The dawn in the Borderlands was never a grand affair of golden light; it was merely a transition from the black of the mines to the bruised purple of a smog-choked sky. Kaelen, Ria, and Elara moved through the waking streets of the Grey Tiers with their heads bowed, weaving through the throngs of coughing laborers. To anyone else, Kaelen looked like a man shivering with a fever, his right arm tucked tightly against his chest under a thick, soot-stained poncho. In reality, he was vibrating with a surplus of energy that felt like a hive of hornets nesting in his bone marrow.
The Whispering Crevice lay three miles to the east of the main mining hub, tucked away in a ravine where the mountain seemed to have been torn open by a giant's hand. It was a place of ill omen. The wind, passing through the jagged rock formations, created a low, whistling moan that sounded like a thousand voices pleading for air.
"The Guild hasn't touched this place in decades," Ria said, her voice barely audible over the wind. She adjusted the straps of her pack, her spear held ready. "The 'Echo' here is distorted. They say the mages who try to cast standard spells in the Crevice find their magic turning into static."
Elara shivered, her fingers brushing against the empty pouch where a focus stone should have been. "It's not static, Ria. It's interference. The mana here doesn't want to be shaped. It wants to stay... raw."
Kaelen stepped toward the mouth of the cave. As he did, the brand on his chest hummed. It wasn't the painful sear of the previous night, but a resonance. It was the feeling of a predator smelling blood on the breeze.
"INSIDE," Ignis rumbled, his voice more distinct now, less of a roar and more of a command. "THE ASH OF THE OLD WORLD LIES BURIED. FEED ME THE REMNANTS, ECHO."
"I'm going first," Kaelen said, his voice sounding deeper, rasping.
"Kaelen, wait!" Elara reached for him, but he was already moving.
As they crossed the threshold, the temperature plummeted. The transition was so abrupt it felt like stepping into a pool of ice water. The walls of the Crevice were coated in a strange, bioluminescent fungus that pulsed with a rhythmic, sickly green light. But the light didn't behave like fire or sun; it didn't cast shadows. It seemed to cling to the rock, illuminating nothing but the surface it grew on.
"I can't see a thing," Ria hissed, her hand out to touch the wall. "Elara, give us a light."
Elara closed her eyes and began the familiar incantation for a Lesser Sun. She traced the runes in the air, her voice steady. "By the breath of the sky, by the spark of the—"
Crr-ack.
The moment the mana began to coalesce into a sphere of light, it shattered. Instead of a warm glow, a shower of harmless but startling sparks sprayed the floor, smelling of burnt hair. Elara gasped, clutching her hand. "The Echo... it just snapped my threads. I can't hold the shape."
"Don't bother," Kaelen said. He stepped forward into the pitch-black tunnel. He didn't need Elara's light. To his eyes, the world was no longer dark. It was a map of heat and vibrations. He could see the warmth radiating from Ria's breath, the cooling stone of the walls, and—most importantly—the thick, pulsing veins of mana running through the ceiling like glowing roots.
"Follow me," Kaelen said. "I can see the path."
They descended deeper into the Crevice, the whistling wind growing louder until it was a literal scream. The path narrowed until they were forced to walk single file. Suddenly, the ground beneath them vanished.
"Watch out!" Ria shouted, grabbing Elara just as the girl's foot slipped into a hidden fissure.
The "Crevice" wasn't just a cave; it was a vertical labyrinth. Below them lay a drop of at least fifty feet, ending in a forest of jagged stone pillars. There was no bridge, only a series of floating, translucent platforms that drifted aimlessly in the updrafts of the canyon.
"Echo-platforms," Elara whispered, her voice filled with awe and terror. "They're made of solidified mana. They only become solid when they receive a consistent flow of energy. But since no one is powering them..."
One of the platforms drifted near, but it was ghostly, nearly invisible. If a person stepped on it, they would fall through it like smoke.
"Kaelen, we can't cross this," Ria said, her grip tightening on her spear. "Even if Elara could cast, she doesn't have the reservoir to power those for all three of us."
Kaelen looked at the platform. He felt the hunger in his chest—a gnawing void that wanted to pull energy in. He wondered if he could do the opposite. He reached out his blackened right hand, the skin glowing with that dull, rhythmic orange light. He didn't think of a spell. He didn't think of runes. He simply thought of the Heat of the dragon, the way it pushed back against the cold of the world.
He projected that sensation outward.
A wave of shimmering heat rolled off his palm, striking the ghostly platform. The effect was instantaneous. The platform roared to life, turning a solid, vibrant amber. It hummed with a deep, resonant tone, stabilizing in the air as it absorbed Kaelen's "Echo."
"Go," Kaelen grunted, sweat starting to bead on his forehead. "I can't hold the imitation for long. It feels like I'm... I'm leaking."
Ria didn't hesitate. She leapt onto the amber platform, her boots finding solid purchase. She reached back, pulling Elara onto the ledge with her. They waited for Kaelen to jump, but he stayed on the edge, his arm still outstretched.
"Kaelen, come on!" Elara cried.
"The next one," Kaelen gasped. "I have to hit the next one or you'll be stranded."
He swung his arm, "throwing" the heat toward a second platform further out. It solidified just as the first one began to fade back into a ghostly mist. Kaelen leapt, his heavy boots slamming into the amber surface just as it reached full density. He repeated the process, a rhythmic dance of heat and momentum.
Each time he "imitated" the dragon's fire to power the platforms, he felt the seven-day clock in his chest tick faster. He wasn't just using magic; he was spending his life-force.
By the time they reached the far side of the chasm, Kaelen fell to his knees, his right arm steaming in the damp air. His vision was swimming with red spots.
"You did it," Ria whispered, looking back at the chasm. The platforms were already fading back into the dark. "But Kaelen... your arm. The black skin. It's reached your shoulder."
Kaelen looked down. The draconic transformation was spreading. The hunger was no longer a dull ache; it was a screaming demand. He looked toward the end of the corridor, where a heavy, stone door stood embossed with the image of a weeping eye.
"The Relic Room," Elara said, her voice trembling. "I can feel the Echo from here. It's old. It's powerful."
"It better be," Kaelen said, forcing himself to his feet. He wiped a streak of blood from his nose. "Because if I don't eat something in the next ten minutes, I think I'm going to start with the walls."
He placed his blackened hand on the stone door. The weeping eye didn't open, but the stone beneath his touch began to glow.
"FEAST," Ignis whispered, and for the first time, the dragon's voice sounded like a cheer.