The moment the seventh stone shattered, it was as if an unimaginable power was unleashed from the centre of the earth.
A force that had been imprisoned for thousands upon thousands of years, waiting for release.
Every stone in the cave trembled as though the earth itself had shifted from its orbit.
The massive marble slab split in two—right down the middle, a great fissure appeared. The sight of that marble breaking was so unbelievable that the explorers' minds refused to accept it.
The stone hadn't simply cracked—it seemed to have divided by its own will, as if an unseen hand had torn it apart.
The fissure was perfectly straight.
Its edges were smooth like a mirror, and from within came a light so bright it could not be endured by the eyes.
And from that fissure, breaking the silence of eternity, rose a voice.
At first, it was like a whisper—an ancient chant blending with the wind.
But slowly, it began to grow clearer.
A deep, unearthly voice—neither male nor female, but something that transcended all human sound.
Hearing that voice, the explorers' blood seemed to freeze.
They had never heard anything like it—it was as though a thousand voices spoke together, countless ancient beings speaking as one.
Every word carried the weight of millennia of wisdom, countless centuries of experience, and a hint of immeasurable power. The voice had a strange melody—at times enchanting, at times terrifying, at times stirring an unexplainable thirst within the heart.
Rom, Taf, Han, Nasr, Him, Son, Var Khani, Rafa Dir, and Shid—all stood motionless, silent, like statues of stone.
They could not even tell if their hearts were still beating.
They only listened to that mystical voice, which reached deep into their souls and shook the very core of their being.
It was as if the entire world had exhaled at once, releasing the breath of centuries long held in silence.
That exhalation carried wonder, fear, and the faint beckoning of a new horizon.
It felt like the distant call of a soul lost in ages past.
But slowly, the sound began to intensify, its vibration rising at an impossible speed.
It was no longer heard only by the ears—it was felt in every fibre of their bodies.
Soon, that voice turned into a powerful roar—so immense that it seemed to shake even the bones of the mountains buried deep beneath the earth.
That ancient, primeval sound awakened the very fabric of nature, echoing through the ancient rocks like the sorrowful cry of a forgotten age, sending a storm of terror and awe through the minds of all who heard it.
It was the voice of an ancient dragon named Aelthen.
He was no king, and there was no triumph in his tone.
His being was filled only with unbearable exhaustion, the scars of merciless wounds, and the shadow of endless regret that pierced his soul.
His voice spoke—
"I was once as vast as the mountains. Storms roared beneath my wings. But I never saw who those storms fell upon.
I wished to protect, yet I brought destruction. My fire burned the songs of forests whose scent I never knew.
Now I am no lord of the skies. I am but decaying flesh deep within a cave—dead by my own folly.
If anyone is listening…
Then know this—fire never asks for forgiveness.
But I am asking."
The sheer force of that voice was so overwhelming that many of the scholars who heard it seemed to lose all reason in an instant.
Several of them collapsed unconscious to the ground, as if their very life force had been drained away.
They lay there for a long time, lifeless, as though time itself had stopped for them.
And those who somehow managed to remain conscious became like living statues.
They stood frozen for hours, motionless as stone, eyes open, their gaze hollow.
Their bodies did not move, their faces showed no expression—as if that ancient voice had turned their living flesh into still, lifeless stone.
Their condition stood as a silent testimony to the terrifying, unstoppable power of that sound.
*****
Almost three days later.
Var Khani moved toward the eighth stone with all his strength, his resolve, and the last of his life force.
But this time, the situation was completely different. When his hammer struck the eighth stone, he met with an inexplicable resistance.
The stone trembled, but did not break. As if some invisible shield was protecting it.
The miraculous light in his eyes grew even fiercer.
He struck again, with more force, with more madness.
But the stone seemed unbreakable, as though its defence had only grown stronger.
He went to the ninth stone, then the tenth — but all in vain.
Each blow caused only a faint vibration in the stones, but could not shatter them.
A dreadful realisation dawned upon him.
His face, which had been filled with determination moments ago, now twisted in despair.
The divine fire in his eyes began to fade, the supernatural strength in his body started to weaken.
He realised that after breaking the first seven stones, the remaining five had grown a thousand times stronger in defence.
In that single thought lay an unbearable sorrow.
Var Khani, who moments ago had been the embodiment of unstoppable power, now stood defeated, exhausted, and broken.
His hammer slipped from his hand and clanged onto the ground, the metallic echo unbearably loud in the silence of the cave.
Blood dripped from his palms — torn open by countless strikes, yet he did not even feel the pain.
Rafa Dir and Shid overcame their fear and approached Var Khani.
They saw their brave leader now reduced to a shattered man — his face shadowed with ash-grey despair, his eyes hollow with hopelessness.
Taf spoke, his voice trembling with helplessness:
"Five stones… five sentinels still remain. Whatever has awakened is not yet fully free. This… this is only the beginning."
The black substance still floated in the air of the cave, filled with countless glowing eyes.
From the central stone, that mysterious voice still echoed — sometimes a whisper, sometimes a roar.
And the golden mark still burned, but now its light was unstable, more menacing — as if declaring that its full release was yet to come.
Rom, Taf, Han, Nasr, Him, Son, Var Khani, Rafa Dir, and Shid — all stood frozen, realising that they had encountered a force beyond human control.
Seven seals had been broken, but five still stood firm. And as long as those five seals remained, the ancient power could not be fully unleashed.
Yet what had already been released was dreadful enough.
The air in the cave still quivered with dark energy, the cracks on the walls continued to spread, and that unearthly voice still echoed — a warning, a threat, and a promise that even this partial release was enough to unbalance the world.
Thus ended that terrible expedition.
Seven ancient seals had been broken, but five still stood there — silent, unyielding, and now a thousand times stronger than before.
And deep within that cursed cavern, a half-freed ancient power waited for the day when the remaining five seals would also fall.
Afterwards, the mighty ministers of the Balan Empire sank into a strange, unfamiliar fear. The shock of that voice had shattered their arrogance and filled their hearts with an icy dread.
For the first time, they realised clearly that beneath their so-called "history" lay another — deeper, hidden — history.
And that buried truth was not a myth of time, but a living reality.
A truth that could not glorify the Empire, but instead rise as its final judgment — revealing centuries of tyranny, cruelty, and deceit.
Their proud illusions could crumble to dust in an instant beneath the weight of this forgotten history.
From then on, many archaeologists began to believe — Aelthen was no mere legend.
They said,
"Where the past runs so deep, it is not the soil that bleeds — it is time itself."
They believed the tale of Aelthen was the secret history of the world — where humankind's ancestors did not fight the dragons, but both sides were consumed in the fire of misunderstanding.
And upon burying that history, the Balan Empire built a grand lie — a lie that some, like Barzak Bhagar, still wish to shatter.
But the archaeologists did not stop.
Risking their lives, they tried to activate the black marble memory stones.
They used every form of magic, ancient and new alike, yet failed every time. They tried again. And again.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Again.