Dawn came as a soft silver ribbon across the valley. Aiden woke to the smell of wet moss and Lyra's quiet movements beside the dying campfire. Eira knelt by the creek, sleeves rolled up, washing the last of their herbs. For a moment, it almost felt peaceful, until he remembered that every sunrise meant another day of being hunted.
They had followed an old trade road eastward for three days, guided by fragments of a map Lyra had copied from the temple archives. The parchment spoke of a sunken city where the first plague of men had begun, a place now called the Ruins of the Old World. According to legend, it was sealed when the goddess turned her face away from humankind.
"Once we reach the marsh line, we'll see the spires," Lyra said, tightening her cloak. "The records claim the orb's creator lived there."
"And that's where we might learn how to make another one," Aiden finished, standing. His voice cracked from sleep. "Or at least find out why it shattered."
Eira smiled faintly. "Careful what you wish for. The ruins aren't kind to trespassers."
They broke camp, their boots squelching in the mud. The forest thinned into wetlands dotted with half-buried stone pillars. Aiden noticed how vines wound through cracked carvings, faces of men and women side by side, worn to ghosts by time. The sight sent a chill through him. This world really had known balance once.
Lyra walked ahead, her staff glowing softly with ward-light. "These pillars mark the outer sanctum. We'll be crossing into forbidden ground soon."
"Forbidden by who?" Aiden asked.
"By fear," she said simply.
Aiden had no argument for that. The air thickened, humming with old magic that made the hairs on his arms rise. Eira glanced back at him. "You feel it too?"
"Like static before a storm."
They reached a ridge overlooking a vast depression where a city once stood. Broken towers jutted out of the mire like the ribs of a colossal beast. Water glimmered in the hollows; strange lights moved beneath the surface. Aiden crouched beside the slope. "How do we get down there?"
Lyra's smile was grim. "We climb."
The descent took hours. They tied ropes around rusted beams and crept down crumbling stairs that spiraled into shadow. When they finally reached the valley floor, the air smelled of iron and salt. The ground was soft, breathing faintly underfoot, as if the ruins themselves lived.
Aiden tried not to look too long at the murals half-buried in the walls. They showed men kneeling beside women, both pouring energy into a glowing sphere, the same design as the broken orb that had brought him here. But near the end of the sequence, the men faded into smoke while the women turned their faces away.
"Looks like a history lesson," he murmured.
Lyra traced a finger over one figure. "The Great Severing. The moment mana divided itself. When men's essence was drawn into the first orb. It gave the world a century of peace before… this."
Eira's expression hardened. "And now the orb is gone, and balance with it."
Aiden stared at his own reflection in the flooded floor. "Then why me? Why now?"
"Because the world remembers," Lyra said softly. "It called for what it lost."
They reached a domed chamber half swallowed by water. At its center stood an altar of black glass, covered in runes that pulsed like dying embers. Lyra whispered a phrase; light flared across the surface, revealing a circular depression exactly the size of the shattered orb's core.
"It's a conduit," she breathed. "If we could power it, it might show us how the orb worked."
"Power it with what?" Aiden asked.
Lyra hesitated. "Mana… or life. They're almost the same thing."
Eira touched the edge of the altar, then looked at Aiden. "You're overflowing with the first and made of the second."
Aiden stepped back. "You mean me? No way."
But the runes brightened the moment his shadow crossed them. A low vibration filled the room, deep as a heartbeat. The glow climbed the walls, awakening symbols that hadn't shone in centuries. Lyra gasped. "It's reacting to you!"
The light condensed into a hovering sphere of mist. Inside, they saw flashes, an ancient city alive with both genders, laughter echoing through its streets, then screams as a storm of light tore the sky apart. A woman's voice cried out: To preserve life, half must be taken. The vision collapsed into darkness.
Aiden stumbled back, panting. "What was that?"
"Memory," Lyra whispered. "The ritual that ended the age of men."
Eira steadied him. "And perhaps the key to undoing it."
A distant crash broke the silence. Aiden drew the knife Lyra had given him, though it felt pitifully small. The echo came again, metal on stone, the cadence of armored boots. Lyra extinguished her staff light. "Hide!"
They slipped behind a collapsed column just as torchlight flickered through the entrance. Voices, female, disciplined, and far too close.
"Fan out," commanded one. "The Seer said they headed east. If the Progenitor's here, we take him alive."
Aiden's stomach twisted. Seren Dahl. He recognized the clipped authority in her tone.
Eira pressed a finger to her lips. The search party spread through the hall, light slicing through the dark. One guard passed so near that Aiden could smell the leather of her armor. He held his breath until his chest burned.
Lyra mouthed a spell, barely audible, a mirage shimmered across them, bending the air like heat haze. The guards walked right past, unaware. After a tense minute, Seren's voice echoed again. "Nothing. Move to the next sector."
When the last torchlight faded, Aiden sagged against the stone. "That was too close."
Lyra's hands trembled as she lowered her staff. "She won't give up. Not while the prophecy remains."
Eira nodded. "Then we need to move before nightfall. The marsh will hide our tracks."
Aiden looked once more at the altar, the dying runes reflecting in his eyes. "No. We came here for answers. And I think this thing still has one more to give."
He placed his palm on the glass. Light surged again, brighter than before, and a single line of script burned itself across the surface in ancient runes. Lyra translated under her breath:
> "The seed of renewal lies not in flesh, but in the unity of souls."
The glow faded, leaving only the echo of those words.
Eira exhaled. "Unity of souls. That could mean..."
"...partnership," Aiden said quietly. "Not creation by bloodline, but by bond."
Lyra's eyes widened as realization struck. "If that's true, then restoring balance doesn't require..." she blushed, glancing away ", the act they all expect of you."
Aiden gave a humorless laugh. "Then maybe I can stop being everyone's breeding tool."
For the first time since his arrival, hope flickered behind his fatigue. They gathered their things in silence and slipped back toward the marsh. Above them, the ruins sank deeper into shadow, the last glow of the altar fading beneath the rising mist.
Far away, on the ridge, Captain Seren Dahl lowered her spyglass. She had seen the flash of light, the unmistakable silhouette of a man in the ruins. "Found you," she murmured. "And this time, you won't run."