PREPARATION
Isaac crouched before the sealed door. Running his fingers over the etched symbols.
The stone was cold. Too cold. Even through his gloves, he could feel an unnatural chill seeping from its surface.
This wasn’t just ancient architecture.
It was something else.
Something guarded.
Something forgotten.
And that meant getting inside wouldn’t be easy.
He sighed, adjusting the weight of his satchel. Time to prepare.
First, the aether lantern.
He pulled out the small, silver-glassed lantern and activated it with a flick of his wrist. A soft, blue glow spread outward, pushing back the heavy shadows of the ruins.
Second, binding salts.
He uncorked a small vial and poured the fine, silver-white powder into his palm. The moment it touched his glove, it began to faintly shimmer.
If this door was sealed with magic, binding salts would disrupt the energy long enough for him to slip through.
Third, patience.
Isaac never rushed a job.
He had all the time in the world.
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A DOOR THAT SHOULD NOT OPEN
The ruins were silent.
The mist swirled around Isaac’s feet as he slowly pressed his palm against the door.
The moment his skin made contact...
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A whisper.
A sound so faint, so distant, he wasn’t sure if it was real or just the ruins breathing.
Then, movement.
The symbols on the door flickered.
Not with light. But with shadow.
Like something was shifting beneath the stone. Waiting.
Isaac pulled his hand back, watching.
The ruins had been quiet before.
But now?
Now he had woken something up.
He exhaled, flexing his fingers.
“Alright...” he muttered. “Let’s see what you don’t want me to find.”
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THE MOMENT OF CONTACT
Isaac sprinkled the binding salts over the carvings. Watching as the fine powder sank into the grooves.
At first, nothing happened.
And then...
The ruins groaned.
The air shifted.
And the door began to open.
Not smoothly. Not like a mechanical gate or a hidden passage.
But like stone grinding against bone.
A deep, slow, painful scraping noise filled the ruins as the door split apart. Revealing a passage leading downward.
A stairway.
Not built. Carved.
Leading into pure darkness.
Isaac adjusted his aether lantern before stepping forward.
One foot past the threshold.
Then another.
And then..
The whispers returned.
This time, louder.
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THE DESCENT
The stairway stretched deep beneath the ruins. The carved stone walls tight and uneven.
Isaac moved slowly. The glow of his lantern casting long, flickering shadows.
Every few steps, he passed more carvings.
Some were words, but in a language he didn’t recognize.
Some were symbols, strange and jagged, etched in a way that felt deliberate. Purposeful.
And then..
The walls changed.
The carvings became deeper. More frantic.
As if whoever had made them had been rushed. Or desperate.
Isaac paused, running his fingers over one of the deeper etchings.
Not just carved.
Scratched.
With what?
Fingernails? Claws? A blade?
He exhaled.
“Alright, Hollow.” he murmured. “What were you running from?”
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The stairway opened into a vast chamber.
A circular hall, lined with crumbling pillars and broken statues.
At its center..
A massive stone obelisk.
Covered entirely in writing.
Isaac stepped forward, the air heavier than before.
His boots barely made a sound against the smooth, polished floor.
He stopped just before the obelisk, tilting his head.
At the very bottom, in clear, unmistakable script..
A name.
Veyra the Hollow.
Isaac exhaled.
“Found you.”
Isaac said, but then suddenly,
The stone door behind him slammed shut.