The stillness in the hollow chamber felt alive. It pressed against the lungs, thick as the damp stone walls, carrying with it the weight of centuries spent in silence. The lantern’s flame sputtered and leaned toward the black arch as though drawn by an unseen breath. The faint crimson glow running like veins in the carvings along the arch began to pulse—slow at first, then faster, a heartbeat roused from the deep sleep of the earth.
Kael stood beneath the towering arch at the chamber’s centre, his shadow stretching across the sigil-marked floor. The ragged hem of his cloak barely stirred despite the chill gusts swirling up from the dark cracks between the stones. His crimson gaze stayed fixed on the ground beneath his boots, where the chains’ sigils coiled and crossed like ancient scars.
