The sealed door behind them closed with a slow hiss, locking Toji, Frankie, and Elian into darkness that felt almost sentient. The spiral staircase they had descended no longer looked like a path; it felt like a descent into the soul of something diseased.
The flicker of enchanted flame from Elian's lantern cast uneasy shadows across the corridor's walls—each stone carved with alien runes and motifs that pulsed faintly in the dark, as though whispering warnings to those who dared enter.
Toji moved in front, his senses heightened, the energy in the air humming with something corrupted. He raised a hand and pulled a cluster of Nano-particles from the air, shaping them into a floating, glowing orb of his own. The light it emitted was sharp and sterile, revealing more of the tunnel than Elian's flickering fire ever could.
Frankie clutched a leather-bound tome filled with copied notes from the archive. He had already started matching glyphs on the walls to the entries they had found the night before.
"These runes," he muttered, "they're not just religious. They're instructional. Ritual-based. And old—much older than the Sarfin dynasty."
Toji didn't stop walking. "This place is more than just hidden. It's built outside the known laws of this world."
Elian grumbled behind them. "Fantastic. We broke into a dungeon under a palace built by liars."
The tunnel widened abruptly, opening into a massive underground chamber that stretched far beyond the reach of their light.
And then the smell hit them.
Rot. Blood. Burnt hair. Something metallic and wet.
Frankie gagged, pulling his robe over his nose. "Gods... What is that?"
Toji stepped forward slowly, his eyes scanning the chamber. "Not what. Who."
The first thing they saw was the pile of bodies.
They weren't dead. Not in the normal sense. They were mutated—arms twisted into blades, jaws elongated, skin covered in scales or patches of bark. Some twitched. Some wept. Some simply stared with glowing, empty eyes. Chains hung from their limbs, connecting them to spires of obsidian rooted in the chamber floor.
"My... God," Frankie whispered, frozen.
"These aren't demons," Toji said. "These were people."
Elian stepped closer to a nearby figure, his face pale. "This one—he's wearing a royal guard insignia."
Frankie trembled. "This… this explains the disappearances. The missing families. They weren't taken by war or famine. They were transformed."
"To what end?" Elian asked.
Toji didn't answer.
He walked toward the center of the room, where a dais rose from the floor like a tumor. Upon it stood a large crystal, deep black and veined with violet light. Surrounding it were tools—some surgical, some alchemical, and others clearly magical. Implements of cruelty.
A symbol hovered over the crystal, projected by magic: the spiral rune. But this one was different. Within the spiral was a human eye.
Frankie approached cautiously. "That's the mark of binding. I've only ever read about it."
"What does it do?" Elian asked.
"It takes a soul," Frankie said, voice shaking. "Anchors it to the body. Makes it impossible for the spirit to pass into the next life."
Toji's jaw tightened. "Then these people... are alive. Even now."
He knelt beside a woman whose chest barely rose with breath. Her face was fused with bark, and one eye glowed with faint red light.
She looked at him.
And wept.
Toji stood slowly. "They're not just victims. They're prisoners."
They moved deeper into the chamber, each corner revealing more horror. Vats filled with bubbling fluid containing incomplete humanoid forms. Sigils that pulsed with a heartbeat of their own. Walls made of bone and rune-etched steel.
In one alcove, Frankie found a book bound in what looked like skin.
He opened it.
"What is it?" Toji asked.
Frankie read aloud, voice trembling. "Project Heritor. Phase 1: Conversion. Test Subjects: Rejected citizens, accused unbelievers, prisoners. Objective: Fusion of demonic essence with soul-bound constructs."
Toji turned slowly. "They were trying to make demons."
"No," Frankie whispered. "They were trying to create a new species. Something between human and demon. Something controllable."
A sudden screech pierced the chamber.
Elian swung his lantern toward the noise. A figure detached from the shadows—bent, limping, with hollow black eyes and long claws. It charged.
Toji stepped forward.
With a flick of his fingers, Nano-particles surged. He constructed a barrier mid-air, a lattice of shifting code that hardened into hexagonal shields. The creature struck it and was thrown back, shrieking.
Toji's voice was low. "How many of these are still active?"
Frankie looked around in panic. "I don't know. We need to leave."
"Not yet," Toji said. "Not until we know who did this."
They moved through a secondary tunnel, finding a chamber filled with robes—the same ceremonial garments worn by the governor's inner circle.
And journals.
Toji picked one up and read.
"Phase 2: Integration. Subjects capable of speech have begun responding to commands. The link to the Horned One strengthens. Soon, the governor will receive his due reward."
Frankie looked at him. "The Horned One. That name was in the forbidden texts. He's not a god—he's a demon lord from another world."
Elian's voice was barely audible. "So the governor is working with demons?"
"No," Toji said. "The governor is serving them."
Silence followed.
Then Elian pointed toward a corner. "What is that?"
A shrine stood there. Carved from bones. At its center, a relic pulsed—an orb of obsidian and fire, spinning slowly in mid-air.
Frankie's breath caught. "That's a soul anchor."
"Destroy it," Toji said.
Frankie hesitated. "If I do, the souls inside—"
"Will be free," Toji finished.
Frankie nodded and whispered a word in an old tongue. The orb cracked, then shattered.
A sound like a thousand voices crying in relief filled the chamber. The chained bodies fell limp, their eyes closing for the last time.
Toji turned and walked back toward the exit. "We tell no one until we confront him. If he knows we've seen this…"
Frankie and Elian followed.
Behind them, the chamber grew still.
But the spiral rune on the altar continued to glow.