The streets of Caris were darker than Aethren remembered. It wasn't just the absence of sunlight filtering through the clouds—it was something deeper, a palpable shift in the air that pressed against the skin like a weight. As he walked, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the city was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

Elyra walked beside him, her eyes sharp and watchful, as always. She had been quiet since their meeting with the council, but Aethren could sense the same unease in her as he felt in himself. It was as if something had been irrevocably changed, and neither of them could predict what came next.

"Do you think they know?" she asked suddenly, breaking the silence. Her voice was low, but the question hung in the air like a question that had been asked many times before.

Aethren glanced at her, his expression hardening. "The council? They don’t know everything. And even if they do, they’re not telling us everything. I can feel it."

"Varek... and Eryna," she said thoughtfully. "They’re hiding something. I know it."

"You’re not the only one who feels that way." He turned his gaze toward the buildings around them, his mind trying to make sense of the puzzle. "But why? What are they hiding?"

Elyra paused, her lips tightening. "It’s not just the council. It’s everyone. The people are scared. You can see it in their eyes, in the way they watch us as we walk through the streets. Caris is a city on edge, and it won’t take much for panic to set in."

"Which is why we have to act fast," Aethren said, his voice steady but firm. "We don’t have the luxury of time. If the Void is already inside the city, we need to find it before it takes root somewhere we can’t reach."

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The outskirts of Caris were a stark contrast to the grand city center. The towering spires of marble and stone gave way to modest homes and crumbling structures. This part of the city, with its narrow alleys and winding streets, was where the working-class lived—people who didn't have the luxury of wealth or influence but still held the city together with their hands and sweat.

As they walked, Aethren noticed the same signs of unease that Elyra had pointed out. There was a strange, almost unnatural quiet in the air, and the people they passed avoided eye contact, their gazes drifting downward or off into the distance as if they feared something—or someone—was watching them.

They came to the district near the mines, a part of the city that had been particularly affected by the Void’s corruption. The buildings here were in a state of decay, their walls stained with soot and grime. Some of the houses appeared abandoned, their doors swinging loosely in the wind, while others had been hastily boarded up.

"This is it," Rhael said, breaking the silence as he pointed toward a dilapidated building near the edge of the district. "We need to start here."

Aethren nodded, his senses on high alert. The air here felt heavier, thick with something he couldn’t quite identify. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as they approached the building. This was where the Void’s influence had likely begun to seep into the city. If they could trace it back to its source, they might find a way to stop it for good.

Thalira moved ahead, her steps silent but purposeful. She was always the first to act, always ready to plunge into the unknown without hesitation. But even she seemed to sense the wrongness of the place, her usual confidence dimmed by the oppressive atmosphere.

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Aethren glanced over at her. "Be careful. We don’t know what we’re dealing with yet."

Thalira gave him a wry smile. "I’ll be fine. You just worry about your precious bookish mage."

Rhael rolled his eyes but didn’t comment. Instead, he muttered an incantation under his breath, his staff glowing faintly as he stepped forward, his eyes scanning the surroundings.

The door to the building was slightly ajar, and as they entered, the scent of damp stone and rotting wood filled their noses. The inside was as grim as the outside—dusty, abandoned, and silent. But Aethren could feel the weight of something in the air, a dense energy that tugged at the edge of his mind.

They made their way through the main hall, past broken furniture and cracked walls, until they reached the back of the building. There, hidden beneath a layer of debris, was a trapdoor.

"This is it," Elyra said, crouching down to examine it. Her hands brushed away the dust and debris, revealing a set of strange markings carved into the surface of the door. "These symbols... they’re not from Caris."

"No," Aethren agreed, kneeling beside her. "They’re older. Much older."

The markings resembled ancient runes, their edges worn from time, but their power still radiated faintly. It was the same feeling he had gotten from the altar in the mines—a connection to something ancient and dark.

"Do you think the Void used these?" Elyra asked, her voice low, almost fearful.

Aethren hesitated before answering. "I think they might have used them to hide something—or to summon something. The Void isn’t bound by the same rules as we are. Its influence can take many forms, and it doesn’t need a physical form to be a threat."

Elyra nodded, her expression grim. "So we have no idea what we’re about to uncover."

"No," Aethren said softly. "But we can’t back away now."

With a nod, Elyra helped him lift the trapdoor, revealing a narrow, descending staircase that disappeared into the shadows below.

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The air grew colder as they descended, the darkness swallowing them whole. Aethren’s lantern flickered, casting eerie shadows on the stone walls. The steps creaked beneath their weight, and the faint sound of dripping water echoed in the distance, adding to the oppressive silence.

At the bottom of the staircase, they emerged into a large, underground chamber. The walls were lined with more of the strange runes, their glow faint but unmistakable. The floor was covered in a thick layer of dust, but there were signs that something had been moved recently.

"This place feels wrong," Thalira muttered, her eyes scanning the room. "I don’t like it."

"Neither do I," Aethren admitted, his grip on the Cleansing Flame tightening. The sense of unease was growing stronger with each passing second. "But we have to press on. Whatever’s down here is connected to the Void."

As they advanced deeper into the chamber, they reached the far end, where a strange altar stood in the center. It was smaller than the one in the mines but no less foreboding. Blackened stone covered with unfamiliar symbols sat atop a pedestal, and there was an unnatural energy radiating from it.

Rhael stepped forward, his staff glowing brighter as he examined the altar. "This is a focus," he said. "A conduit for the Void’s power."

Aethren’s heart sank. "And it’s still active."

Before anyone could respond, the ground beneath them trembled, and a cold, hollow laugh filled the chamber.

"You should not have come here," a voice whispered, low and menacing. The shadows in the room shifted, coalescing into a form that emerged from the darkness.

Aethren’s eyes narrowed as the figure took shape—a tall, gaunt figure dressed in tattered robes, its face obscured by a dark hood. The air around it warped, as though reality itself was bending in its presence.

"Who are you?" Aethren demanded, his voice steady but filled with rising tension.

The figure tilted its head, and when it spoke again, its voice was a rasping whisper that seemed to echo from every direction. "I am the keeper of this place, the one who has been chosen to serve the Void. And now... you will serve it too."

The figure raised its hand, and the shadows in the room seemed to pulse in response. The temperature dropped, and Aethren could feel the Void’s corrupting presence closing in around them.