The light engulfed the chamber, erasing all shadows and leaving only an endless expanse of white. For a moment, Jaeden thought he was alone, floating in a void. Then the visions began.
He saw glimpses of battles fought long before his time -figures wreathed in light and shadow clashing on landscapes that defied description. He saw the forge, whole and unbroken, in the hands of beings he couldn’t comprehend, shaping weapons that burned with impossible energy.
Then came the darkness. A void that consumed everything in its path, spreading like a disease across the worlds. The forge dimmed in the vision, its light fading as the darkness encroached. The last image burned itself into Jaeden’s mind: a figure, wreathed in shadow and flame, wielding a weapon forged from light and abyssal energy.
The light faded, and Jaeden found himself back in the chamber, his knees buckling beneath him. He barely caught himself on the edge of the forge, his breath ragged.
“Jaeden!” Liandra’s voice cut through the haze, pulling him back to reality. She was at his side in an instant, her shadow-threads steadying him. “What happened?”
Jaeden shook his head, trying to clear the lingering images from his mind. “I don’t know,” he said hoarsely. “But I think… I think I just got the instruction manual.”
“To what?” She asked concerned.
“I have no idea.”
The forge pulsed again, and the shard in Jaeden’s hand disintegrated into a stream of light that spiraled into the glyphs. The forge’s hum deepened, and from its center, a new shape began to form -a weapon unlike anything Jaeden had ever seen.
The blade was long and sleek, its surface a swirling blend of silver and obsidian. Glyphs ran along its length, glowing faintly with a power that felt both ancient and raw. The grip and hilt were incomplete, and there was no guard, but it hinted at an intricate masterwork in progress, its design echoing the patterns on the forge.
Jaeden reached out instinctively, and the moment his fingers closed around the unfinished metal, a surge of energy coursed through him. The blade of the weapon felt alive, its power pulsing in time with his heartbeat.
“Balance restored,” the voice intoned. “Bearer, the path ahead is yours to forge.”
The forge dimmed, its glyphs fading into silence as the unfinished weapon settled into Jaeden’s grip. He stared at it, a mixture of awe and trepidation on his face. It looked like a sleeker, sinister match to the Orichalcum blade in his other hand.
“What is it?” Liandra asked, her voice soft but laced with tension.
Jaeden took a deep breath, his fingers brushing the glowing glyphs on the blade. “Your guess is as good as mine, but I’m pretty sure it’s a key,” he said finally. “To what, I have no idea. But something tells me we’re going to find out.”
The chamber fell silent, but the air remained charged with residual energy. Liandra glanced around warily, her shadow-threads fanning out like a protective barrier. “We need to move,” she said. “That much power… it won’t go unnoticed.”
Jaeden nodded, sliding the incomplete weapon into a makeshift leather sheath on his back. “Lead the way, shadow queen. I’ll follow your lead.”
As they made their way toward the next passage, Liandra paused, her gaze lingering on Jaeden. “What you saw… in the light. It wasn’t just an illusion for you, was it?”
Jaeden hesitated, the memory of the visions still fresh in his mind. “No,” he admitted. “It felt bigger. Like it’s connected to everything.”
Liandra’s expression darkened, her shadow-threads curling tighter around her. “Then we’re not just fighting for our lives anymore.”
Jaeden grinned, though it lacked his usual humor. “When were we ever?”
The air grew colder as Jaeden and Liandra pressed onward, the faint glow of the forge fading behind them. The walls of the tunnel seemed to narrow, their jagged edges encroaching like the jaws of a trap. The faint sound of their footsteps echoed endlessly, mixing with a distant hum that vibrated through Jaeden’s chest.
He gripped the Orichalcum Sword of Asterius tighter. The weapon was quiet now, but he could feel its hunger simmering beneath the surface, like a predator biding its time. A shiver crawled up his spine, and he wondered -not for the first time- how much longer he could keep the cursed blade under control.
Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
“Still alive back there?” Liandra’s voice broke the silence, sharp and precise as ever. She walked a few paces ahead, her shadow-threads weaving faint patterns in the air. They flickered like nervous fireflies, reflecting her own unease.
Jaeden smirked, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Barely. The ambiance down here could use some work. How about a skylight or two?”
Liandra didn’t respond immediately, but her shoulders tensed slightly, her threads coiling tighter. “Focus, Jaeden. This place isn’t done testing us.”
“Yeah, about that,” Jaeden said, falling into step beside her. “You sure you don’t know what’s going on here? I mean, you’re supposed to be the native expert. This whole death-maze aesthetic feels like your people’s thing.”
Liandra stopped, turning to face him. Her violet eyes were sharp, her expression unreadable. “What do you know of my people? You think I planned this?”
Jaeden raised his hands defensively. “I didn’t say that. I just thought -look, you’re the one with all the shadow tricks. You seem like you’d know your way around creepy glyphs and haunted passages.”
Liandra’s lips twitched, though it wasn’t quite a smile. “Shadow magic doesn’t make me an architect of ancient dungeons. And for the record, Jaeden, I’m not from here.”
That gave him pause. He tilted his head, studying her with renewed curiosity. “Not from here? As in…?”
“As in, not from this abyss,” she said curtly, her gaze returning to the path ahead. “But I’ve been here long enough to know it doesn’t follow the rules of any world I’ve known.”
Jaeden frowned, falling silent for a moment. He had assumed she was tied to this place, that her shadow-threads and cryptic knowledge made her part of its fabric. Now, doubts swirled in his mind.
Maybe it is an escort quest after all, he thought dryly, though the idea didn’t bring the comfort it should have. If Liandra wasn’t tied to this place, then she was just as much an outsider as he was. And that meant they were both flying blind.
The tunnel opened into a long, narrow hallway, its walls lined with faded murals. The artwork depicted scenes of light and shadow locked in an eternal dance -figures wreathed in flame battling creatures of pure darkness. The imagery was hauntingly beautiful, yet unsettling in its clarity. As Jaeden moved closer, his Meta Sight flickered to life, revealing faint patterns beneath the surface of the murals.
He stopped, his gaze narrowing as layers of meaning unraveled before him. The figures weren’t just fighting; they were transforming. Beings of light twisted into creatures of shadow, and vice versa, their forms blurring into a chaotic tapestry of change.
“What do you see?” Liandra asked, her voice breaking through his concentration.
“Layers,” Jaeden muttered, running his fingers over one of the murals. “These aren’t just pretty pictures. They’re showing… cycles. Change. Like light becoming shadow and shadow becoming-” He stopped, his stomach twisting as the implications hit him.
Liandra studied him carefully. “And where do you see yourself in that cycle?”
Jaeden hesitated, his hand dropping to the hilt of the Orichalcum Sword. The weapon’s presence pressed against him like a whisper in the back of his mind, urging him to step further into the darkness. He shook his head, forcing a grin. “I’m the guy who skips the cycle and breaks the wheel.”
Liandra didn’t respond, but her gaze lingered on him, searching for cracks in his armor. Her thoughts were a tangle of suspicion and unease. He hides behind humor, but he’s breaking under the weight of that sword. It’s eating at him. And if he falls…
She pushed the thought away, turning toward the end of the hallway. “We’re close. Stay sharp.”
Close to what? Jaeden thought. “I thought you said you weren’t from around here.”
“I’m not blind, Jaeden. Even I can sense the power ahead. Can’t you?” she asked as she looked at him.
He didn’t answer. Instead he made his way forward, his focus on the struggle in his head.
The hallway ended abruptly, opening into a circular chamber shrouded in mist. The walls were covered in living glyphs, their patterns shifting and pulsing like veins beneath translucent skin. At the center of the room, a pool of aetheric energy rippled, its surface reflecting images that changed too quickly to follow.
Jaeden stopped in his tracks, his stomach twisting as the energy pressed against him. It wasn’t malevolent, but it wasn’t welcoming either. It felt… curious.
Liandra’s shadow-threads fanned out defensively. “This is it,” she said quietly. “The heart of the mountain.”
“Great,” Jaeden muttered. “Because I was just thinking we needed a boss room.”
Before Liandra could reply, the mist in the center of the room began to coalesce. A towering figure emerged, its form shifting constantly between light and shadow. Its voice, deep and resonant, echoed directly into their minds.
“Bearer of chaos and balance. Broken thread of shadow. You stand before the Oracle.”
Jaeden tensed, his hand tightening around the sword’s hilt. “Oh! A fancy fortune teller. What do you want?”
The Oracle’s gaze -or what passed for it- settled on him. “It is not I who seeks. It is you. The balance is yours to hold, bearer. But the blade you wield hungers for change. Will you guide it toward creation… or destruction?”
Jaeden felt the sword stir in his hand, its energy flaring like a heartbeat. He clenched his jaw, fighting against the pull. “It’s just a weapon,” he said through gritted teeth. “It doesn’t decide anything.”
The Oracle’s form flickered, its voice tinged with amusement. “You lie to yourself, bearer. The blade is more than metal and curse. It reflects you, amplifies you. You are the balance -light and shadow, chaos and order. A weapon for change, be it good or evil.”
Jaeden’s chest tightened. He wanted to argue, to deny the Oracle’s words, but deep down, he knew they were true. The sword wasn’t just a tool. It was part of him now, feeding on his doubts, his fears, his desires.
“Stop it,” Liandra snapped, stepping between Jaeden and the Oracle. Her shadow-threads coiled protectively around her. “Leave him alone.”
The Oracle shifted, turning its gaze to her. “And you, broken thread. You seek to escape your past, yet it binds you. Do you believe the bearer will save you? Or do you fear he will become what you dread most?”
Liandra’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t flinch. “I believe in his strength,” she said evenly. “And I’ll make sure he doesn’t fall.”
The Oracle’s voice softened, almost gentle. “A noble lie. Perhaps it will suffice.”
Without warning, the chamber darkened, the mist swirling into a vortex around Jaeden and Liandra. The floor beneath them vanished, replaced by a shifting void of light and shadow. The Oracle’s voice echoed once more.
“Prove your worth. Face your truths.”