The forest gave way to jagged stone and cracked obsidian. Umbra stared ahead, where a towering spire loomed from the heart of a ruined valley — Cinderglass. Once a kingdom of sorcerers, now just broken spires and whispers carried by wind.
"This is where the first relic is hidden," Lysara said, eyes wary. "We enter… we don't come out the same."
Sunny glanced at Umbra. "We're already not the same."
Umbra stepped forward, his shadow tendrils slithering ahead like scouts. "Good."
The trio descended the ancient stair, carved into cliffside rock blackened by dragonfire long dead. The deeper they went, the colder it grew — not just in temperature, but in spirit. Something down here had teeth, and it hadn't fed in centuries.
They passed murals carved into the walls: a tale of kings who became demons, of a relic forged from night itself. Then came the first test — a shattered bridge across a bottomless chasm, guarded by ethereal knights.
"They were bound to protect the vault," Lysara murmured. "Their souls never left."
Umbra narrowed his eyes. "Then they'll remember fear."
Instead of fighting, he formed a shadow bridge — sleek, narrow, nearly invisible — and led them across, walking the edge of his power. One wrong move, and they'd fall into darkness.
Sunny slipped once, but Umbra's shadow caught him.
"Thanks," Sunny muttered.
Umbra only said, "Don't slow me down."
Past the chasm, they entered the Vault proper — a twisting labyrinth of echoing halls and magical traps. One chamber held mirrors that reflected not light, but the past. In one, Umbra saw himself in chains again. Another showed him alone on a throne of ash.
"Don't look," Lysara warned. "They feed on regret."
Umbra stared straight through his reflection. "I don't regret anything."
Finally, they reached the heart: a sunken sanctuary of stone, where an obsidian orb floated above a dais, humming with ancient power. The relic.
Umbra approached, shadows pulsing like a heartbeat. Runes glowed on the floor — a puzzle etched in forgotten tongues.
"I can translate some," Lysara said. "But it's a riddle. Three phrases, three paths. Only one leads forward. The others… lead to death."
Umbra read the lines aloud:
> I serve but do not rule.
I vanish but leave a mark.
I am born in silence, and die in screams.
Sunny frowned. "A shadow."
Umbra stepped onto the rune bearing that symbol. The rest faded.
The orb descended.
As Umbra reached out, shadows surged, testing him. Not with pain — with memories. A life of chains. Betrayal. Anger. Ambition. Power. It asked: What do you want?
He answered: Everything they denied me.
The orb sank into his chest, leaving behind a sigil of swirling black on his skin.
The Vault shuddered — not collapsing, but opening. Somewhere deeper, another gate had been unsealed. A path only Umbra could now walk.
He turned to Sunny and Lysara.
"We have what we came for," he said, voice low. "Let's see how deep this world goes."
And as they left the ruins of Cinderglass, the first winds of a greater journey stirred.