The convoy followed Tharuk into the hidden passage, the narrow walls pressing close on either side. Stalactites and jagged outcroppings jutted from the ceiling and walls, forcing the wagons to maneuver carefully. The air grew colder, and the dim glow of minerals cast flickering patterns on the stone.
Tharuk moved confidently, his lithe frame navigating the cramped terrain with ease. “This way… just wide enough for your wagons,” he said, his voice calm but echoing slightly in the confined space.
Kael stayed at the front, his cybernetic eye scanning the uneven ground ahead. The path was far rougher than the tunnels they had traveled before. Large gaps, crumbled ledges, and sudden inclines slowed their progress.
“The wagons can’t get through here,” Felix muttered, gesturing to a jagged drop blocking their way.
Kael nodded. “We’ll need to make it passable.”
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The group got to work. Alma stepped forward first, her small hands trembling slightly as she extended them toward the gap. Her Terran Mana pulsed faintly, and the stone shifted under her command, forming a sturdy, even path for the first wagon.
Elira took the lead at the next obstacle. She knelt, placing her hands on the rocky edge of another gap. Thick vines sprouted and twisted under her guidance, weaving into a solid bridge strong enough for the wagons to cross.
At the third gap, Berry stepped forward. “I’ve got this one,” he said, raising his staff. Arcane symbols flickered in the air as he muttered an incantation. A glowing construct of shimmering energy formed over the gap—a bridge of translucent, pale blue light.
Kael nodded and began to step forward, but as his boots touched the arcane surface, something changed. The construct pulsed weakly, its glow dimming as cracks began to form along its length.
“Stop!” Berry shouted, his voice laced with alarm.
Before Kael could retreat, the construct shattered, sending a cascade of glowing shards into the void below. Kael caught himself on the ledge, pulling back quickly. Berry’s brow furrowed, confusion etched across his face. “That shouldn’t have happened.”
Kael frowned, his voice calm but curious. “What’s wrong?”
Berry’s gaze flickered to Kael, then to the remnants of the shattered construct. “The Mana… it wasn’t stable. It felt like something was… pulling it.”
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His words hung in the air, but Kael brushed it aside. “I’ll cross alone,” he said, leaping across the gap with practiced ease. Once on the other side, he gestured back. “Try again.”
Berry hesitated but raised his staff once more. The glowing construct reformed, this time steady and unwavering. He watched it closely, his mind racing with questions as the wagons cautiously made their way across. When the first wagon crossed without issue, the rest followed with solid steps, the construct holding firm.
Berry lingered at the edge of the crossing, his expression thoughtful. “Why did it react to him?” he muttered under his breath.
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The narrow passage widened into a massive chamber, dominated by a single towering gate. Its surface was forged from an unidentifiable metal, smooth and faintly reflective, with intricate symbols etched across its expanse. The patterns formed an interconnected puzzle, glowing faintly in the dim light, exuding an ancient and enigmatic power.
Tharuk gestured toward it. “Zharakai,” he said simply.
The villagers stared in awe, their whispers carrying a mix of fear and reverence. The gate stood slightly ajar, and as the convoy approached, two Molvari guards emerged from the shadows. Their dark forms moved with precision, their sharp eyes scanning the group before focusing on Kael.
Without hesitation, the guards lowered their spears and placed clawed hands over their chests, bowing their heads. In deep, melodic voices, they spoke a single word: “Skarven.”
Kael nodded in acknowledgment, his calm demeanor steadying the villagers. “They’re welcoming us,” he said, gesturing for the group to follow.
Berry shook his head slowly, his curiosity evident. “Skarven… it means more than just a name,” he muttered, watching as Kael exchanged a brief nod with Tharuk. “But what?”
Tharuk glanced back briefly, his voice calm but cryptic. “Skarven… is honor. Title of one who opened the sacred gate.”
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Beyond the gate, the convoy entered a vast chamber where massive spiral passageways carved into the stone descended into the depths. Each spiral glowed faintly with ancient runes, their light illuminating the paths as they wound downward in intricate curves.
Tharuk gestured to the nearest one. “All spirals lead to Zharakai,” he explained, his voice low. “Each… to a different part of the city. We take this path.”
Kael nodded and led the group forward. The wagons moved carefully as they began their descent, the sound of their wheels echoing in the stillness. The faint glow of the runes guided their way, casting flickering patterns on the walls and floor.
The villagers stayed close, their whispers hushed as the magnitude of the spirals set in. Occasional sounds rose from the depths—distant echoes of water or faint murmurs of unseen activity. The open expanse beyond the edges of the spiral only added to their unease.
Kael’s sharp gaze moved between the path ahead and the convoy behind. “Keep steady,” he said firmly. “We’re on the right track.”
Tharuk moved confidently at the front, his steps unwavering. The spiral curved downward endlessly, the glow of the runes growing stronger with each turn. Though the way was lit, the vast shadows beyond the spiral hinted at something immense waiting below.