The village hadn't seen sunlight in three days.
Ash clung to rooftops like moss. Even the wind moved quieter now, heavy with some unseen weight. Those who hadn't fled stayed behind shuttered windows, whispering of signs and strangers, afraid to speak too loudly.
Marcel stood alone in the old wellhouse behind the barn.
He didn't know why his feet brought him here—only that the shard in his palm burned hotter the closer he came. The well had been dry for years. A ring of cracked stones, a few rusted pulleys, nothing more.
Until now.
The system flickered to life without warning.
> [Pulse Resonance: Relic Node Detected Beneath Surface]
[Warning: Unmapped Chamber — Sealed by Bloodline Bindings]
Marcel knelt by the edge of the well.
There—barely visible in the light—runes. Etched into the inner wall, hidden by soot and decay. Not in any hunter's language. Not modern. This script was old. Older than the Domains. Older than the Nine.
He placed his hand against the stone.
The shard responded immediately. A deep hum vibrated through the stone.
A grinding noise answered below.
Stone sliding against stone.
Then—air. Cold, metallic air, rushing upward from the well's depth.
A hidden passage had opened.
---
He lit a torch and descended.
The shaft curved gradually into a stone corridor. The air changed the further he went—less like rot, more like memory. The walls were lined with faded murals. Battles. Thrones. A figure cloaked in white, always standing apart from the Nine.
The Original.
The First Ancient One.
And at the end of the corridor: a door.
Massive. Carved from blackstone veined with red. No lock. No handle. Just a symbol etched into its center—the same shape as the shard embedded in his hand.
> [System Node Recognized: Access Granted]
The shard pulsed.
The door opened.
---
Inside was no vault.
It was a tomb.
Or perhaps a shrine.
A single pedestal stood in the center, and on it rested a book—bound in silver thread, pages untouched by time.
And beside it: armor.
Old, ceremonial, fractured down the chest. But powerful. Radiant even in ruin.
The moment Marcel stepped forward, the system surged.
> [System Integration Point: 01 Unsealed]
[Subsystem Unlocked: Lineage Protocol]
[Warning: Power Transfer Requires Oath and Offering]
And below that:
> "Those who would claim the path of the Forgotten must sever what they are to become what they must."
Marcel stood still.
He wasn't sure what the "offering" meant.
But deep in his chest, something shifted. Like a tether loosening.
The system wasn't just offering power.
It was demanding something in return.
---
Above, unnoticed in the treeline behind the village, three cloaked figures watched the wellhouse.
One held a blade etched with the Sable Crescent mark.
Another whispered into a small black stone, voice low.
"The shard has chosen its host."
The masked one didn't reply.
He simply turned, stepping into the forest shadows, leaving only silence behind.