsheathed without sound.
The murals pulsed again, brighter this time. Their carved figures almost seemed to move under the glow, the roots of the great tree stretching further down into the floor.
Alaric swallowed, tiny hands curling into fists.
Nope. Don't like that. Murals are not supposed to move. Somebody tell the architect.
The tremor grew.
Dust drifted from the ceiling. A faint groan echoed through the ruin, as though the stones themselves were shifting.
Alaric clutched the edge of his moss bedding, wide-eyed. His shadow rippled, Scratchy's faint claws scratching at the ground in silent agitation. Ugly hissed somewhere in the dark beneath him, though no sound left its skull.
Ashen stepped forward, placing himself between the altar and the stairwell, sword drawn in a smooth motion. The pale light of the murals gleamed across the blade.
Alaric blinked up at him, chest tight.
"…Gh."
Great. So this isn't just training anymore, huh? We're actually doing this.
The sound came next.
Not footsteps. Not breathing.
A scrape.
Stone against stone, echoing from the darkness below the chamber. Slow, dragging, deliberate.
Alaric's breath caught. His baby-sized body pressed instinctively closer to the moss, his golden eyes darting toward the stairwell.
Oh, perfect. Creepy noises. Just what I needed to sleep well tonight.
The murals flared again, lines of light tracing faster, sharper, until the entire chamber pulsed in rhythm with the sound.
Ashen didn't move. He stood like a statue, silver eyes fixed on the stairwell, sword angled down but ready.
The scrape echoed again, closer this time.
Alaric's shadow rippled violently, his little undead scratching against the edges of the dark, eager to be unleashed.
He smirked faintly, despite the chill crawling up his spine.
"…Hehh."
Well, at least I've got backup now. Tiny army of creepy pets beats being alone.
The sound stopped.
Silence pressed in, thicker than before.
Then the air shifted. Cold, heavy, pressing down on the chamber like a blanket.
Alaric's breath hitched. His chest tightened under the weight, threads of warmth and chill inside him stirring wildly, as if the ruin itself had been waiting for this moment.
His gaze darted back to the mural of the tree—its roots now glowing so brightly they looked like veins across the floor.
The descent wasn't just physical.
It was calling to him.
Ashen's head tilted slightly, silver gaze sharper than a blade. He glanced back at Alaric just once.
Not a command. Not reassurance.
Just a reminder. Stay ready.
Alaric nodded, his tiny fists clenched.
"…Gh."
Fine. But if this thing eats me, I'm haunting you.
The scrape echoed once more, deep from the stairwell.
The chamber pulsed. Shadows stretched long across the floor, reaching for them.
And the descent truly began.