For a moment, I thought I'd gone deaf.
After the scream, the chamber fell into a silence so absolute it felt unnatural—like the entire ruin had stopped existing for a second. The chains above the creature had shattered midair and vanished without touching anything. Not a clang. Not a whisper. Just… gone.
The being on the altar—no, whatever it really was—sank back down like its own words had crushed it. The glow beneath its skin flickered, like a dying fire barely clinging to warmth. I couldn't tell if it was alive. I couldn't even tell if it had ever really been alive.
Nikita and Cealith stood still, both weapons half-lowered, not out of peace but uncertainty. Nobody knew what to do.
My torch crackled quietly beside me. That was the only sound.
Then, a voice.
Not loud. Not forced.
Just there.
"The darkness is not the end."
The creature's mouth barely moved. Its words drifted into the air, heavy and slow, like they'd been waiting centuries to be heard.
"It is… his disappearance."
A chill crawled down my back, one that had nothing to do with the cold. I didn't know who 'he' was, but the way the being said it—there was grief there. And something deeper than grief. Something ancient.
I glanced at Cealith. His face was unreadable, but his eyes were sharp, locked on the figure like it might vanish any second. Nikita hadn't moved at all. He stood like a statue, breathing quiet, jaw tight.
I opened my mouth to speak—but stopped. What the hell was I even supposed to say?
The air pressed in tighter. The ruin felt smaller now. Or maybe more alive.
Then Cealith spoke, voice low. "It doesn't speak of a place."
Nikita nodded slowly. "It speaks of someone."
The being didn't acknowledge them. It just closed its eyes again. Like remembering hurt more than dying.
I stepped forward, slowly.
The floor groaned beneath me—not from weight, but from… something else. I stopped two meters from the altar. Closer than I'd ever been to anything I didn't understand.
"What are you?" I whispered.
No answer. Just the hum of stillness.
Then—
A sound.
Wet. Slithering.
It echoed from the left tunnel.
Nikita raised his weapon instantly.
Cealith shifted his stance, silent as always.
Another sound—this time claws on stone. Then another. Then more.
I turned toward the passage, my heart already racing.
From the dark emerged a shape. Twisted. Wrong.
Like the being on the altar, but broken.
Its body pulsed with light, but not steady—erratic. Like a heart having a seizure. Its limbs were too long, joints bent the wrong way, and its face—if it even had one—was wrapped in shifting wires and flesh that pulsed with black-red veins.
Then came another.
And another.
Five. No—six.
They weren't just here. They were hunting.
Cealith whispered, "Draw."
I pulled my blade free, hands slick with sweat.
The lead creature hissed—a sound like splitting metal—and lunged.
And the fight began.
The first one reached us in seconds.
Cealith moved before I even saw him draw. One clean step forward, blade slicing up and across. The creature didn't scream—it just snapped in half, collapsing in a mess of light and liquid that didn't look like blood, didn't smell like anything I recognized. Whatever these things were, they weren't meant to live. Or maybe they weren't supposed to still be alive.
Another one lunged from the side. Nikita met it head-on. His spear drove through its chest with a crack of bone—or metal—something hard. He didn't stop there. One step, twist, rip it free, and the creature dropped like its strings had been cut.
Then the third one came for me.
I didn't think. Just moved. My blade was up, but I was too slow—it clipped my side, and pain exploded through my ribs. I stumbled, swung wild, and missed.
"Left!" Nikita shouted.
I turned and barely caught the thing mid-lunge. My sword dug into its shoulder—not deep enough. It screeched, reared back, claws swiping.
I ducked. Rolled. Came up coughing dust and adrenaline, swinging again.
This time I hit its neck. It jerked, spasmed, then crumbled into twitching pieces.
Three more left.
They circled us now, not attacking all at once. Learning. Or maybe waiting.
Then the light changed.
I turned just in time to see the creature—the one from the altar—step down.
It didn't walk. It glided. Its feet hovered inches above the ground, arms slightly out, its body dimmer than before but focused. Every step it took left behind a faint trail of gold dust that evaporated into nothing.
One of the attackers snarled and pounced.
The creature didn't flinch. It raised a single hand. No motion. No words.
And the thing simply… vanished.
Not torn. Not destroyed.
Just gone.
Like it had never existed.
Another charged.
Same result.
The last one hesitated.
That was a mistake.
The being stepped forward, and the final monster screamed—not out of pain, but like it had just remembered something horrible—and then it disintegrated mid-air. Not burned. Not erased. Just undone.
Silence.
We stood there, breathing hard, weapons still raised.
Cealith wiped his blade. Nikita lowered his spear but kept it ready.
I was shaking, arms sore, chest heaving. The cut on my side still burned, but I was standing. I hadn't run. That counted for something.
The creature turned to us. Its glow was weaker now. Flickering.
Pieces of its body—light-glass, vein-threaded—had begun to crack. Fine fractures spreading from the chest outward. It was dying. Not fast. But definitely dying.
And it didn't seem afraid.
Aleks. My name, it said without saying.
Not out loud. Not even in my head.
Just in me.
I stepped forward. Not too close.
It looked at me, eyes like dead suns.
And said, gently,
"I was never meant to awaken… alone."
Its voice was fading. Each word took something out of it.
"To protect you all… I had to remember."
Behind me, Nikita shifted. But he didn't interrupt.
Neither did Cealith.
We just listened.
The creature's breathing slowed—not like a human, but something close enough to make my chest ache. There was no blood, no visible organs, just that cracked-glass body with golden light threading through it like dying stars.
"You were not supposed to find me," it whispered.
I frowned. "Then why are we here?"
It didn't answer right away. Instead, it looked toward the ceiling, as if there was something beyond the stone. Something far away. Its voice grew quieter.
"We were created to remember. Not to last."
Cealith lowered his torch slightly. "You weren't guarding anything, were you?"
"No," the creature said. "I was… all that remained."
Its body flickered again. A chunk of its shoulder crumbled and fell soundlessly to the floor, shattering like ice. The light underneath pulsed weakly, like a heartbeat that had forgotten its rhythm.
"I was one of the First and the last," it said.
"Why are you the last?" I asked.
Its eyes shifted to me. Still glowing, but softer now. Almost human.
"Because I was forgotten."
That hit harder than I expected. Not because of what it meant—because of how it sounded. Like a truth too old to cry about.
Silence stretched between us. Not uncomfortable, just… heavy.
Then it said, barely audible, "We weren't made to stay. Only to remember."
I didn't understand what it meant.
But I felt it.
Something in my chest twisted. A hollow ache I couldn't place.
The creature took one step back toward the altar. It staggered this time. Its knees buckled, and it caught itself on the edge, cracks spreading through its side like spiderwebs. The light flickered harder now—faster. Like it was unraveling.
Cealith moved instinctively, like he might catch it, but Nikita put a hand on his shoulder.
"No," Nikita said quietly. "Let it finish."
The creature lifted its head, slow and trembling.
It looked at me one last time.
And smiled.
Not like a human. Not with lips or teeth. Just… presence. A warmth that reached me, even in this frozen tomb of memory.
"This time," it said.
A pause.
Then, softer—
"You'll make it."
And with that, the cracks burst wide.
The creature dissolved, piece by piece, into a quiet swirl of dust and light. No sound. No cry. No final scream. Just… release. Like it had been waiting to let go for far too long.
The dust rose, hovered for a moment—then scattered into the shadows above, lost in the dark.
And it was over.
None of us spoke.
Not for a long while.
The chamber felt bigger now. Empty, not just of sound—but of something deeper. Like the creature had been the only thing keeping this place awake. And now that it was gone, the ruin had no reason to breathe anymore.
Cealith let out a slow breath. "It didn't die."
Nikita nodded once. "It ended."
I took a step toward the altar. The stone was cold again. Just stone.
But there—just to the side of where the creature had stood—lay something.
Small.
Shattered.
I bent down and picked it up without thinking. A shard. About the size of my thumb. Clear, but jagged—like it had broken off from something far bigger. It caught the light strangely, bending it at odd angles.
It didn't pulse. Didn't glow.
But it felt… present.
I turned it in my fingers, then glanced back at Cealith and Nikita. Neither said a word.
So I slipped it into my pocket.
Didn't know why.
Didn't ask.
Just… did.
We left the ruin together, our torches dimming behind us, the stairwell swallowing our footsteps.
Behind us, the silence held.
Not like before.
Softer.
Like something that had finally fallen asleep.