The stair ended in a cavern vast as a city.
Roots arched overhead like ribs of a colossal beast, their veins glowing emerald, pulsing in time with a heartbeat too deep to belong to any living thing. The air was heavy, warm, damp with the scent of sap and soil though no forest grew here.
And at the center it floated.
The Genesis Codex.
A tome larger than a man, suspended above cracked stone. Its cover was bark and stone fused, its edges sprouting faint tendrils of vine. Pages turned slowly though no wind stirred, each sheet made of glyph-light, lines of fire curling across them before dissolving. With every pulse the chamber throbbed, alive, as if the book itself were a heart sustaining this place.
Draven froze, chest tight. His breath came ragged, as though he stood not before an object but before a god.
Feyra whimpered, crouching low, ears flat. Stonehide lowered its bulk, scales rattling as veins of green flared weak.
The hum deepened.
Draven stepped forward.
The Codex answered.
Glyphs erupted from the floor, spearing into his chest. His body convulsed, knees buckling. Fire lanced through bone, muscle twisting as though rewritten. He gasped, collapsing to hands and knees, blood running from nose.
Feyra yelped, staggered toward him, but was flung back by a shockwave of light. Stonehide roared, claws gouging stone, but trembled, nearly driven flat.
The Codex rejected them.
Chains of green light lashed around Draven's arms, searing flesh. He screamed, falling onto his side as brands burned across his skin.
Visions struck.
A sky torn in half, Earth colliding with Theia, a rift ripping open as energy spilled like fire. The merger failed, not by chance, but by something — a shadow vast, unseen, striking the wound until it tore.
Men stumbled into the Ruins, powerless, trembling before beasts that ruled them. They carved crude glyphs into stone, forced them into skin with blood and ash. Beasts shrieked, flesh searing, chains burning into life. The first slave marks were born.
The vision seared Draven's skull. His eyes watered blood.
A whisper pressed into him, not voice but presence.
"Life is burden. Will you carry it?"
He saw Mira's face fading into ash. Branthollow burning. Beasts screaming in chains. Feyra's eyes hollowed, Stonehide shackled.
Draven forced air into his lungs, clenched bloody fists, and roared through clenched teeth:
"If life is burden, I'll carry it. If chains are its weight—" He dragged himself upright, body trembling, blood dripping. "—then I'll break them!"
The chains of light convulsed.
Then snapped.
Shards of glyph scattered into the air like petals in wind, dissolving before they touched ground. The fragments hung a heartbeat too long, glowing faint like stars, before vanishing into nothing.
Feyra darted to his side, pressing against him, her aura flickering warm as she nosed his wounds. Stonehide lumbered close, planting its bulk beside him, scales cracked but glowing with faint veins of green. Together they formed a wall, battered but unyielding.
The Codex pulsed once, slower, softer. The chains dissolved into dust, leaving Draven on his knees, blood dripping from his chin, body trembling as though hollowed out.
The cavern dimmed, as if all the light had been drawn into the tome itself. Roots above quivered, their veins stilled, waiting. Only the Codex remained in motion, pages turning of their own accord, slow, deliberate, as if searching.
For him.
Draven forced his head up. His chest burned with every breath, his arms shook under their own weight, and his eyes stung with blood and tears.
Yet in that darkness, lit only by the green fire of the Codex, he felt no fear.
Because Feyra pressed against him still, tail thumping weakly against stone. Because Stonehide rumbled like a distant drum, daring the chamber to strike again. Because they had not broken.
Draven's lips curved into a faint smile, cracked and bloodied, but unbroken.
The Codex floated before him, vast, ancient, its cover sealed, its glyphs restless. Waiting. Watching.
Not yet his. But no longer indifferent.
The heart of the Ruins had noticed him. And it would not let him leave unchanged.