The ruins were gone, buried under a collapsed mountain of stone and shattered magic. Smoke drifted lazily into the sky where the Gate once stood, and the land had fallen into an unnatural silence—like the world itself was trying to forget what had just stirred.
But silence, I knew, was never peace. Only the calm before something worse.
Our fleet hovered just beyond the ridge, airships forming a scattered perimeter above the valley. Within the largest vessel—The Valkyris, a command ship from the forgotten continent—I stood with Cira, Kieran, Elara, and Lord Kaelen around a projection table that displayed the fractured ley lines of the region.
"The Gate was only a conduit," Kaelen said grimly. "The real seal… lies deeper."
He tapped the flickering map, highlighting a pocket of energy hidden below the collapse.
"I thought we destroyed it," Elara said, crossing her arms. "The whole ruin caved in."
"You destroyed the surface structure," Cira replied. "But look at this—"
She rotated the projection, revealing a vertical shaft beneath the ruins. At the bottom, a swirling core of unstable energy pulsed, barely contained.
"That's where the Harbinger's real ritual is anchored," she continued. "And it's still active."
I stared at the energy, feeling the Crown Mark pulse faintly against my skin.
"He's not trying to open the Gate," I murmured. "He's trying to break reality from underneath it."
A Fracture in the Veil
We descended in a stealth vessel, designed for subterranean travel, slicing through layers of stone and corrupted mana. The deeper we went, the more unnatural things became.
Light bent wrong in the lower tunnels. Echoes whispered ahead of us—whispers that didn't belong to any of us. Sometimes they were words, sometimes laughter. Once, I heard my own voice calling from deeper within the cave, though I hadn't spoken.
"I don't like this," Kieran muttered, hand on his sword hilt. "Feels like we're walking into someone else's dream. Or nightmare."
"That's because we are," I said quietly. "Reality is thinner here."
At the lowest depth, the passage opened into a massive underground chamber. Stalactites hung from the ceiling like the teeth of a sleeping god. At the far end stood a monolith of black crystal—broken, bleeding light. Around it, glowing glyphs shimmered in a circular pattern, slowly unraveling.
Cira stepped closer, scanning the structure. "This is the source. He's accelerating the decay of the seal."
"Can we stop it?" Elara asked.
"I think so," Cira said. "But not without stabilizing the mana field—and that will require…"
She hesitated, turning to me.
"…a Crown bearer," I finished for her.
Of course.
The Crown's Choice
I approached the monolith slowly, every step heavier than the last. The Crown Mark flared bright along my skin, responding to the glyphs. I could feel them calling to me—not like a request, but a demand.
You were born to rule. Fix this. Bind it. Complete it.
I kneeled before the seal, placing both palms against the cold crystal. Immediately, golden threads snaked outward, weaving through the fractured glyphs.
And I saw.
Visions.
Flashes.
The Gate above was only the surface expression of a deep wound in the world—a prison that held the Chained God in pieces. His body, spirit, and name had been scattered through time and space.
One piece—his voice—still slumbered beneath us.
And it was waking up.
The Voice Speaks
My vision blurred again, the chamber falling away.
I stood now in a field of stars—empty, weightless, but vast. And at the center floated a tongue of shadow, coiled like a serpent, etched with thousands of ever-shifting runes.
"You reach with unworthy hands."
The voice was raw, broken, stitched together from screams and static.
"You would seal what you do not understand. Silence what must sing."
"I won't let you tear this world apart," I said, standing firm in the dream-space.
The tongue uncoiled, drifting closer. I could feel its presence in my skull, twisting thought, scraping at my soul.
"You are too late. The Harbinger feeds me names. Each name a key. And soon… the chain will snap."
I summoned the Crown, its golden fire coiling around me.
"I may not understand everything," I whispered, "but I know this: you were locked away for a reason."
I struck.
Golden light clashed against void.
The scream that followed wasn't pain—but laughter.
Back to Reality
I collapsed backward, gasping, nose bleeding, vision blurry. Elara caught me before I hit the floor.
"Sylas!" she called. "Are you—"
"I'm fine," I breathed. "But he's closer than we thought. The Harbinger has already unlocked one-third of the chains."
Cira finished reworking the glyphs, feeding new power from her mana pack into the seal. "Then we need to stop him before he finds the rest."
Lord Kaelen's voice buzzed over comms. "Pull out immediately. Satellite mana surveillance just picked up a spike to the east. Harbinger forces—thousands—are on the move. They're heading for another site."
Elara looked at me, tense. "Where?"
Kaelen hesitated. "The Grave of Echoes."
Kieran went still. "That place is cursed."
"No," I said, shaking my head. "It's haunted. And now we know why."
Evacuation and Warning
We left a containment crew behind—tech-priests from the forgotten continent, reinforced with Divin wards and steampunk seal nodes. It would buy us time. Days, maybe weeks.
Back aboard The Valkyris, I stood on the observation deck with Cira. Below, the land churned beneath the ruined gate site, the air warping like a mirage.
"You saw something," she said softly.
I nodded. "A piece of him. His voice. It's still down there, trying to push through."
"And the Harbinger?"
"He's gathering the other pieces. If he gets them all…"
Cira looked out across the fractured landscape, jaw tight.
"Then this world ends."
Rising Tension
Later that night, we held a war council.
Maps were unfurled, markers placed, intel laid bare.
The Harbinger had already claimed a site near the western wastes. A second team had moved toward the Shattered Temple. And now, a third group headed for the Grave of Echoes.
Three locations.
Three pieces of the Chained God.
"We have to stop him before he gets the next," Kaelen said.
"Then we go to the Grave," I answered. "We'll cut him off."
Elara nodded. "We're with you."
Kieran glanced up, eyes narrowed. "We're walking into a trap."
"Maybe," I agreed. "But it's a trap we'll spring first."
A Flicker of Hope
That night, as the camp settled into uneasy quiet, I walked alone to the edge of the ridge and stared up at the stars. The wind was cold, and the land felt heavy—but in the distance, I could see lights flickering. Fires. Life.
Despite everything, we were still fighting.
Elara joined me after a while, silent. We stood together for a long time without speaking.
Then she finally said, "You looked scared earlier. When you touched the seal."
"I was," I admitted. "Not because I thought I'd die… but because for a moment, I understood him."
She looked at me sharply.
"He was powerful, yes. But more than that… he was lonely. Forgotten. Trapped between worlds, not alive, not dead. And in that loneliness, he went mad."
Elara placed a hand on my arm. "You're not alone."
I looked at her—and smiled.
"I know. That's why I haven't broken."