They ran before sunrise.
The pit was still in chaos from Overseer Dren's disappearance. No one dared speak his name aloud, but the fear was thick — like the very walls were listening. Worm knew the window was small. The moment the guards recovered from their fear, they'd lock the mine down for good.
So he took Sunny and ran.
Sunny didn't ask questions, didn't beg for answers. He saw the shadows ripple around Worm like a living cloak and said only, "Lead the way."
They slipped past guards by blending into the night — Worm cloaked in darkness, Sunny moving with uncanny stillness. By the time the sun crested the mountains, the mine was far behind them.
But Worm didn't head for a town, or the roads, or even the forest.
He followed the whispers.
The shadowbrand on his chest pulsed, guiding him to a broken ridge beneath the peaks. There, half-buried in ash and time, was a ruin — ancient stone carved with runes too old for memory. At its center was a circular door sealed by chains of obsidian.
Sunny stared. "What is this place?"
Worm stepped forward. The brand on his chest began to glow faintly. The chains trembled, then shattered, dissolving into smoke.
The door opened.
Inside was darkness. Not absence of light — living darkness. It slithered around the edges like it knew him.
The air was cold. Heavy.
They stepped into the Whispering Vault.
Carvings lined the walls — murals of ancient battles, of gods wreathed in flame and shadow. At the far end stood a pedestal, and upon it, a blade made of black glass and writhing smoke.
Worm heard the voice again, echoing from the void.
"The first of seven. Claim it, Shadowbrand. And remember who you are becoming."
He reached out. The blade pulsed.
The moment his fingers touched the hilt, a surge of shadow magic roared through him. Visions flashed — war, betrayal, gods dying beneath skies of fire.
And a name.
His true name, whispered like a secret:
Umbra.
He staggered back, gasping.
Sunny caught him. "What happened?"
Worm looked up, his eyes black as void. In his hand, the blade pulsed with hunger.
"I remember," he whispered. "I wasn't born a slave. I was buried."