The underground chamber remained eerily quiet, the only sound the occasional flickering of torches along the stone walls. The weight of ancient knowledge and forgotten histories pressed against the air, filling the space with an unspoken gravity. The siblings sat across from Gefubin, who regarded them with an expression of quiet contemplation.
"I have spent many years studying the remnants of the ancient tongue," Gefubin began, his voice steady but laced with the weariness of a lifelong pursuit. "Trying to decipher its meaning, to reconstruct even a fragment of its past."
He exhaled slowly, stepping towards a chair and sinking into it with the measured grace of a man accustomed to patience.
"When I heard that there were those who could truly understand it…" he leaned back slightly, his sharp gaze shifting between the three siblings. "I was overjoyed."
From within his scholar's jacket, he retrieved a worn leather-bound book and extended it towards Eryndor. The eldest of the trio accepted it without hesitation, his fingers brushing over the faded cover before he carefully pried it open.
"Deciphering the remnants of the ancient tongue," Gefubin continued, "is one of the most arduous endeavors in all of Yilheim."
Eryndor's keen eyes scanned the pages, his fingers trailing over the meticulously documented translations and notes. His mind processed the years of effort contained within the book, yet almost immediately, he recognized the inconsistencies—flaws in structure, misinterpretations of meaning.
Gefubin gestured toward the stone at the center of the chamber.
"This book is the culmination of my life's work. There is almost no trace of the ancient tongue left in this world. We do not even know its true name." His voice carried a hint of frustration as he turned his gaze back to the engraved monolith standing before them. "The only remnants we have are scattered across stones like that."
His expression darkened.
"It was the reason Dreados launched an attack on Ignir."
Ziraiah's expression shifted slightly, her fingers twitching as she recalled a memory.
"A man came after us while I was with Anuel," she said suddenly. "He was really powerful. Why didn't Ignir defend itself?"
Gefubin frowned, eyes narrowing. "A man?"
"Yes," Ziraiah confirmed. "He had some kind of white suit."
A sharp inhale.
Gefubin straightened in his chair, his features hardening.
"Oh… those people are called the Spellbound—Ignir's mightiest forces." His voice carried an edge of both reverence and resentment. "Ten exceptionally gifted warriors. Weapons in their own right."
Ziraiah's expression flickered with something unreadable. She exhaled, then said, "He's the one who… killed the fox guy."
A sudden shift in the air.
Gefubin's entire demeanor changed. His voice rose, uncharacteristically sharp.
"Festron."
The name cut through the chamber like the blade of a sword. Ziraiah flinched, taken aback by the intensity in his voice. Before she could react, Eryndor had already moved, instinctively stepping in front of her, his posture unwavering, a silent shield.
A tense silence.
Gefubin closed his eyes for a brief moment, his jaw tightening before he spoke again, this time softer, restrained.
"His name was Festron."
Ziraiah lowered her gaze, guilt settling in her chest.
"I… I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"
Gefubin lifted a hand, silencing her.
"It's fine," he said, his voice quieter now. "You did nothing wrong."
The room remained still for a moment longer before Eryndor finally returned his attention to the book in his hands.
His analytical mind sifted through the translations, examining each entry with an ever-growing awareness. He could see the dedication behind Gefubin's work, the painstaking efforts poured into every passage.
Yet, despite all that effort…
This is woefully inaccurate.
He said nothing, merely flipping another page before closing the book with a quiet thud. With deliberate movements, he pulled a chair towards the same table Gefubin was seated at and sat down, resting the book gently on the wooden surface.
Fingers interlocking before his face, he spoke, his voice carrying the weight of careful deliberation.
"And what, pray tell, do you desire from us?"
His words were chosen with precision, each syllable measured, each sentence steeped in an air of quiet authority.
Before Gefubin could answer, the chamber door burst open with a force that sent dust swirling into the air.
A woman strode inside, her presence commanding, unyielding.
"We want you to attempt to open the Beniek Ruin."
Her tone left no room for pleasantries.
She stepped forward, her movements fluid, calculating.
"Since you understand the ancient tongue," she continued, "we believe you may at least find a clue to its entrance. Best scenario? You open it."
The siblings turned their attention to her, studying the new arrival.
Valerius took a chair—a normal-sized one, though it was comically large for him. He hesitated for a brief moment before climbing onto it, adjusting himself until he was properly seated.
He folded his arms, looking up at her with a scrutinizing gaze.
"And who, exactly, are you?"
The woman smirked, arms crossed as she studied him in return.
"Jeriana. Mage."
She wore slim leather armor, practical yet well-crafted. Her stance, confident. Her tone, unwavering.
Valerius raised an eyebrow. "And what, exactly, is a Beniek Ruin?"
Jeriana simply smirked.
"Don't worry," she said. "You'll see it for yourself soon enough."
She stepped closer to the table, now towering over Valerius. From her vantage point, he looked like a baby, feet dangling slightly from the oversized chair. She tilted her head, amusement flickering in her eyes.
"You're so small," she observed. "Are you really an Elvhein? Looks like you're one of the lucky ones."
Valerius's eyes narrowed slightly.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Jeriana didn't answer immediately. Instead, she moved toward one of the massive bookshelves lining the chamber, scanning the spines of the aged tomes before selecting one.
She flipped through its pages as she returned to the table, finally stopping on a specific section. Then, without a word, she placed the open book in front of Valerius.
The images on the pages were… jarring.
Depictions of beings that resembled Elvheins, yet… not. Features blended between multiple races, limbs elongated or distorted, their eyes foreign and unsettling.
Valerius stared at the page, his brows furrowing.
"What the hell is this?" he muttered. "They look nothing like us."
Ziraiah leaned forward, curiosity overtaking her skepticism.
"Let me see."
Valerius instinctively lifted the book away from her reach.
"Wait, I'm looking."
Ziraiah narrowed her eyes, then swiftly pinched his side.
"Agh—fine!"
He lowered the book, and Ziraiah snatched it from him, setting it down on the table for all to see.
As Eryndor and Ziraiah examined the illustrations, Eryndor finally spoke, his voice composed yet questioning.
"Are you certain these are Elvheins?"
Gefubin nodded. "Yes. When an individual possesses traits from multiple races, we recognize them as an Elvhein. Your features, however, are… unusual. It is extremely rare to find Elvheins who resemble you."
The siblings exchanged glances.
Every image within the book depicted something fundamentally different from them.
Nothing looked like them.
A quiet doubt settled in their minds.
Valerius frowned. "Why are they so different from us?"
From another table, Jeriana, who had been fidgeting with a stack of books, finally spoke up.
"Well, that's because—"
A voice rang out from the hall beyond the chamber.
"Jeriana. It's time."
Jeriana exhaled, shutting the book she had taken, tucking it under her arm.
"We'll continue this later."
And with that, she turned, heading toward the exit without another word.
The siblings remained still, the weight of what they had just seen settling into their minds like a slow, creeping tide.
They were not normal.
And now, they had evidence of it.
Gefubin rose from his chair, adjusting his scholar's coat as he turned to the siblings. His sharp, calculating gaze flickered across them once more before he spoke.
"I have matters to attend to," he said evenly. "Make yourselves at home if you must."
Without waiting for a response, he strode toward the exit, his towering frame vanishing beyond the doorway as the heavy door clicked shut behind him.
The siblings remained in silence for a moment, exchanging brief glances before turning their attention back to Gefubins journal still lying open on the table.
---
The Council of the Unbound
The dimly lit room above the underground chamber was filled with an air of calculated stillness, the flickering glow of a lone lantern casting elongated shadows against the stone walls.
Seated in a disciplined circle upon the cold ground were Dreados, Anuel, Lisa, Beily, Daiel, Sumshus, Jeriana, Gefubin, Omfry, Gustein, and a handful of others. Each warrior bore the weight of countless battles, their expressions reflecting both the wisdom and scars earned through years of conflict.
Despite the serious nature of the gathering, Omfry, as expected, was the only one ignoring protocol. While the others sat with upright, disciplined postures, Omfry was sprawled lazily on his side, one arm supporting his head.
No one commented on his behavior. Not because they approved, but because none dared to challenge him.
Omfry was the only person physically capable of matching Dreados in combat—a fact that afforded him certain freedoms others could never dream of.
At the head of the circle, Dreados exhaled slowly before speaking.
"The Beniek Ruin," he began, his voice deep and commanding. "We know nothing about it."
Silence settled over the room, thick and expectant.
"Then why go?" Sumshus muttered, his arms crossed over his chest.
Dreados turned his gaze toward him. "Because the Elvheins might find a way to open it."
Lisa, who had remained quiet until now, shifted slightly. "And if they do?"
Dreados leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "Then we will be the first to step inside. It is an ancient ruin. Who knows what treasures lie in wait?"
Omfry let out a low chuckle, shifting slightly from his lounging position.
"Hah. We'll be filthy rich if this goes well."
Dreados ignored the comment, his attention shifting to Gefubin.
"You gave your journal to the eldest Elvhein?"
Gefubin nodded, his expression unreadable. "Yes. I thought it appropriate that he should have it."
"And?"
Gefubin exhaled before speaking. "They can understand the stone, but not completely. The damage has left gaps in the text, making full comprehension impossible."
A quiet murmur passed through the room.
"So, they're not as special as you thought, Dreados?" Jeriana remarked, her voice laced with skepticism.
"Or maybe they are," Beily countered, resting his chin on his fist. "Even with the damage, they can still read some of it. That's more than anyone has ever done."
Dreados leaned back, considering this for a moment before nodding.
"Regardless, we move forward with the mission."
His piercing gaze swept over the room, commanding full attention.
"I will lead the expedition."
No one objected.
Dreados's authority was absolute.
"Omfry," he continued, his tone steady. "You will come as well."
Omfry let out a low groan, stretching his arms above his head.
"Tch. Of course I am. You think I'd miss this?"
Dreados's expression remained unreadable as he continued listing names.
"Anuel, Beily, Jeriana… and the Leporid."
A deep scowl formed on Gustein's face.
His thoughts raced with irritation.
Damn it… these people keep forcing me into things. Now they want me to be their personal healer? And they're not even paying me. If I refuse, they'd kill me. What did I do to deserve this?
Gustein let out a long, suffering sigh before speaking.
"I want my freedom after this."
The entire room fell silent.
Then—
Omfry burst into laughter.
"Hah! Do you realize how valuable you are?" he grinned, his red pupils gleaming with amusement. "Who would let go of you? No, Gustus, you're sticking with us."
Gustein scowled. "My name is Gustein. And for the record, people pay a fortune to have me heal them."
Omfry grinned, pushing himself off the floor and walking toward Gustein. The towering warrior draped an arm around the smaller man's shoulders, pulling him in close.
"Look," he said smoothly, "if you stick with us, you'll never be short of money."
Gustein stiffened.
Then, Omfry lowered his head, bringing their faces to the same level. His grin widened, revealing sharp, animalistic canines, his voice dropping to a low, menacing whisper.
"But…"
He squeezed Gustein's shoulder, his pupils locked on gustein, his breath slow and deliberate.
"If you're not convinced," Omfry's voice turned dangerously quiet, "we can try a different approach."
A cold chill ran down Gustein's spine. His heartbeat quickened, his palms slick with sweat.
The room remained deathly still.
"Damn it, Omfry. Enough."
Dreados's voice cut through the tension like a blade.
Omfry grinned, releasing Gustein and stepping back. He returned to his usual lounging position, lying back on the floor as if nothing had happened.
A few chuckles rippled through the room, but Gustein remained stiff, eyes darting toward Omfry before looking away.
Dreados turned toward Daiel.
"You will be on standby."
Daiel, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke. "Roger that, boss."
Dreados nodded. "If things take a turn for the worse, you will extract us immediately. There is no telling what lies inside this ruin, and I will not risk unnecessary losses."
The weight of his words settled over the room.
Even Omfry, who usually had something to say, remained silent.
"Are there any objections?" Dreados asked, his tone making it clear that there would be no tolerance for hesitation.
None came.
"Then it's decided," Dreados said, rising to his feet. "Prepare yourselves. We leave in two days."
One by one, the Unbound rose from their seated positions, the meeting concluded.
As they began to disperse, Dreados gave a final warning.
"We are aware of the dangers ruins pose," he said. "And this is an ancient one. Prepare yourselves accordingly."
Then, he added—
"Oh, and someone should test the capabilities of those children."
Beily paused, turning his head slightly.
"Do they even have combat abilities?" he mused.
Dreados shrugged. "I don't know. The Hysors can fly. The Dragoons breath fire. Go see what the Elvheins can do."
Beily grinned, stepping toward the door.
But before he could leave—
Dreados spoke again.
"Oh, and Beily."
Beily turned, an eyebrow raised.
Dreados's gaze hardened slightly.
"Careful not to break them."
A smirk tugged at the corner of Beily's lips.
"No promises."
And with that, he stepped out, disappearing down the corridor.
To Be Continued...