"To walk forward is to leave something behind —
Ash, blood, or trust… even a piece of the mind.
The road remembers every step we take.
And sometimes, it leads us straight into fate."
---
Morning bled into the ruins with a grey light. No birdsong, no breeze, only the low groan of old stone settling into silence again. The ashes of the previous battle still lingered like a warning carved into the earth. Elira stood watch over it all, cloak fluttering gently behind her, while Jake — Ashix — stared into the dying fire.
He hadn't slept. Not really.
His mind had been a battlefield of its own, playing and replaying the strange whisper he thought he heard the night before. Marini's voice. A name. Kael. But when he looked at her now, she moved with discipline, clarity — as if she had no ghosts haunting her sleep.
Maybe I imagined it, he told himself again. Or maybe it was just the spirits echoing inside me.
Still… doubt had weight, and it was growing heavier.
Elira turned, speaking flatly. "We need to move. The Hollowborn don't travel alone. If Thorne sent them, there will be more."
Marini was already adjusting the straps of her gear. "We should cut through the Red Flats. Open terrain, fewer places for an ambush."
Elira frowned. "And nowhere to hide if they spot us."
"True," Marini replied, meeting her eyes evenly. "But there's an old tunnel beneath the Flats — used by flame-traders centuries ago. Forgotten by most. If we find it, we can cross the entire stretch unseen."
Ashix studied them both. "You're certain it's still there?"
Marini shrugged lightly. "Not certain. But I've read maps, followed dead trails. I believe it's there."
Elira exhaled. "Belief doesn't shield against death."
Jake stood, strapping his satchel. "Then let's find out."
---
They began the journey by midday. The ruins behind them vanished quickly into the smoke-haze as the landscape changed — cracked ground turned to open dust fields, with strange red ash coating every surface like a memory that refused to fade.
The Red Flats were as cursed as the old legends claimed. Nothing grew. No sound but the crunch of footsteps on dry, blood-colored dirt. Even their shadows seemed thinner, more distant beneath the crimson skies.
Elira walked slightly ahead, blades at her sides, senses sharpened. Jake kept pace beside her, feeling the low hum of the spirits beneath his skin. Marini brought up the rear, silent and composed, yet always alert — as if she was measuring every turn of the path, every shift of the light.
Hours passed without a word. The sun barely moved, trapped behind the strange red clouds above.
Eventually, they reached the jagged mouth of a canyon cutting through the center of the Flats. The walls were high and cracked, like teeth in a forgotten beast's skull.
Marini stepped forward, examining a weathered stone marker etched with flame symbols nearly worn away by time. She ran her fingers over the carvings.
"Here," she said softly. "This is it."
Elira approached warily. "You're sure?"
Marini pointed toward a pile of fallen rock. "There's a hidden stair behind that ridge. The entrance to the tunnel system should be buried beneath it."
They began clearing it together. Dust rose, coating their faces and hands. The silence between them wasn't hostile — but it wasn't friendly either.
Finally, after nearly an hour, the rocks gave way to a narrow opening — black as night, breathing stale air into the daylight.
Jake stared into the darkness. It felt cold, unnatural. Like something below was awake and waiting.
"Nothing in this land is easy," he muttered.
Elira gave him a small nod. "And nothing worth surviving ever is."
Before they entered, Marini held up a hand. "Wait. There's something else."
She reached into her satchel and pulled out a small, rune-marked charm — glowing faintly.
"It's a Flame Sigil," she explained. "Old ritual magic. If we get lost inside, this will guide us to any trace of spirit-fire nearby. The tunnel might not be empty."
Jake stared at her. "You carry spirit tools?"
Marini's expression didn't change. "I've been hunting Kael longer than you've known his name. I've had to learn a few tricks."
Elira's lips tightened, but she said nothing.
The three of them entered the darkness, the stone swallowing the last of the red light behind them.
---
Inside the tunnel, the air was thick — almost choking. Their footsteps echoed off ancient walls lined with crumbled mosaics, and broken sconces where old fire once lived. Every now and then, Jake caught glimpses of the old world — names and prayers in forgotten tongues. This place had been sacred once.
"Keep close," Marini said. "These halls can shift. They weren't made for the living."
Elira moved with silent grace, weapons drawn, eyes flicking to every corner.
Jake, walking between them, could feel the spirits stirring inside his chest again. Not speaking — just listening. Watching.
After a long while, they paused to rest in a wider chamber. There were stone benches, broken pillars, and a collapsed statue of a woman holding fire in both hands.
Jake looked to Elira, then to Marini. "This place feels like a tomb."
Marini nodded. "It is. For many things. Faith. History. Betrayal."
The word lingered in the air too long.
Elira stood and walked a few paces away, pretending to scout the next passage.
Jake leaned slightly toward Marini, lowering his voice. "That sigil… where did you really get it?"
Marini gave a small, unreadable smile. "From someone who trusted me once. He didn't live long enough to regret it."
Jake blinked. She turned away before he could reply.
He didn't know if it was a joke. Or a truth wearing a clever mask.
---
Far above them, in the open air, the ash swirled unnaturally — curling into spiral shapes. A raven cawed and flew off eastward. And far beyond the Flats, where shadows walk without feet, Kael Thorne felt the shift.
> "The tunnel breathes again," he whispered to the void.
TO BE CONTINUED