Kael didn't ask questions—not yet. He slung the survivor's arm over his shoulder and dragged her back to the cabin as the last light of day faded into night. The forge's faint blue glow was the only warmth cutting through the rising fog. The forest felt heavier than usual. Like it was listening.
He laid the women on the cot, fetched water, and crushed healing herbs into a warm brew. The women, pale and shaking, drank it greedily.
After a long silence, she finally spoke.
"I've been down there… for years," she rasped. "Trapped. No sun. No time. Just tunnels, echoes, and those eyes. Gods, those eyes…"
Kael leaned closer. "What did you see?"
The lady gaze sharpened, trembling with fear and urgency. "You think that thing outside is the only guardian?" She shook her head. "That's just the first. The watchdog. It keeps people out."
She swallowed hard. "But deeper down—there's a second. One made of chains and flame. It guards a gate. Not a door, not a portal—a world. A place full of wild magic, ancient things. The mine isn't just a source of power. It's a bridge between here and somewhere else."
Kael's blood ran cold.
"That world… it's leaking," the lady continued. "You've seen it, haven't you? How the forest twists at night? How creatures move where they shouldn't?"
Kael nodded slowly. He had seen it—the strange growth, the glowing mushrooms, the way the stars looked… wrong.
"When the mine cracked open again," the lady whispered, "it woke up both monsters. The outer guardian and the inner one. And now the veil between the worlds is thin. Too thin."
Kael stood, heart pounding. Everything had changed. This wasn't just about defending his home or discovering some magical ore.
This was a war between worlds.
And the door had been left wide open.