Chapter 9
*Nightfall draped the jagged cliffs in shadow, and beneath its shroud, two figures moved silently along the ravine's edge.*
The Hollow Spire loomed ahead — a towering structure of blackened stone, half-consumed by the cliffside itself. No visible guards patrolled the surface, but Draziel could feel it — the wards pulsing like a heartbeat through the air, ancient and watchful.
He crouched behind a twisted ridge, eyes scanning the structure. "The front is suicide," he muttered.
Sylas knelt beside him, wincing slightly from his healing wound. "Back tunnel. Old smuggler's route — half-collapsed, but it'll get us inside the lower levels."
Draziel nodded. He adjusted the cloak over his armor, the mark of his Dominion flaring briefly across his collarbone — a reminder of the power simmering beneath his skin.
They moved.
Every step down the winding path felt heavier. The closer they got, the thicker the air grew — laced with something *unnatural.* Essence magic. Distorted. Poisoned.
At the tunnel's mouth, Sylas lit a dim crystal and they entered, blades drawn. The walls were damp and cracked, bearing old bloodstains and arcane burn marks. Somewhere far above, faint voices echoed. Chanting.
As they reached a lower junction, Draziel paused, hand against the stone.
"She's close," he said. "Below… and in pain."
Sylas gave him a quick glance. "You sure?"
"I can feel her Dominion. They've been trying to tear it from her."
He didn't wait for confirmation.
They descended further — until a flicker of movement halted them.
A Warden beast.
Thick-skinned, four-limbed, its maw curled with barbed tongues. The creature lumbered in the hallway ahead, chained to the walls but very much awake.
Sylas whispered, "If we make a sound—"
Draziel was already moving.
With a fluid gesture, he raised his hand, Dominion flaring in his veins. *Not fire this time… not rage.*
*Stillness.*
He touched the floor — the shadows around the beast thickened, coiling around its eyes like a blindfold. Its breath slowed… and it slumped silently to the ground.
Sylas blinked. "That's new."
Draziel didn't answer. He was already walking.
Through one last iron gate, through a corridor lined with containment sigils — and there, chained inside a cracked chamber, Rynn knelt. Pale. Breathing. Alive.
Her head rose slowly.
"...Took you long enough."
A ghost of a smile touched Draziel's lips.
But behind them — the floor rumbled.
They weren't alone.
---
The floor shook again — not from footsteps, but from *something below.*
Rynn flinched, instinctively pressing her palm to a bruised rib. "They know you're here."
Draziel stepped into the cell, his eyes scanning the arcane bindings etched into the floor. "We're leaving. Now."
Sylas slipped in behind him, already unpacking a small etched dagger and essence-breaker vial. "I can dismantle the outer seal. But the core rune—"
"I'll handle it," Draziel cut in, his voice low and tight.
He knelt at the edge of the sigil — his fingers hovering just above the glow. This was a Dominion seal. Old. Painfully intricate. Rynn's aura was buried beneath it, barely pulsing.
He exhaled slowly.
*"Veins of flame… silence now."*
The Dominion within him surged — not as an explosion, but as a *precision burn*. Each line of the sigil responded, flickering like dying embers before crumbling into ash.
The bindings snapped.
Rynn gasped, her power slamming back into her chest like a rushing tide. Her vision blurred, but Sylas caught her before she fell. "Easy."
"No time," she breathed, gripping his arm. "The Warden in the lower pit — they've unleashed it."
From the corridor, a low *growl* echoed. The walls trembled, dust raining from the ceiling.
Draziel turned, expression hardening. "Sylas. Take her and move. I'll hold it back."
Rynn snapped up. "No—!"
"I won't let them take you again."
Before she could argue, the far wall *exploded*. A monstrous shape barreled through the debris — *a Greater Warden*, twice the size of the earlier beast, chained spines dragging behind it like whips. Eyes glowing with corrupted Dominion.
Draziel stepped forward.
The room darkened as his aura expanded — heat curling the stone, fire humming beneath his skin. He held up one hand, calling the flames, but this time… something *else* answered too.
A second layer — colder, sharper. A sliver of his *true* essence. The ancient part.
The Warden lunged.
*The ground shattered.*
Flames erupted in a controlled arc, wrapping around the monster's body — not to kill, but to *bind*. Draziel moved with surgical precision, dodging its strikes, every motion a blur of intent and rage.
"Go!" he shouted.
Sylas didn't hesitate. He pulled Rynn through a side passage, just as the Warden's claw smashed into the wall where they'd stood.
From the hall, Rynn's voice echoed faintly. "Draziel—!"
But he was focused.
This wasn't about survival. It was *retribution*.
With a final motion, Draziel's palm slammed into the beast's chest. A surge of Dominion ignited inside the Warden — and with a cry that shook the entire Spire, the creature collapsed, burning from the inside out.
He stood over it, breathing hard.
Silence.
Then, footsteps. Sylas had returned.
"Nice of you to come back," Draziel muttered.
Sylas raised a brow. "I wasn't leaving you behind. Not yet."
The Warden's corpse hadn't even cooled when the *Veilcasters* descended.
Cloaked in blackened essence, their armor woven from shadows and bones, they emerged like phantoms from the upper walkway — *six of them*, their faces hidden beneath blank masks. Each carried a Dominion signature twisted beyond recognition.
Rynn's eyes widened. "High Enforcers…"
Sylas muttered a curse. "Too fast. We missed something."
One of them raised a hand, and the entire corridor *sealed* behind them with a shimmer of arcane force. They weren't here to stall — they were here to *end* it.
The leader stepped forward, his voice a low echo. "Draziel Vale. The one cursed beyond death. We expected you'd crawl back from the grave… but not so soon."
Draziel said nothing. His hands curled into fists, flames already leaking between his fingers.
"We were told you had power," the Veilcaster continued. "But power without *control*... is just noise."
He raised his palm — a lance of black energy fired toward Rynn.
*It never reached her.*
Draziel moved in a flash, essence igniting in a twin flare of crimson and white. The blast collided with his shield, exploding like thunder. The force sent cracks down the walls, dust and stone falling from the ceiling.
Then — chaos.
Sylas darted forward, blades drawn, weaving through sigils laid along the floor, setting off delayed traps and forcing the Veilcasters to split.
One Veilcaster fell immediately, caught in a blast of redirected fire that Draziel twisted mid-air — his control now far more refined, his motion fluid and deliberate.
Rynn ducked behind a pillar, hands trembling — not in fear, but with *build-up*. She whispered a chant, and a glowing sigil formed beneath her — healing and *repulsion* layered into one. When a Veilcaster came too close, her sigil *shattered*, releasing a shockwave that hurled the enemy into the wall with a sickening crunch.
Sylas grinned. "Told you she had bite."
Two more Veilcasters advanced on Draziel. One summoned chains of black essence, latching them around Draziel's arms, trying to pull him apart.
Draziel's eyes flashed.
*"Burn."*
The chains melted — the heat not just physical, but spiritual. Essence turned against itself, devouring the magic holding him.
He stepped forward, slow and grim.
"You think I came back weak?" His voice was a growl. "I came back *remembering* everything."
He launched forward, his palm crashing into the nearest caster's chest — a pulse of Dominion rupturing their core from the inside. They dropped like a puppet with strings cut.
Only two remained.
The leader sneered. "You are not the only one reborn."
He threw off his cloak — his body *inhuman*, patched with shifting runes and veins of living crystal. Dominion and corrupted essence bound into one.
He lunged — fast.
The collision shook the entire chamber as he slammed into Draziel, driving him back. Sylas moved to assist, but the last Veilcaster intercepted.
"Go!" Rynn shouted. "I'll shield the way!"
With a cry, she flung her hands forward — *light* burst down the hallway, searing through the spell-seal.
Draziel's eyes flickered as the corrupted commander raised a blade of obsidian energy.
And he smiled.
"I'm not afraid of death anymore."
He caught the blade — with his bare hand — and *shattered it.*
Then, with a roar that cracked stone, he released his full Dominion for the first time — fire and darkness, all woven into one.
The commander burned in place.
Sylas grabbed Rynn, yanking her toward the exit. "Now!"
Draziel emerged seconds later, breathing hard, his cloak half-burned, eyes glowing faintly from the strain.
They didn't speak.
Together, they ran.
The Hollow Spire crumbled behind them — smoke trailing into the night sky as alarms rang louder and louder.
But for now… they were *free*.
---
Smoke and ash still clung faintly to Draziel's cloak as he stood atop the ridge, staring back at the path they'd carved through the Veilcasters. The battle had left its mark — not just on the landscape, but in the wary silence that had fallen between the trio. The scent of scorched earth mixed with the cool bite of morning air.
They had escaped. Barely.
Ryann leaned against a fallen tree, her breathing finally steady, while Sylas rested nearby, sharpening his blade with absent focus. No words were needed — for now, they were alive. That was enough.
*A rare calm settled over them*, fragile but real. Birds chirped overhead. The forest seemed untouched, unaware of the chaos that had just unfolded miles behind.
Draziel closed his eyes. The war within still brewed — the scars of his past, the burden of power. But for the first time in days, he felt… still.
*But peace never lingered.*
Elsewhere, deep within a darkened hall lit by cold lanterns and shimmering glyphs, *a sealed scroll changed hands*.
"She'll get it done," the hooded figure murmured.
Another voice hissed through the shadows. "And if she doesn't?"
"She always does."