The Puppets didn't wait.
The moment Vaelrik stepped forward, they moved as one. Six of them, tall and pale, limbs clicking unnaturally as they shifted to block the path to the pit. Their eyes flickered with cold light, and the cracked crown symbol burned bright across each of their chests.
Vaelrik raised Tempest Fang, the storm-forged blade humming with power. Lightning surged along its edge, casting wild shadows on the stone walls. His eyes never left the Puppets. He didn't need to shout. His beasts knew what to do.
Skarn lunged first, claws tearing into the closest Puppet's side. The impact sent a shockwave through the chamber. Metal shrieked. The Puppet didn't scream. It simply turned, one arm whipping out in a clean arc, aiming for Skarn's throat.
Vaelrik moved faster.
Tempest Fang flashed, slicing through the Puppet's arm mid-swing. Sparks burst from the wound, but no blood followed... only pale, splintered metal and shards of crystal. The arm clattered to the ground.
Behind him, Valgrin's roar echoed off the stone. Fire surged across the floor, sweeping beneath the Puppets in a wave of heat. Two of them staggered, their limbs cracking as flame licked up their sides. Zephyrion dove from above, lightning trailing from his wings. He struck one mid-chest, the force blasting it into the wall with a deafening crash.
Forge didn't hold back. His chains snapped forward, wrapping around another Puppet's legs and pulling hard. The thing toppled, but even on the ground it clawed forward, dragging itself toward the pit, as if guarding it was all that mattered.
"They're not alive," Vaelrik muttered, eyes narrowing. "They're just built to keep us out."
Karnyx slammed into the final Puppet, driving it back. The two collided in a clash of metal and raw strength, neither yielding.
Vaelrik turned toward the pit's edge.
Amid the chaos, the Binding Pit waited.
It was wide, circular, its walls smooth and cold. Crystals pulsed along the rim, casting that same pale glow the Puppets wore. The light didn't reach the bottom. Only darkness, deep and absolute.
And from that darkness, something stirred.
A sound rose... quiet at first, like wind across stone, then sharper. Breathing. Labored, ragged, like air being forced through something broken.
Vaelrik took a slow step toward the pit. His grip tightened on the stormblade.
Behind him, the last Puppet fell, Skarn's claws tearing its chest open. The cracked crown sigil split apart, fading to ash.
Silence settled.
Except for that breath.
Vaelrik stood at the edge and looked down.
Movement flickered below. Not clear shapes... just shadows, twisting, flickering in and out of sight. Then eyes opened. Not one pair, but several, scattered along the wall. Dim, pale, and watching.
The breath grew louder. The darkness shifted.
Something was in the wall.
No. Part of the wall.
Vaelrik's breath caught.
The beast was fused into the stone, its spine jutting out in sharp ridges, each vertebra glowing faintly. Limbs stretched along the rock, half-formed, half-melted into the surface. Its head turned slightly, revealing a long jaw lined with teeth too thin, too many.
It didn't roar. It didn't lunge.
It simply watched.
Karnyx stepped beside him, silent.
"It's bound too deep," the forged beast said quietly. "They didn't just chain it. They buried it alive."
Vaelrik's voice was low. "Can it be freed?"
Karnyx didn't answer.
The beast below shifted again, one claw breaking free from the wall. It twitched, jerking upward, then slammed down with a scraping screech. A low sound followed... almost a growl, but hollow.
It was in pain.
Not madness. Not rage. Just pain.
Forge stepped forward, chains in hand. "Crown it now, or it won't last. Whatever they did… it's fading."
Vaelrik stepped to the very edge of the pit.
The beast's eyes locked on him.
He felt it then... the pull of the Vaulting. The mark on his palm burned, reacting to the presence of the bound creature below. Threads of energy surged outward, reaching toward the beast like a tether.
It wasn't dead.
Not yet.
Vaelrik raised his hand.
The Vaulting flared. Light surged from his Brand, casting the chamber in a sharp glow. The beast flinched, clawing at the wall.
Karnyx growled. "It doesn't trust you."
"Good," Vaelrik muttered. "I'm not here to control it."
He stepped off the edge.
Fell.
The air rushed past him as he dropped into the pit. The darkness closed in, swallowing the light. The beast didn't strike. It didn't move. It simply waited.
Vaelrik landed hard, feet hitting stone. He stood slowly.
Up close, the beast was larger than he had thought. Long, thin limbs curled against the wall, its spine protruding like a jagged ridge. Its face was turned away, eyes flickering.
Vaelrik approached slowly, hand still glowing.
"I'm not your enemy," he said quietly. "I don't bind. I crown. I free."
The beast didn't answer. But it didn't strike.
Vaelrik pressed his hand against the stone, just below the creature's chest.
The Vaulting responded.
Light surged.
The beast let out a sound... half breath, half growl.
Chains inside the stone shattered.
The creature pulled free.
One claw. Then another.
Its body slithered from the wall, not with grace, but desperation. The stone cracked, breaking apart. Dust filled the air.
Vaelrik didn't step back.
The beast stood before him now, tall, lean, its form rippling with shadows. Its eyes locked on his. Its breath came slow.
Then it lowered its head.
Vaelrik pressed his hand to its chest.
The Vaulting flared.
Light. Darkness. Pain.
And the crown was sealed.
The world vanished in a rush of shadow.
Vaelrik's breath caught as the Vaulting surged through him, light and darkness tearing across his vision. It wasn't clean like the other crowns had been. This was raw, chaotic, unstable. Power flooded into his arm, not like fire or lightning or stone, but like slipping into cold water, weightless and heavy all at once.
The beast's chest pressed against his palm, cold and pulsing with strange energy. Its body trembled as the last threads of its chains broke, shattering with a brittle sound that echoed through the pit.
A voice whispered through the Vaulting.
Not words. Not quite.
A name.
Nightspine.
The crown sealed.
Vaelrik staggered back as the beast's body shifted, rising to its full height. Nightspine uncurled from the wall completely now, standing free for the first time in who knew how long. Its limbs were long and lean, almost too thin, yet they moved with a slow, fluid precision. Its spine glowed faintly, each ridge along its back pulsing with pale light. Its eyes were narrow slits, gleaming faintly in the darkness.
Vaelrik's hand burned.
He looked down.
A new mark had formed across his palm, dark and jagged, like claw marks crossing the original Brand. The Vaulting pulsed again.
Edict Gained: Shadowbrand Surge
→ Phase through attacks. Shift through space. Counter with void claws.
The power seeped into him slowly, unlike the thunderstrike of Tempest Fang or the fireburst of Emberwake Spiral. This was quiet, patient. Dangerous.
Nightspine stood still, watching him.
It didn't speak. None of the beasts had, not like Forge or Karnyx. This one was silent.
Vaelrik reached out, not to touch it, but to acknowledge it.
"You're free now," he said.
Nightspine didn't move.
Then, it stepped back into the shadows, and its body shimmered.
Gone.
Not vanished. Not fled.
Just unseen.
Vaelrik felt the presence still, hovering nearby, not threatening, just… waiting.
A sound echoed above.
Claws on stone.
Vaelrik turned and leapt, catching a handhold along the cracked wall. The Vaulting thrummed within him, and his body moved easier now. Faster. Like the shadows themselves pushed him upward. He reached the edge of the pit in seconds, landing silently.
The chamber above was still.
The Puppets were gone, nothing left but shattered metal and dust. His beasts waited. Skarn paced near the edge, eyes sharp. Valgrin's breath still smoked in the air. Zephyrion circled overhead, slow and watchful. Forge stood beside Karnyx, both silent.
Vaelrik didn't speak.
Nightspine rose behind him.
The beast appeared soundlessly, half-formed from the shadows, its body rippling into sight. Skarn tensed, but Vaelrik raised a hand.
"Crowned," he said.
That was all he needed to say.
Skarn stepped back. Valgrin let out a low rumble. Even Karnyx nodded once.
Nightspine's eyes flicked across the chamber, not hostile, just wary. Then it faded again, slipping into the darkness.
Vaelrik turned to Forge.
"There's more, isn't there?"
Forge's chains tightened. "Yes."
"Pits like this?"
"Worse."
Vaelrik let out a breath.
Six beasts now stood at his side.
Seven.
And yet the world still felt broken.
He looked at his hand, the new Edict pulsing faintly beneath the skin.
Shadowbrand Surge.
He could feel it already—the shift, the drift in air around him. Like he wasn't entirely solid anymore. Like the chains that had bound Nightspine hadn't vanished completely. They had just… moved.
Karnyx stepped forward, voice low.
"You've broken two pits. They'll notice now."
"Who?" Vaelrik asked.
Karnyx's eyes darkened.
"The ones who locked us here."
Silence fell again.
Not the quiet of peace.
The quiet before something else.
Nightspine's voice echoed then, not loud, but clear enough.
"Not all chains are steel."
Vaelrik turned, but Nightspine had vanished again.
Only the pit remained.
And somewhere deeper, more waited.