The path inside the Altar was emerald, with torches hanging on the wall. It was bigger than all the others they came across. It was a complex maze of twisted stairwells in various directions.

The group stood at the entrance of the Altar, staring into the abyss of the dark corridor where the altered versions of Fiends awaited and where the boss, the Ultimate Magycte Beast, resided. However, the question that kept replaying in their minds was why. Who was truly behind the Altars? Why were the Children of Deimos back after centuries of hiding in the shadows? What did people like the Lictkrieger and the Primal Weavers have to do with it and the Codex?

They would not know the answers until they traversed deeper inside, and hopefully, they would be able to stop what was already foreshadowing to turn the tides of Aurum for the worse.

Running down the maze steps, the party traveled and pulled into battle with the crystal-blue-eyed Fiends. They alternated tactical battle strategies to defeat them.

Soon after, they approached the first puzzle of the Altar.

“What is that?” Lyra asked, leaning forward to the circular, stone-shaped sundial planted into the ground. “It looks like… A puzzle?”

On the surface, it looked like a maze wall with several moveable pieces at each platform corner.

“Do you know what this is Alivier?”

Alivier pierced a glare at the puzzling device and rubbed his chin. “It is indeed a puzzle but one that I do not recognize, unfortunately.”

The wheels slowly began turning as Eamon stared at the device. His head started to hurt, and strange images from his childhood– a bright white light and performing a similar puzzle– flooded his memory.

“Wait… I think I recognize this?”

Though he was not entirely sure himself, it did not make sense why this object reminded him of his childhood or even why his childhood seemed familiar and foreign at the same time. Eamon approached the Sundial Platform with cautious movements. Lyra looked on with curiosity.

“Careful, Eamon.” Sly cautioned him when he reached out a hesitant hand to grab one of the pieces.

Nothing happened. Not at first. He moved the pieces on the dial, dragging them through the maze walls and to the center. He did that with the other four pieces until a groaning noise from the stone doors opened on command.

“How did those doors open?” Cassandra questioned, looking at the device and pointing it at Eamon.

“Some kind of archaic mechanism is what it looks like.” Sly deduced. “I've read about these. They were once used in temples during the Primal Chaos era.”

“Temples used to worship their false god, Deimos.” Alivier sneered with disgust. “The texts describe archaic things like these. They were not only used as a place of worship but also rituals and sacrifices.”

Everyone stared horrified at Alivier's revelation.

“Ritual? Is that what has been happening around Lysandrian Kingdom? What are they planning then?” Lyra questioned.

Cassandra nodded. “That's what I would like to know, too. A ritual requires an offering, a sacrifice. That Sovran, Croger, told me they sacrificed thousands of soldiers, soldiers like my grandfather. They have placed these rituals all around places of negative energy from centuries ago when Primal Chaos took place.

They all stared at the knowledge they were slowly obtaining.

“Let's go deeper in,” Sly said. “We won't get any answers standing around here.”

Entering deeper into the abyss, the party traveled further into the Altars' domain. The darkness slowly shredded its bleak darkness into an ethereal blue, turning the walls a teal color.

The path became a downward spiral as they descended further into the bowels of darkness. It was not until they reached the end of the stairs that they saw three assailants, two of whom the group knew well: Sovran #0 and #5.

Cassandra gritted her teeth as she glared at the man who had caused the death of her cohort. “You. Maxwell Croger.”

The man turned around, tipping his hat with a grin. “Well, Well, Praefectus. I did not think we'd meet again so soon. I see that arm of yours hasn't healed yet.”

Sovran #0 turned around. His boyish grin spread across his face, and his eyes twinkled, seeing familiar Faces.

“I, unfortunately, cannot share your disbelief Croger.” He shrugged his shoulders, palm outward. “I knew very well that the Rosevera Whip and the Ashbourne heirs would be the heroes of Aurum. Too bad the others couldn't have made it.”

“Tch, others?” Alivier spat. “What are you foul beings doing here? And if you have the Codex, you would do right by handing it back to where it belongs, with Lumos herself.”

Finnian’s eyes twinkled, and he leaned forward with pursed lips. “Ooh, a Lictkrieger. I have not seen you, light warriors, for quite a long time. Still hailing that monster of a problem, Lumos, yes?”

“You cretins are the ones who hail a monster,” Alivier snapped back.

Croger sighed. “All this back and forth is nonsense. Are we almost done here, Professor?”

They addressed the third individual in the room—a stout older man with a hunched back and balding gray hair. He turned to the party, revealing weathered pale skin—his wire-rimmed glasses over dull, lifeless gray eyes. Yet, despite his aged appearance, there was a presence of power lurking in him.

“Greetings, Locksmiths, Lictkrieger, and Praefectus and… Eamon.”

Eamon frowned, wondering how this man knew his name. He was about to ask him, but he flinched and cried out in pain, grabbing his right eye as it and the tension of his head throbbed.

“Eamon!” Lyra crouched to the floor where he had fallen to his knees. He gritted his teeth, one hand over his eye and the other holding Lyra’s hand.

“What… who are you?”

The man smiled an eerie grin that was scarily familiar.

“Why, you don't remember me… Black Thorn?”

At the mention of the name in this man's voice–it was different than when Nikolai said it–a flurry of visions appeared in his head. His memories were filtered blue coloring as he saw images of his parents, but they were not traversing the market spaces of Sylvanbrook or toiling away in the fields. Instead, they were inside a lab and looking directly at him, not with care or love, but like a specimen. He saw the white light, but it was not from the sun but from the artificial lights inside a lab, where they tested him.

He was not even in the safety of his bed but in an experiment tube.

‘Welcome to the world, Black Thorn,’ his father said, dry-like watching from outside the tube. This was not how he remembered him.

‘Shall we continue to undergo the test, Professor Walsh?’ His mother asked. Cold and uncaring. Not the melodic voice he used to that sang him to sleep.

‘No, he should be ready. As a test run, you both shall raise it. Start a family in the town of Sylvanbrook. The time will come when he is needed, and then the plan shall be set in motion.’

The vision disappeared, but it was as if Eamon was still reliving those foreign yet familiar memories.

“No… that can't be… none of that is true.” His eyes blurred with tears. His hand dropped to his side and revealed one eye had turned red.

Lyra gasped. She tried to shake Eamon from his state, but it was as if whatever he saw had paralyzed him.

“What have you done to him?!” Lyra yelled at Professor Walsh—fury in her eyes, glaring at the apathetic man in robed white.

Wait, robed white? That's what Aurora had described in her memories.

“It is quite a lot to unpack, my dear, and frankly, I'm not sure you'll be able to comprehend, let alone deal with the truth.”

“Cut your crap and stop your rambling.” Sly berated the man, stepping forward to shield Lyra and Eamon.

“Ramblings? Surely not. If anything, I consider it exactly what he needs. Don't you agree, Black Thorn?”

“Stop calling him that!” Lyra shouted, standing to her feet, but she pulled back down when Eamon gripped her hand. She looked down, seeing that he was sweating. Fear and recognition were in his eyes. Seeing him look this way made her sick to her stomach. Something was not right.

“Enough of this!” Cassandra yelled back. “What are you fiends doing here? Are you the one causing these Altars to appear around Lysandrian?”

“And if so, is this for that Master you spoke of?” Sly said afterward.

Professor Walsh clapped. “All excellent questions, yes, but I’m afraid I can't answer them. Not yet, anyway. Now, if you will, please return to the duties you assigned to you and made for Black Thorn… Sovran #7.”

Something pulled at the recesses of his mind as images flooded back into him—his ‘parents’ as they coached and taught him to be human. The loving images he had conjured were only manifestations that they had used to brainwash him. He shook his head wildly. He did not understand. He thought his parents were his, but he could not have been more wrong. He was an experiment, and they were his makers. He was nothing more than…

“A Homunculus….” he breathed out the words. His breath was shaky as he grabbed his chest.

“Ah, he's finally getting the picture, Prof,” Croger commented with a half-crooked grin. “And I can feel the presence of Sovran #6, the White Krieg above us.”

Lyra frowned. White Krieg? Surely, they couldn't be talking about Aurora. As if Walsh could read Lyra's mind, he responded to her in kind, “Yes, that little girl you've taken into your care. Aurora. You named it, right?”

Lyra flinched at the blatant lack of care by calling her it.

“Your surprise never gets old, dear. Yes, the one you call Aurora is, in fact, a Sovran and Homunculus: flesh from body parts and Deimos’ very own essence created for his one true goal. However, Eamon…” he let out a low chuckle. “He's by far the most experimental of them all in a long time. We have been working on a special project for over a decade: a Dormant Shadow. A specialized type of Homunculus created with a hidden identity that a specific trigger can activate.”

Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

“You're lying!” Lyra spat at him. However, in her heart, she knew the words to be true. Her eyes blinked away the tears that threatened to burst.

“Am I, though? During the Primal Chaos Era, Deimos’s followers developed the technique of creating Dormant Shadows to plant spies and assassins within enemy ranks. The knowledge of this dark art was thought to be lost, but remnants survived and are now being used by the Children of Deimos to achieve what was taken from us.”

“Lyra…” Eamon whispered, pulling her attention to his crouched form. “I'm sorry I hadn't told you about my time in the military…. I thought the Master would turn me away, and then you and I were… terrified. But I didn't know about this, I swear.”

Lyra shook her head at him, her eyes welling with tears. “We wouldn't have done that. We wouldn't have turned our backs on you; you must believe that.”

Eamon flinched. “Maybe. Sly, I'm sorry, too. Thank you for taking me under your wing with Lyra; I don't know how to repay you.”

“You don't,” Sly told him. “Whatever secrets you have were in the past. That does not affect your future. The you, I know, is a Locksmith through and through, you hear me?”

Eamon pursed his lips. He stood to his feet and gripped his hands in a fist. “No. I can't be forgiven, not after all those people… not after the tragedy ....”

Lyra's heart throbbed in its chest as she stared at Eamon, pouring out his heart—the truth of what he had been hiding since returning from the military.

“Eamon… What are you saying? Is this… About the Veilfall tragedy?”

Everyone fell silent, and all eyes were on Eamon. Who clenched and unclenched his quivering hands.

“I was there. There was no Veilspawn that night because…” He raised his head, his teary eyes blurry and brimmed red. “...They were already dead.”

Walsh tsked, sucking his teeth and waving a finger in the air. “You're missing crucial information, my boy. But that is the risk when memories are locked away in a Dormant.” He snapped his fingers.

The realization shone on his face as horrid images formed in Eamon's mind. The memories that had been stored away and buried from him. The tears fell. “No…It was me. I… I was the one who killed them. It was me.”

Everything inside Lyra broke as she stared at the grieving young man in front of her—the boy who she had grown up with and liked. There was no way he could have been a killer.

Sly and Cassandra were shocked, staring at Eamon in disbelief. Lyra shook her head. “NO.” Her voice hardened, catching everyone off guard. “You wouldn't just slaughter innocents. No, that was not you… not really. I won't believe the Eamon I know is a killer.”

Her eyes squared at the two Sovrans and Walsh, who only smiled.

“You're quite the perceptive girl, aren't you? I do see a great deal of Arcemedus in you. Spitting image of him too. I knew you'd follow in his footsteps.”

Lyra blinked, taken aback hearing her father's name. “W-what?”

“But I'm afraid we are out of time,” he snapped his fingers. “The ritual is complete now.”

Finnian giggled. “While seeing the surprises on your faces about all these reveals was fun to watch, it was only bypassing time for completing the ritual.”

“What, ritual?” Alivier said through gritted teeth.

“Why, what else, my Lictkrieger friend? The Curse, of course. It shall awaken the Altars throughout Aurum and awaken Deimos. Our Master, the Arbiter, has planned this for a long time, and we couldn't have done it without the “heroes of Aurum” to set the playing field.”

Confusion was written on their faces as they awaited answers that did not come from them but from Alivier.

Fear etched into his wide eyes and paled his complexion as he took in the information. “The Codex… you took it to activate the Astral Contract.”

“Ding! Ding! Give him a prize, folks!” Finnian exclaimed and danced in place.

Before anyone could ask anything else, the ground below their feet shook, and the crumbling rocks above pelted down.

The rumbling turned to roars.

“What is that?” Lyra cried out.

“The last summoning to complete the contract. Thank you, dear Locksmiths. For we couldn't have done this without you.” He turned to look at Eamon. “I await your arrival. Return to where you belong, Sovran Black Thorn.”

In a mystical energy that wrapped around them, the Sovrans and the Professor disappeared—leaving them to face the Beast that lived below.

“And once negativity has been thwarted, shall the Altars rise and summon 72 Great Void Beasts, one guardian for each Altar.” Aliver reiterated from memory what was inside the Codex. “The first Beast that lurks shadows, the Nightmare Beasts. Here be, Baal.”

On cue, the nightmarish monster emerged from the ground. They were face to face with a twenty-foot-tall behemoth of a beast.

“Everyone… Brace yourself!” Sly called out to them.

The hollow chamber echoed from its rumbling as the party faced the emerging colossal Behemoth Baal. Dirty bandages wrapped around its floating corpse head, revealing one gold eye on its forehead through the slit. The creature's form was a grotesque amalgamation of ethereal essence and monstrous sinew, wrapped tightly in bandages and looming like an ancient titan. The air crackled with tension as the companions prepared for battle. Lyra’s sword gleamed with luminous power. She took the lead. Sly circled the behemoth, seeking its weak spots with strikes of her whip. Cassandra attacked the tendrils of shadows that protruded from the ground.

With them stood Alivier, aiming beams of light at Baal to blind the enemy.

Baal's colossal form stretched out a monstrous claw, swiping at the party. Lyra deftly evaded, striking at the appendage with Riftbreaker. Sly found the weak points of its arm and, with her whip, channeled Essentia throughout the weapon, causing the Beast to take massive amounts of damage from the attack.

Cassandra, though one arm, became a shield for her companions. Taking hits that would have proved fatal and dodged the attacks with her Ax. Yet, the Behemoth Baal was relentless, its otherworldly roars shaking the very foundations of the chamber.

As the battle intensified, Eamon, paralyzed from the release of Dormant side, watched helplessly. Baal sensed his vulnerability and turned its attention toward him. A dark energy encased Eamon, threatening to consume him.

“Eamon!” Lyra shouted. She leaped between Eamon and the encroaching darkness, slicing the darkness before it could connect.

“Alivier, I need you to guard Eamon so I can attack!”

Understanding, Alivier took her place and shielded Eamon from further harm so Lyra could focus.

The cavern quivered as Lyra clashed with Baal, meeting the Beast's ethereal maw. While working in tandem, Sly and Cassandra orchestrated attacks, exposing weaknesses in Baal's defenses. Alivier pressed the offensive, his light keeping back the shadows.

The colossal Behemoth Baal, realizing it was outmatched, cried out for help. A swirling mob of Fiends surged into the cavern, and like shadows given form, the crystallized creatures rushed to overwhelm the party. Lyra weaved Riftblade through the air with fluid precision, engaging the Fiends, each swing a cascaded radiant power cutting through the ethereal horde. Sly disabled the Fiends with a lightning strike of attacks, giving the party a momentary respite.

Cassandra became a whirlwind of destruction, cleaving through the Fiends with raw, brutal strength.

Despite their combined efforts, Eamon remained trapped, unable to contribute to the battle. His paralysis left him vulnerable, and the Fiends, sensing his weakness, closed in with relentless intent. Alivier created a wall of light that dispersed the shadows when they made contact with it. Sly and Cassandra, a seamless duo, skillfully dispatched the encroaching Fiends with marveling speed.

What seemed like the climax of the battle was only a ruse. The colossal Behemoth exuded seemingly malevolent energy from nowhere, returning its health to peak condition.

Lyra panted, exhausted from her constant swings. This is insane! She exclaimed, looking to the side where everyone fought together. She swiped her forward, free of sweat. We were chopping its health down. I’ve seen it weakening, but it will keep regenerating its health. It won’t be long until it summons more mobs to overwhelm us, and then we’re done. No, this isn’t enough. We need more power, but how….

Hearing her plea, Riftblade gleamed with ethereal brilliance.

Lyra felt a surge of power within her. The Wellsprings responded to her call, their energies converging around her like a cyclone of raw essence. It was a power beyond anything she had wielded before.

Unexpectedly, she sensed a gentle presence alongside the Wellsprings, a guiding hand that whispered to her. She suspected it to be the ethereal touch of Saint Lumos herself.

Her eyes widened, staring at the gilded white light from her weapon. The brightness reflected in her eyes. She could almost see a woman’s figure in the blades, blinding light.

Lyra closed her eyes, resting the blade on her forehead, and whispered, “Give me strength, Lumos.”

A gentle hand coaxed her cheek. She snapped open her eyes.

“Cover for me!” she shouted to those that could hear her. Sly and Cassandra nodded in tandem.

Lyra dashed across the Altar’s stone floor, dodging the Behemoth's shadowy attacks with extreme agility. Sly and Cassandra continued to clear a path for her while Alivier unleashed torrents of radiant light, holding the Fiends at bay.

In a moment of profound focus, Lyra propelled herself forward. She closed the distance between herself and the Behemoth in a heartbeat, ascending into the air with unparalleled grace. With a resounding cry, she called upon the combined might of the Wellsprings, and Saint Lumos' divine guidance erupted from her blade. "Holy Radiant of the Dawn Slash!" she exclaimed, the words carrying the weight of her conviction. The Radiant sword cleaved through the Behemoth's shadowy form, and in response, the monstrous creature roared with the divine strike. The shadows and Fiends dissipated in tow.

The cavern quaked with the intensity of the clash, and the Altar, its ethereal energies disrupted by Baal's defeat, began to tremble ominously. The realization struck them: the Altar was on the brink of self-destruction.

Lyra descended from the air, and Riftblade dimmed as the Wellsprings' energies subsided. She stood amidst the aftermath, breathless but triumphant. She staggered slightly, exhausted from the impossible amount of power with the combined forces of the Wellsprings and Lumos, but she kept upright, as they were not out of danger yet.

Sly came to her side and assisted her standing. “I’ve got you,” she said. Her eyes marveled with praise.

The Altar shook again, reminding them of the detonation set in motion leading to the Behemoth Magycte Beast’s defeat.

The companions rushed to escape the crumbling cavern. Alivier provided cover from falling debris as Lyra and Sly carried the paralyzed Eamon. The ground quaked beneath them as they navigated through collapsing passages of mazes.

They narrowly escaped, reaching the exit, and burst into the open air. The Altar collapsed behind them. The party, battered and exhausted, watched as the cavern imploded, sealing away the remnants of the ethereal threat. Everyone caught their breath—Ealdred and Aurora rushed to Lyra’s side, and Tierney to Cassandra, checking on them—before they realized the events that had just transpired.

“What was that, Alivier, because you seemed to know a great deal about that Contract. What did Walsh mean when he said we helped him?!” Lyra shouted at him once she caught her breath, fury dangerously in her eyes.

“The Astral Contract. It was once… Used to bind the will of humans.” Everyone gasped.

Cassandra shook her head. “Absurd. Lumos would never steal anyone's free will.”

Alivier bowed his head, following silently.

“Answer her!” Lyra screamed at him.

“Yes… It's true.” Alivier whispered. Malakyh, who sucked his teeth with a ‘hypocrite’ response, followed him.

“Out with it, Alivier,” Sly demanded. Hoping to keep things from getting confrontational, she was unsure how much she could hold back Cassandra, Let alone Lyra.

“Centuries ago, before the world was as it was, Lumos and Deimos created the world. They worked together for the most part, but they had differing ideas. Lumos created the lives of humans and Deimos animals until he began to morph his creations, creating Fiends and Veilspawn with their own conscious will. Lumos saw the chaotic beings without free will, so she stripped that away from his creations and was about to do the same to humans as she feared we would lose control. That's when the wars started between Deimos and Lumos, as he spread what Lumos was capable of doing and split humanity into different factions: non-Essentia humans, the Children of Deimos, Lichtkriegers, and those gifted with Essentia, like Locksmiths.”

He continued, “Their battles raged on and soiled the lands cursed with the blood of the innocent, soiled with negativity from both sides: good and evil. So with that Codex, the one Lumos used to seal away Deimos, someone. Their Master likely stole it back and somehow used a reverse spell on the Astral Contract. A prophesied ritual was set in motion to reenact what happened centuries ago, but this time reversed.”

“The Astral Contract was reversed, to control the Will–and repeat history– but with a new group of the same species as the prior ancestors. They would traverse Aurum because it was where the last battle between Deimos and Lumos took place. The Codex would turn the tides of battle so the wielder would emerge the victor.”

“And you… kept this from us. You knew we were all pawns!” Lyra lashed out with her fist and struck Alivier across the cheek.

He fell back, but he did not fight back. He lay on the ground, facing the fury in her eyes.

“And you called us traitors,” Malakyh spat. “The Coven was ostracized for nothing.”

Through the fray and chaos, they did not realize that Eamon was missing, but it wasn't just him.

“What?” Cassandra exclaimed at something Tierney had said.

Lyra snapped out of her rage and noticed that not only Eamon but Aurora was missing.

“Eamon! Aurora!” Lyra cried out their names. Panic burned her insides as she hollered out for them but received no response.

“Lyra… look.” Sly caught her attention as they looked at the grounds of their feet and saw Nightshade sprouting from the ground as purple miasma circled it.

“We have to move quickly!” Ealdred shouted.

They reached the forest's edge, and to everyone's relief, Eamon stood with Aurora in the crook of his arms.

“Oh, thank Lumos,” Lyra exclaimed, heading over to him. Eamon shifted Aurora's wait into her arms. “When we didn't see you, we thought the worst.”

“I managed to get us away first in case they still came for us.” His tone was low and strangely melancholy. Lyra could not help but pick up something from it, considering all he had gone through.

“You know I'm here for you, right? If you wanna talk…”

He faintly smiled at her. “I know.”

“Alright, is everyone accounted for?” Ealdred called out, counting everyone. He sighed with relief. “Good. Let us head back and make sure the citizens are safe.”

Everyone agreed. Lyra started to walk but stopped. She turned to see Eamon had spaced out. She held Aurora before calling to him, “You coming?”

Eamon pulled his focus back to her and smiled. “Yeah, let's help the others.”

In the wake of it all, Sylvanbrook and its people were unharmed. People rejoiced; despite grim things, they would not squander their time in fear. Ealdred thought it best to relieve people of stress in a quaint festivity, with security patrolling the area. Now was not the time for panic, and what better way to celebrate than promoting C-Rank Locksmiths to B-Rank?

For the moment, the Locksmiths would rest, preserve their energy, and plan strategically. A new dawn was approaching, though unsettling, and that would not stop them until there was peace in Aurum again.

They were Locksmiths, after all, the keepers of peace.