Chapter 18 – Depths of the Forgotten
The Under-River was not a river of water, but of stale air, echoes, and perpetual damp. Bioluminescent fungi provided a sickly green illumination, revealing tunnels carved by ancient machinery or bored by colossal, forgotten worms. The air was thick with spores, and the repellent paste the Moss-Witch provided formed a faint, protective barrier around them.
They walked for hours, the silence broken only by the drip of condensation and the skittering of unseen things in the dark. Sukodar, fueled by his brother's energy and youthful resilience, was the first to speak.
"Brother," he whispered, his voice magnified in the tunnel. "The power inside you… is that what we all could have been?"
Skodar nodded, helping Makosra over a pile of rubble. "Vaktari says it's in our blood. Our genes just… forgot how to listen. She helped me remember."
"Can you help others remember?" Makosra asked, her voice thoughtful.
"I don't know," Skodar admitted. "But if there's a way, we must find it. We can't be the last free Vakhas."
Their journey was not unchallenged. The Under-Rivers had their own ecology. They were stalked by Pale Stalkers—sightless, multi-limbed predators that hunted by vibration. Skodar, his energy recovering, dealt with them using silent, close-quarters force, snapping their chitinous necks before they could alert others.
They crossed chasms on crumbling walkways, the darkness below yawning and bottomless. They waded through shallow, acidic streams that ate at their boots.
At one point, the tunnel branched. The Moss-Witch's map indicated the left path. But the right path hummed with a familiar energy—a faint, resonant pulse that called to Skodar's Prima Genes.
"This way," he said, deviating.
"Skodar,the map—" Makosra started.
"Trust me."
The right path sloped downward,growing warmer. It opened into a colossal, spherical cavern. In its center, partially submerged in a pool of glowing, mineral-rich water, was a colossal, crystalline structure. It was cracked and dark, but its shape was unmistakable—a giant, geometric seed.
"A World-Heart Shard," Makosra breathed in awe, recognizing it from the oldest village tales. "A piece of the core that birthed the continents. They were said to be the planet's nervous system… and batteries for the ancient people."
This one was dead, its energy long spent. But as Skodar approached, the dormant Prima Genes in his body resonated with it. He placed a hand on its cool surface.
A jolt.
Images,fragmented and ancient, flooded his mind:
A sky full of starships, not of crude metal, but of living crystal.
Vaktari's people, tall and radiant, walking alongside the native species of Arthoje in peace.
The cataclysm—a rain of black fire from the sky.
The desperate seeding of these World-Heart Shards to preserve the planet's life-force as the ancient civilization fell.
The shard had not been harvesting energy; it had been preserving it. And the "deterioration" of the Vakhas… was it a natural decay, or a genetic lock placed by their ancestors to hide them, to make them seem worthless until the time was right?
The vision ended. The shard remained dark. But a single, fist-sized crystal at its base glowed with a soft, steady light. It had been re-activated by Skodar's touch. He pried it loose. It was warm, pulsing in time with his heartbeat.
A Living Stone. Not White, Orange, Yellow, Purple, or Black. Something older. A Prima Stone.
It was a key.And a power source of an entirely different order.
He pocketed it, the weight in his pouch feeling like destiny.
"What did you see?"Sukodar asked.
"Our past," Skodar said, his voice filled with new certainty. "And a tool for our future."
They returned to the main path, the Living Stone a comforting warmth against his side. The encounter had cost them time, but it had given them something priceless: context, and a weapon.
Finally, after a day and night of travel, the tunnel began to slope upward. Fresh, cold air trickled down. They saw a pinprick of daylight ahead, filtered through a heavy grate.
They had reached the exit.
But as Skodar pushed against the grate,it didn't budge. It was locked from the outside. He channeled a surge of energy into his arms and pushed again. The metal groaned, bent, and then tore free with a shriek.
They emerged, blinking, into the clean air of the wild forest foothills. The sanctuary mountain range loomed in the distance, a purple silhouette against the dawn.
They were free of the city, free of the tunnels.
But as they took their first breath of free air,a shadow passed over the sun. They looked up.
A scout skiff, sleek and unmarked, was circling high above. It hadn't seen them yet, hidden in the tree line by the grate. But it was searching this sector systematically.
The Nexus Archon's hunt had reached the wilds.
They were out of the frying pan,but the forest was now crawling with fire.