Lightning cracked across the sky as Kaen stood motionless at the peak, pendant in hand. The wind had changed. It no longer carried whispers—it carried intent. The mountain trembled beneath his feet, not from nature, but from the awakening of something old… and angry.
Kaen's grip tightened around the pendant. It pulsed, resonating with his own energy. The clarity it had given him was already starting to fray. A storm wasn't just brewing—it was arriving.
Then he felt it.
A shift in the air.
Behind him.
Kaen turned, sword already drawn.
Standing at the edge of the plateau was a woman.
Cloaked in black and silver, her long hair shimmered like moonlight soaked in blood. Her eyes were unlike anything Kaen had ever seen—entire galaxies swirling in violet irises. There was a cold, ancient beauty about her, the kind that belonged to legends carved in forbidden tomes.
"You climbed well, little ember," she said, her voice smooth and haunting. "But you've come too close to the flame."
Kaen didn't lower his sword. "Who are you?"
She stepped forward, her boots not making a sound on the stone. "Some call me The Shadow Matron. Others… have forgotten my name entirely." Her eyes narrowed. "But your blood remembers me."
Kaen's heart pounded. "You're the one… from the whispers."
She tilted her head. "No. I am the whisper."
Suddenly, the fog around the peak exploded outward, revealing the truth—this wasn't just a mountain. It was a tomb. Pillars of obsidian jutted from the ground, each carved with the same symbol Kaen saw on his map. Runes glowed with a pulsing, unnatural light.
"You stand upon the resting place of those who came before you. The ones who carried the flame you now try to wield." She lifted her hand. Shadows twisted around her fingers like serpents. "And they failed."
Kaen gritted his teeth. "Then I won't."
The Matron smirked. "We shall see."
Without warning, she unleashed a wave of dark energy. Kaen barely managed to raise a barrier—a reflex born from instinct, not mastery. The impact sent him skidding back, feet barely gripping the stone.
She moved like smoke—appearing in front of him, blade in hand. Their swords clashed with a force that echoed across the mountain. Sparks danced in the mist as Kaen parried, struck, dodged. But she was faster. Stronger. Her strikes carried the weight of centuries.
"You have potential, boy," she taunted, pushing him back. "But you fight like a child playing with fire."
Kaen growled, slamming his blade into the ground. The pendant on his chest flared—and something inside him snapped.
A surge of golden flame burst from his core, enveloping his body. His eyes burned with ancient runes. The mountain responded—its stones glowing in harmony with the power surging through him.
Kaen struck.
This time, the Shadow Matron staggered.
For the first time, her smile faltered.
"You… awakened it." Her voice was colder now.
Kaen's voice echoed with layered tones, as if more than one voice spoke through him. "I'm not just an ember anymore."
The sky split open. The seal beneath them began to crack.
And then—a roar.
From beneath the mountain.
The Matron's expression darkened. "You fool. You were never supposed to break the seal."
Kaen froze. "What?"
She stepped back, her shadows retreating. "This place wasn't just a tomb. It was a prison. And now…" She looked to the sky, her smile returning, more wicked than ever. "…now the true heir of ruin awakens."
Kaen turned to the cracked seal. The energy pulsing from it was no longer familiar—it was chaotic. Ancient. Hungry.
"Tell me, Kaen," the Matron whispered behind him, her form dissolving into mist. "Will you burn the world to find the truth? Or be consumed by the fire you've unleashed?"
Then she was gone.
Kaen stood alone.
But not for long.
The mountain groaned. The ground split.
And from beneath the seal, a hand emerged—massive, clawed, covered in obsidian armor laced with golden veins.
Something…
no, someone... was waking up.
And Kaen had just lit the fuse.
To be continued…