The Codex pulsed, and the chamber convulsed.
Emerald veins blazed along the walls, cracking stone, filling the cavern with searing light. Roots burst from fissures in the floor, writhing like serpents, snapping through air with the weight of iron chains.
Draven staggered back, knife raised—too late. A root coiled around his chest, another speared through his arm, pinning him in place. His scream echoed as heat burned through flesh, glyphs carving themselves into his skin.
Feyra lunged at his side, aura bursting, but three coils lashed around her. Vines looped her neck, dragging her down until her paws scrabbled weakly against stone. Her glow flickered, eyes dimming.
Stonehide bellowed, plates flaring, but the roots smashed into its bulk, cracking armor like pottery. It thrashed, tail slamming against the ground, but every blow only drew tighter bindings.
The Codex did not welcome them. It devoured.
The vision struck like a storm.
Draven's eyes glazed as green fire seared his skull. He was no longer in the chamber.
Above him, a sky split apart, Earth colliding with Theia. A rift opened, tearing wider and wider, spilling energy across worlds. From the tear, a shadow reached—a claw, vast and unseen, ripping the wound open until the merger bled into ruin.
Humans stumbled into chaos. Powerless. Beasts towered above them, ruling like kings. Desperate, broken, men crawled into these Ruins, carving crude glyphs into stone. Anomalies twisted them, gave them edge.
And with blood and fire they pressed the first mark into flesh.
A beast screamed as chains burned into its body, dragging it down. A human lifted its head, victorious, wielding power not born of gift but of shackles.
The first slave mark. Humanity's first strength.
Draven gasped, the vision tearing through him. His veins felt aflame, his chest on fire. He looked down—glyphs were etching themselves into his arms, curling jagged like Dominion brands.
The Codex's voice pressed into him, deep and terrible:
"Life is burden. Bind it. Or be crushed beneath it."
Draven looked at Feyra—her paws clawing at air, eyes glazing. At Stonehide—plates cracking under vines, its roar breaking into wheeze.
His hand trembled. If I take it… If I carve the mark… I can save them.
The golden temptation flickered across his mind, a vision of beasts bowing, safe, unbroken.
His chest heaved. His arm bled. He raised his head, eyes burning through tears.
"No…" His voice tore ragged. "Not like this."
He leaned forward into the roots, letting them pierce deeper, blood spilling hot across stone. His roar shook the chamber:
"If life begins in chains, I'll end it free! My beasts stand with me—never beneath me!"
The bindings shuddered.
Feyra's eyes blazed wide, emerald fire erupting from her fur. The vines choking her neck snapped, seared into ash by the surge of aura. She landed hard, but her body glowed, brighter than ever, petals of light flickering around her frame.
Stonehide roared, its cracked plates flaring brilliant green. Emerald veins spidered through armor, glowing molten, until the coils shattered under raw force. It stood taller, bulk steadier, scales gleaming like living jade.
The chamber trembled.
Roots recoiled in fury, then tore themselves apart, collapsing into dust. Glyphs blazed one final time before scattering into fragments, raining like falling petals.
Draven fell to his knees, blood streaming down his arms, chest heaving. Feyra pressed close, licking wounds, her glow wrapping him in warmth. Stonehide lowered its massive head, shielding him, a low rumble vibrating through its chest.
The Codex hovered above, pages snapping open. Emerald fire flared across its bark-like cover, glyphs swirling restlessly.
And then came the whisper.
"Chains bind. You free."
The cavern fell still.
Draven lifted his head. The Codex no longer looked indifferent. Its pages turned slowly, each movement trailing sparks of glyph-light that dissolved before touching the ground. Its bark-like cover glowed faintly, pulsing in rhythm with his heart.
Not yet his. But no longer closed.
He spat blood, the taste bitter on his tongue. A crooked smile tugged at his lips, cracked and bloodied but unbroken.
"We're not finished."
The Codex answered with silence. Yet that silence felt heavy, alive, as though the chamber itself waited for him to speak again.
Feyra pressed closer, her body trembling but glowing faint, vines of light curling around her paws as though her own blood now carried Codex's fire. Stonehide shifted its weight, plates gleaming, emerald veins steady and sure, its bulk anchoring them all in place.
Draven looked at them both, his hand rising shakily to rest on their heads.
"They didn't break," he whispered. His chest burned with every breath, but the words steadied him. "And neither will I."
Above, the Codex's pages froze mid-turn, open but unreadable. From its spine spilled faint motes of green, drifting down like pollen. One landed on Draven's arm, searing faint warmth into torn flesh before dissolving.
A whisper stirred the stillness, softer than before, not threat but promise:
"The book is waiting."
Draven tightened his grip on his beasts, forcing his body to stand despite pain. His legs shook, but his voice did not.
"Then let it see me through."
The Codex's glow flared once more, dimming the chamber until all that remained was emerald light and three battered figures beneath it.