The tunnel seemed endless.
Every step echoed like a drumbeat, swallowed by the dark. Kairo's breath misted in the chill air, though no wind stirred. The deeper they went, the heavier it felt—like the mountain itself pressed against his chest.
Liora's glowing cracks lit their way, faint and eerie, casting shadows that twisted across the stone walls. Her pace slowed at last, until she stopped before a gate.
It wasn't made of wood or iron.
It was bone.
The ribcage of something titanic arched over the passage, fused with the stone as if the mountain itself had grown around it. Kairo craned his neck upward, his throat dry. Each rib was taller than a tower.
"What is this place?" he whispered.
Liora lowered her head, her silver hair spilling forward. "The grave of my kin."
She pressed her palm against the bone. The runes etched across her blade flared in answer, and with a sound like thunder cracking underwater, the ribcage parted.
They stepped inside.
The cavern beyond was vast—an endless hall littered with colossal skeletons. Skulls half-buried in stone, spines like bridges, shattered swords rusting beside broken hands. Giants. Dozens of them.
Kairo's knees weakened. "They're… all Nephilim?"
"Yes." Liora's voice carried both pride and grief. "My brothers. My sisters. Slain in the First Flood."
Kairo's eyes caught on one skeleton larger than the rest. Its skull was crowned with horns, its chest pierced by a spear still glowing faintly with blue fire. The sight made his stomach twist.
"What happened to them?"
Liora's fists clenched. "The Time God judged us. Called us abominations. His hunters slaughtered us here. My mother hid me before the final battle. I have wandered alone ever since."
Silence fell. The cavern seemed to breathe with memories, a graveyard that whispered sorrow.
Kairo's mark burned suddenly, so sharp he hissed. His arm pulsed with light, answering something unseen.
"Liora," he said through clenched teeth, "it's—doing something."
Before she could answer, the ground trembled.
From between the bones, water began to seep—first a trickle, then torrents spilling from cracks, pooling at their feet. The air thickened with salt and mist.
And then came the voice.
"Child of the mark… You have found me."
The water swirled upward, forming the vague outline of a towering figure with broken wings. Its eyes glowed like whirlpools, and chains of fire clinked faintly even in this vision.
Kairo staggered back, his heart pounding. "Who—what are you?"
The figure's watery face leaned close.
"Azariel. Watcher. Father of the mark you bear. Through you, I will rise again."
Liora's blade rang as she raised it. Her voice thundered across the cavern. "Stay back, spirit!"
But Azariel only laughed, the sound like waves crashing against cliffs.
"You cannot guard him forever, Nephilim. He is mine. And when the flood comes, only he may choose—chains… or freedom."
The water crashed back down, leaving silence and the stench of salt.
Kairo clutched his burning arm, staring at the fading ripples.
Somehow, he knew the Watcher wasn't lying.
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⚡ End of Chapter 7.