The forest thinned just before the ruins. Shadows stretched long and uneven, crawling up what remained of a castle half-buried in roots. Its towers leaned like broken spears against the dying light.
Elira raised the Locator. The pendant pulsed faintly—three short beats, then a glow that pointed toward the northwest tower. "There," she said, her voice low but steady.
Mira frowned. "You sure that thing's not broken? It's been flickering since we left the ridge."
"It's not broken," Elira replied. "It's calling."
Kael checked the slope behind them before stepping closer. "Whatever it's calling to, I hope it's friendlier than the last thing we met."
No one laughed. The air here was too still for that. Even the trees seemed to lean back, unwilling to breathe too loud.
They entered through a side breach where the wall had collapsed. Inside, the ground was slick with moss, and bits of glass shimmered like frozen tears. Mira lifted her hand. "Hydro Mirror." A thin film of water rose before her, showing a reflection of the corridor ahead. Empty. Quiet. Too quiet.
"Let's move," Kael murmured, drawing his blade.
They kept their formation tight—Elira at point, Mira to the rear, Kael guarding their flank. Elira opened a soft breeze around their steps. "Wind Veil." Sound fell away, leaving only the hum of their breathing.
The hall ahead opened into a courtyard. In its center stood a round stone pedestal, cracked through the middle. A faint light pulsed inside the split.
"Elira," Mira whispered, brushing dust from the stone's edge. "Look—same carving as before."
Elira knelt beside it, tracing the faint mark with her fingers. It was a letter. Not a rune, not a crest. Just a single, sharp E burned into the old surface.
Kael tilted his head. "That's on the dragon's collar too, right? The same mark."
Elira nodded slowly. "It is."
Mira looked uneasy. "Then that means… this place, or whoever built it, might be connected to whoever controlled the dragon. And Element got everything to do with it. "
Elira didn't answer. Her stomach twisted at the thought of Vaelis's voice in the dark chamber, calm and cold. Your father was easy to guide. The words still echoed when she tried to sleep.
"Maybe he lied," Mira said softly, as if reading her thoughts. "Maybe all of it was a game."
Kael shook his head. "Maybe not all. Some parts felt too sharp to be made up."
Elira's grip on the pendant tightened. "It doesn't matter right now. We find Selene first. Then we find out what's true."
They crossed the courtyard to the tower. A heavy door waited at the base—steel-gray, with veins of faint blue light running through it. The air around it buzzed like it had been waiting centuries to breathe.
"Looks sealed," Kael said, testing the frame. "Old warding. I could break it, but it'll be loud."
"I'll open it," Elira said. She placed her hand over the door, closed her eyes, and whispered, "Root Bind." Tiny vines crept into the cracks, testing the lock's pattern. Then she breathed again, "Wind Shearline." The vines burst into a thin hiss of green light, cutting the latch clean without noise.
The door groaned once and swung open. Cold air rolled out.
Inside, a narrow stair led down. The walls were slick and pulsing faintly with blue veins—the same shade as the seal.
At the bottom waited a small chamber. And there, bound by chains that glowed with shifting runes, lay a figure. Long silver hair spilled across the floor like a broken beam of light.
Mira gasped. "Selene?"
Elira rushed forward, kneeling beside the still form. "She's alive," she said, relief breaking through her chest. "Help me—break the chains!"
Kael drew his blade. "Pulse Vault!" Sparks burst from the lock. Mira followed with, "Hydro Mirror—shatter!" The glassy restraint broke like ice under a hammer. The runes flashed once and went dark.
Selene stirred. Her eyes opened—too slowly, too dark.
"Selene," Elira said, smiling weakly. "It's us. You're safe now."
For a moment, the girl's gaze drifted, unfocused. Then she blinked once, twice—her lips parted.
But the voice that came out was not hers.
It was low. Echoing. Metallic, like words spoken through stone.
"Who dares to step into my domain?"