Aria's lantern trembled in her hand, the tiny flame dancing wildly as drafts whispered through the tunnels. Each gust made shadows stretch and twist along the walls, curling like long, reaching fingers that seemed almost alive. She gripped the lantern tighter, the metal warm against her palm, but it offered little comfort.
The deeper she went, the thicker the air became — heavy, damp, clinging to her skin, carrying that faint metallic tang of rusted iron. It smelled old, like memory itself, like secrets that had slept beneath stone for centuries. Her stomach twisted. I shouldn't be down here, she thought. But I have to.
The walls were nothing like the polished corridors of the Academy. Here, the stone was raw, scarred with age, veins of moisture glinting in the lantern's flicker. Arches curved overhead, low and sweating with condensation. She ran her fingers along the crumbling mortar, dust sprinkling down like ghostly confetti. The tunnel felt alive, ancient, stretching and curling as if it had grown of its own will long before the Council existed.
Cassian's words slithered into her mind unbidden. Power is not meant to be feared. It is meant to be wielded.
She shook her head sharply, trying to push him away. No. Not now. Not here.
And yet… his voice lingered, threading through her thoughts like a ghost brushing her shoulder. She hated the sensation, but a part of her couldn't deny the subtle comfort it brought.
Step by step, she pressed forward. Each footfall was swallowed by heavy silence, but sometimes the stone beneath her heel groaned, a low, mournful protest.
At a bend, she paused, lifting the lantern higher. The floor sloped downward into rough-hewn steps, slick with water that glimmered faintly in the wavering light. Her chest tightened.
A sound reached her ears — subtle, irregular, impossible to ignore. A scrape. A shuffle.
Her heart jumped. Rats, she told herself. Just rats.
But the words felt hollow. Something about the air made her skin crawl. She could feel the weight of eyes she couldn't see. Her hair prickled.
She took a cautious step down, then another, boots slipping slightly on the wet stone. Water pooled along the uneven steps, sending tiny ripples through the dim light. Every descent pulled her deeper into the unknown, the shadows curling around her like dark fingers trying to snuff out her lantern.
The steps ended abruptly, opening into a chamber.
It was wide, circular, the ceiling lost in darkness. The air was cold and thick, carrying the scent of damp stone—and something else, something indefinable, that made her stomach knot tighter.
Iron bars loomed ahead, immense and rusted, chains dangling like broken limbs. Her lantern cast shaky light across the far wall, illuminating the edges, but the darkness behind seemed endless, pressing in with a weight that was almost tangible.
She swallowed, hand tightening on the lantern. The cold iron vibrated faintly beneath her touch, a subtle thrumming that seemed alive.
A whisper grazed her ears. Soft. Fragile.
…Aria…
Her heart leapt, a sudden jolt that made her stumble forward. The lantern shook violently.
"Vale?" she whispered, voice cracking with hope and fear tangled together.
The darkness swallowed her words. Thick. Suffocating. It waited. Pressed. Tested.
She drew a slow, deliberate breath, moving her hand along the cold bars. The metal was slick with moisture, pulsing faintly under her fingers like it was aware of her presence.
"Vale," she murmured again, softer now. Her lips barely moved. "It's me. I'm here."
The shadows shivered, almost imperceptibly, curling in the darkness as if they were conscious. Her lantern flickered violently, casting long, wavering shapes across the walls. Aria froze, every nerve straining.
Another whisper followed, low and fractured, almost torn:
…Aria…
It sounded like Vale, yet it wasn't. Hollow. Stretched thin. Filtered through some dark veil she couldn't pierce.
Beneath it, another voice curled around the words — slow, heavy, patient, a serpent threading its way through the syllables.
…She comes closer… she dares…
Aria's fingers tightened on the lantern handle, biting into her skin. Fear battled against resolve inside her chest, but she refused to step back.
At last, the steps opened into a chamber so vast that her lantern barely touched the edges of the darkness. Wide. Circular. The ceiling lost in shadow. The air was cold and thick, clinging to her lungs, carrying the scent of damp stone and something else she could not name—something heavy, alive, and old.
Iron bars loomed ahead, massive and rusted. Chains hung from the frame like the fingers of a sleeping giant. Her lantern cast trembling light across the wall, but the darkness beyond seemed endless, pressing in, waiting, patient. She swallowed, heart hammering, and moved closer.
Her hand reached for the cold iron, the metal slick with moisture. It vibrated faintly under her fingers, a low thrumming that sent shivers up her arm. Something was there. Watching. Waiting.
Then it whispered.
…Aria…
Her breath caught. It was soft, fragile, almost as if the word could shatter like glass.
Her lantern wavered violently, her palm gripping it until the warmth pressed into her skin.
"Vale?" Her voice trembled with a mixture of hope and terror.
Silence answered, thick and suffocating. The darkness pressed against her senses, testing her, weighing her courage. She forced herself to draw a slow, steady breath.
"I'm here. I'm not leaving you."
The bars vibrated faintly, responding—or perhaps sensing—the conviction in her words. Then another whisper followed, fractured, low, almost torn:
…Aria… don't…
…Closer… let her closer…
It sounded like Vale. Hollowed. Stretched. And yet, beneath it, another presence coiled around the words—slow, patient, malevolent.
Aria's chest tightened. She pressed forward, lantern held higher, glove sliding over cold, wet iron. Every instinct screamed to flee, yet something inside her rooted her in place.
Her fingers itched along the iron, feeling a subtle pulse through the metal, a rhythm that matched the pounding of her heart. The whispers came again, closer, threading through the chamber like smoke curling around her thoughts:
…She dares…
…She feels it…
…She is strong…
The lantern flickered, throwing wild shadows that danced across the walls. Aria's knees trembled. The eyes—pale, unblinking, shards of ice submerged in darkness—appeared. Not human. Not Vale's. They glimmered with intelligence, cold and calculating, and in them she saw the truth of what Cassian had warned: this was power. Real, immense, and dangerous.
Her breath hitched, but she did not falter. She forced herself to speak, voice steadying despite the tremor in her chest:
"You're not taking him," she whispered. Low, unwavering. "Not while I can fight. Not while I'm here."
The shadows writhed, thick and alive, curling toward her like smoke with a will of their own. Chains clanged sharply against the iron frame, sending echoes that rattled through the chamber.
Then the voices rose, overlapping, merging into something tangible, almost like a chant:
…Closer… closer… closer…
…Let her see… let her feel…
Aria pressed closer to the gate, one hand gripping the bars, the other holding the lantern high. The pulse beneath the metal thrummed stronger now, echoing through her palm, up her arm, settling like a weight in her chest. Her stomach twisted with awe and fear. This is what Cassian warned me about… she thought. This isn't just Vale. This isn't just a boy's struggle. This is… something else. Something alive.
The dual voices intertwined, seductive and threatening, malevolent and fragile all at once. The pale eyes glimmered, unblinking, measuring her. A primal part of her wanted to run, to collapse under the weight of it all—but every fiber of her being refused.
She swallowed, teeth clenched.
"I'm here, Vale," she whispered, voice trembling yet firm. "I'm not leaving you. Not now. Not ever."
The shadows shifted, subtly, like a tide of darkness pressing against the bars, humming faintly as though alive. The dual voices murmured again, weaving through the chamber:
…She is strong…
…She will not yield…
Aria's mind raced, heart hammering. This was no curse. No boy's burden. This was power. Vast. Ancient. Watching her, and now she had noticed it.
The lantern flickered once more, thread-thin, revealing only glimpses of the endless chamber. The ice-like gaze of the eyes locked onto her, filled with intent, awareness, and something terrifyingly alive.
Her breath hitched, yet she did not flinch. Her resolve hardened, fingers tightening around the bars, lantern shaking slightly but refusing to go out.
[Cassian's warning echoed through her memory: Power is not meant to be feared. It is meant to be wielded. Respect it, understand it, but never underestimate it.]
And now she understood.
This was no idle caution. This was truth. The vast, terrible, living truth of the tunnels, the gate, the presence beyond.
And she was right there, daring it, standing against the darkness.
The chamber felt alive. The pulse beneath the gate thrummed stronger, echoing through the stone floor, vibrating up her legs, threading into her chest. Her palms burned from gripping the cold iron, but she did not let go. The lantern quivered in her hand, casting chaotic shadows that stretched and twisted along the walls, yet the pale eyes never wavered. They followed her every movement, unblinking, cold, and utterly alive.
…She is here…
…She feels it…
…She understands…
The voices coiled together now, merging, overlapping, a single presence made of two threads, one familiar, one malevolent. Aria's teeth clenched, her heart hammering, every breath sharp with adrenaline and fear. Yet beneath that fear, there was something else—something dangerous and exhilarating.
She raised her chin, shoulders squared, chest tight with determination.
"I'm not afraid," she whispered, almost to herself. "I… I will not let you take him. Not while I stand."
The shadows convulsed, thick and restless, shifting like smoke with intent. The chains rattled, metal scraping stone in a rhythm that mirrored the pulse she could feel beneath the floor. The pale eyes flared faintly, shards of ice in the darkness, and Aria understood for the first time that they weren't just watching—they were measuring her.
…Strong…
…Determined…
…Resilient…
The dual voices wove together, now almost a single entity, wrapping around her thoughts like invisible hands, testing her resolve, teasing, coiling. Aria's grip on the gate tightened until her knuckles whitened. The lantern's light danced across the walls, throwing shadows that seemed to reach toward her, yet she did not falter.
"This ends now," she said, voice steadier, louder. "I'm not leaving. Not him. Not this. Not to you."
The pulse beneath the gate shifted, slow and deliberate, heavy with power, as though acknowledging her words. The shadows writhed in response, curling higher, thicker, alive in ways that made the air itself seem viscous.
…She is fearless…
…She will not yield…
…She can see…
Aria pressed closer, chest tight, muscles screaming from tension, but her resolve held. Every instinct screamed to run, yet she rooted herself, letting fear sharpen her senses rather than dominate them. She could feel the energy in the room, subtle at first, then building—power, raw and unbound, pressing against her mind, brushing against her soul.
Her lantern trembled, and for a fleeting second, the pale eyes seemed to lean closer, intelligent, assessing, and alive. Aria's breath hitched, yet she did not back away. She met that gaze with her own, small but fierce, a declaration in the midst of terror.
[Power is not meant to be feared. It is meant to be wielded.]
She repeated the words in her mind like a mantra, letting them fortify her trembling heart. The dual voices whispered, fading slightly, almost as if they respected the defiance burning in her.
…She dares…
…She endures…
…She is ready…
The chamber seemed to exhale, the pulse beneath the gate resonating through the floor and stone, echoing through her body. Every nerve in her skin hummed with awareness, alive to the presence, aware of the danger and the raw power coiled just beyond her reach. Yet she stood, unwavering.
"I am here. I will not leave. Not him. Not now. Not ever," she whispered, voice low, firm, every word a tether anchoring her to this moment.
The shadows pulsed once, thrummed once, as though acknowledging her words. The pale eyes lingered, fixed, intelligent, alive. The dual voices interwove once more, soft, patient, yet threaded with menace:
…She has seen…
…She has felt…
…She will not break…
Aria's chest tightened, every heartbeat loud in her ears, every breath sharp. And then, just as suddenly, the chamber fell into a pregnant silence, thick and heavy, as though the darkness itself was waiting, watching, savoring the moment.
Her lantern flickered violently one last time, casting a single thread of trembling light into the vast chamber. The pale eyes remained, unblinking, measuring, patient. The pulse beneath the gate lingered faintly, a promise of the power slumbering beyond, waiting.
Aria's heart pounded, lungs tight, hands raw from gripping the iron. But she did not step back. Not once. She was there, defiant, alive, aware.
And somewhere deep within the shadows, something enormous and ancient stirred, unseen but undeniable.
The whispers faded, leaving only the faint thrum of power beneath the stone.
And Aria understood: nothing in the tunnels below, nothing in the Academy, would ever be the same again.