The air grew heavier the deeper they went.
Every footstep echoed like a drumbeat against the bones of a long-dead god.
The walls shimmered faintly with veins of blue light — runes pulsing in time
with the Orb's glow, as though the entire ruin recognized Gizmo's presence
and was remembering something it had lost.
"This place feels wrong," Tibbin murmured.
"Wrong?" Gizmo said, eyes scanning the carved walls. "No. It feels alive."
Kaelira trailed her hand along the runes. "Alive isn't always better."
The tunnel opened into a circular hall, its floor engraved with spiral symbols
and ancient machinery frozen mid-motion. Gears jutted from the ground like
fossilized bones, and at the far end stood a massive door inlaid with silver
sigils.
Gizmo knelt near one of the dormant consoles. "Thalos used harmonic locks,"
he muttered. "The pattern isn't mechanical — it's musical."
"Meaning?" Tibbin asked.
"Meaning you don't open it with a key," Gizmo said, adjusting his bracer,
"you tune it."
He pressed his gloved palm to the metal. The Orb pulsed once, humming in
resonance. The door replied — faint, uncertain. Kaelira watched as Gizmo
began to hum softly, his voice carrying the same rhythm as the Orb's light. The
air thickened, vibrating.
Then, a click — a low, ancient sound of permission.
The door split open, groaning like something that hadn't been disturbed in centuries.
Inside was chaos preserved in time.
Broken automatons lay scattered, their eyes dark and bodies twisted in eternal
agony. The walls were covered in faded carvings: Shaper glyphs showing
figures hammering stars into shape, crafting life from metal and soul.
Tibbin stepped carefully between the remains. "Whatever they built down
here, it died badly."
Kaelira nodded. "Not everything that breathes deserves to."
Gizmo crouched near a shattered construct, brushing dust from its chest plate.
The craftsmanship was unlike anything he'd seen — curves and joints that
suggested emotion, not function. "They weren't soldiers," he whispered.
"They were instruments."
"Of war?" Tibbin asked.
"Of memory," Gizmo replied. "Thalos didn't just make machines. He made
echoes."
The Orb pulsed brightly in agreement, its light casting long shadows against
the walls. The ruin seemed to awaken in response — runes flickering, gears
twitching faintly, as if remembering how to move.
A low hiss filled the chamber.
Kaelira drew her sword instantly, the runes along its edge igniting blue.
"We're not alone."
From the far wall, something uncoiled — a massive serpentine shape of bronze
and crystal, its body segmented with interlocking plates, eyes burning with
molten light. It slithered across the ground with a sound like grinding glass.
Tibbin raised his crossbow. "Tell me that's decorative."
Gizmo grinned. "I think it's the welcoming committee."
The creature lunged.
Kaelira met it head-on, her sword slicing through the air in arcs of light. Sparks
flew as blade met metal. Tibbin fired bolt after bolt, each ricocheting off its
hide. Gizmo scrambled across the machinery, scanning for weaknesses.
The Orb flared violently, projecting a stream of data into the air — a vision of
the serpent's internal structure. Gears. Runes. Power core.
"There!" Gizmo shouted. "Behind the third plate!"
Kaelira pivoted, slicing through one of the serpent's jointed segments. Tibbin
dove forward, jamming an explosive bolt into the gap. Gizmo raised his bracer
and funneled the Orb's energy into the exposed core.
"Now!"
The blast shook the hall. Metal screamed. The serpent convulsed once, then
shattered — shards of bronze raining down like dying stars.
When the dust cleared, Kaelira leaned against a pillar, catching her breath.
"I'm starting to hate your hobbies," she muttered.
Tibbin retrieved his smoking crossbow. "I'm starting to love them."
Gizmo crouched near the serpent's remains, staring at the glowing fragment
still pulsing faintly in its chest. He reached out. The Orb drifted forward,
touching the fragment gently — and for a moment, the world flickered.
He saw a vision — Thalos standing before a forge of light, his face lined with
exhaustion. Behind him, constructs kneeled like disciples. His voice echoed
faintly:
"If machines remember, then so will we. Even if the gods forget."
Then it was gone.
Gizmo exhaled slowly, trembling. The Orb dimmed, as though mourning.
"What did you see?" Kaelira asked quietly.
He looked at her, voice low. "A promise."
They looted what they could — rune shards, fragments of energy cells, and
Thalos's markings etched into a wall plaque that Gizmo carefully removed. He
studied the inscription later by firelight:
When the forge forgets, find the heart that remembers.
It beats below the breathless vault.
He repeated it under his breath, letting the words settle into his bones.
"The Breathless Vault," Kaelira said. "That's where we're going."
"And what's in it?" Tibbin asked.
Gizmo stared into the fire, the Orb hovering at his side. "Answers."
(End of Chapter Eight)