The scent of rain still lingered in the morning air—heavy, as if the sky regretted what it had poured down.Inside one of the palace rooms, Luin sat at the table, his fingers tapping the wood slowly while his mind refused to rest.He felt something shifting… not in the palace, nor within his body, but in the earth itself.As though the root stretching beneath the city had begun to stir—breathing.
The door opened quietly.Celin entered, carrying a small box draped in gray cloth.She didn't meet his eyes at first; her steps carried a tension he wasn't used to seeing in her.She placed the box on the table and said in a low voice:
"I found one of them."
Luin slowly raised his head, while William turned from the window.
"One of them? One of the seals?"Celin nodded, pulling the cloth aside.Beneath it lay a small stone piece, black with a bluish hue, carved with a symbol resembling an inverted eye.Tiny cracks spread across its surface like shattered glass.
"This seal was supposed to remain in the western noble crypt, under my family's protection," she said."But it's not the same anymore. The energy that once slept inside has started to leak… like an old wound reopening."
Luin stepped closer, eyes fixed on the shard.When his fingers neared it, a faint sting pulsed in his palm.
"Is this… one of the seals used to bind the entity?" he asked softly."Yes," Celin replied. "There are seven like it, each tied to one of the entity's roots. The Church divided them among noble houses to keep the balance. But if this one's breaking…"
William crossed his arms.
"Then someone's started tampering with the seals."
Silence settled thick in the room.Luin could hear his own heartbeat—or perhaps it wasn't only his.There was another rhythm, slow and deep, rising from beneath the ground.It felt as though the palace itself was breathing.
"The entity is stirring," he said sharply.
Celin looked up. His face had gone pale, but his eyes gleamed with an unsettling light.
"We can't wait," she said. "If one seal's weakening, the rest will follow. We need to check them before they do.""You mean the followers of the entity?" William asked."Yes," she nodded. "The ones who call themselves Children of the Root. I've heard whispers—they're moving in the ruins near the old city."William scoffed bitterly."The Church always knew about them. They just let them rot in the dark. Now that the root's pulsing again, they'll crawl back toward the light."
Luin said nothing, but inside him, something stirred in answer to that unseen rhythm.It wasn't a call to fight—it was a call to understand.As if a part of him had heard those voices before.
They left the palace by noon. The streets glistened with the remnants of rain.Celin's carriage waited by the iron gate.On the road to the western crypt, they passed a marketplace unlike those of commoners—a long street lined with shining shops that sold rare stones, fine fabrics, and old books sealed in wax.
While Celin spoke with a merchant, William stood beside Luin, watching the crowd.
"You think the nobles feel nothing?" William asked quietly. "That danger won't touch them?""No," Luin said, shaking his head. "They just don't want to believe. The pulse is beneath their feet, but they refuse to hear it."William gave a faint smirk."Maybe because they're the ones who buried it there."He glanced toward Celin."At least she's trying to do something."
Luin looked at her from a distance—her face calm but shadowed by a quiet worry as she spoke to an old man.Then the ground quivered faintly beneath his feet.It was barely a tremor, but his body caught it like a whisper in his blood.He looked up just in time to see a flock of ravens burst from the rooftops, circling the distant church tower.
"It's getting closer," he murmured.
They reached the crypt by sunset.The place lay on the city's edge, behind remnants of an old wall overgrown with vines.The iron gate was rusted, the air cold and damp.
"The next seal should be here," Celin said, clutching the box."This tomb was for nobles who once served the Church."
William took the lead, lighting a lamp from his pack.The stone stairs descending below seemed to swallow the light itself.Their footsteps echoed heavily as they went down.The deeper they descended, the thicker the air became—like walking inside the lungs of a giant that breathed slowly in its sleep.
At the bottom, the passage opened into a wide chamber.Symbols faintly etched into the walls glimmered in the lamplight—similar to those on the stone, but warped.
"This is it," Celin said. "The seal should have been here."
They approached the central platform—and froze.The stone piece that should have rested in its center was gone.In its place, lines of dried blood formed intertwined circles.
"They got here first," William muttered tensely.Celin knelt, picking up a pinch of black ash."This incense… it's theirs. The kind the Root cult uses in their rites."
A soft sound came from behind them—gravel shifting under a footstep.Luin turned sharply.In the darkness near the entrance, figures moved—men cloaked in gray, faces hidden by bone masks, holding torches that glowed faint blue.
"You're too late," one said, voice hoarse. "You who cling to the light."
William moved swiftly, drawing his dagger.Celin lifted her hand; symbols flared dimly on her wrist.Luin, for a moment, stood frozen.
He could hear the whisper again—Not from the men.From the earth.From the root itself.A deep voice, resonant and quiet:
"Let them be. They do not worship me… they listen."
His body shuddered—and then moved before he could think.He caught an attacker's arm, slammed him to the ground, turned toward another lunging for Celin.William intercepted the blow, blades sparking, light flashing across their faces—for an instant, Luin's eyes looked darker than the shadows around them.
"Luin!" Celin shouted. "The runes—don't let them touch the wall!"
He turned.One of the cultists was reaching out, bloodied fingers stretching toward the carvings.Luin lunged, tackling him into the wall.But the moment his palm struck the stone, heat surged up his arm—and the old symbols ignited crimson red.A low pulse filled the chamber like a heartbeat.
"It's… it's responding!" Celin gasped.
The ground split open at the corner, releasing a sharp metallic scent—blood and soil.The cultists stepped back, chanting in elation.Their leader cried:
"We have heard the call! The root awakens!"
Luin felt something within him answering that same rhythm.But he fought it.He remembered William's words:
"The entity doesn't want you dead—it wants you to forget who you are."
He drove his hand into the floor.The pulse broke. The red light flickered out.The runes turned to dust.
"The seal's closed—temporarily!" Celin shouted.
The cultists retreated into the shadows, their leader's voice echoing faintly as he vanished:
"You can't stop the pulse… it's already within you."
They left the crypt after the tremors subsided, though the air still felt heavy, unfinished.William stared at his trembling hands.
"That was just a minor rite. If one seal's this fragile, the others won't hold.""All we did tonight," Celin said hoarsely, "was postpone the inevitable."
Luin said nothing.He looked down at his palm—faint red lines had appeared there, like thin roots pulsing under the skin, fading when he blinked.He raised his eyes to the gray sky.
"The pulse hasn't stopped," he murmured. "It's only waiting."
By the time they returned to the palace, dusk had deepened to a cold gray.The wind carried with it a distant sound—like a moan from underground.
Celin entered first, her steps brisk, almost as if she were fleeing her thoughts.William followed, wary, eyes scanning the halls.Luin sat by the hearth, tossing his coat aside, staring at the flames.Even the fire seemed to breathe with the entity's rhythm.
"If this continues," William said, opening a window for air,"the Church will notice. You can't unseal power this deep without them sensing it.""Let them notice," Celin replied, bitterness laced with defiance."My family still holds power in the Church's council. They won't dare move openly against us."
She turned toward Luin.
"But we don't have much time. We have to find the third seal—before they do."
Luin lifted his gaze to her, his voice quiet, distant.
"The entity doesn't need to seek the seals," he said. "They're already seeking it."
Silence fell.Even the fire dimmed, as if listening.
Then—a knock at the door.
Celin froze. The three exchanged glances.William approached carefully, hand on the handle, and opened it.
A man stood outside, cloaked in white embroidered with golden sigils—the marks of the White Church.His face was half-hidden, his eyes glowing faintly.
"The Church requests your presence," he said calmly, his tone carrying a weight that allowed no refusal.
Celin held his gaze, but the air inside the palace had grown heavier—and the deep pulse stirred again, far below.
Luin met the man's eyes—and in that instant, he heard the voice once more, deeper than ever before:
"The next seal… will open in the light."
The fire in the hearth went out by itself.
(To be continued…)