The descent into Hallowdeep was like stepping into a different world—a colder, older one. Their footsteps echoed in strange ways, bouncing off unseen corners, returning as whispers that didn't match the words they'd spoken. The deeper they went, the more the walls seemed to close in, carved not just by tools, but by something… else. The air was damp, metallic, and tasted faintly of ash.
Maelis moved ahead with her bow half-drawn, scanning the darkness like it might lunge at them. Aric followed close behind, his hand resting on the hilt of the Emberblade. Every few steps, the blade would pulse softly, as if it could feel something down here that he couldn't.
Dain led the way with the lantern, holding it high. "These tunnels stretch for miles. Some say they were part of the Old Kingdom—before even the Emberlords ruled."
"Did people live here?" Aric asked, his voice low.
"No," Dain replied. "Not live. Hide, maybe. Bury things. Secrets."
They came to a fork—two tunnels, one sloping down, the other winding off into the shadows. Dain stared at both, his brows drawn tight. "This wasn't on the map."
"Of course it wasn't," Maelis muttered.
Aric stepped forward, closed his eyes, and let his fingers brush the wall. The Emberblade reacted, humming faintly. His eyes snapped open. "Left."
"You sure?" Dain asked.
"No," Aric said. "But the blade is."
That was enough.
The left tunnel descended sharply. The walls here bore marks—scratches, clawed lines gouged into the stone. None of them said it aloud, but they all felt it: something had been here. Recently.
A rusted gate blocked the path ahead. Dain pushed it open with a groan that echoed like a scream through the stone. They entered a vast chamber beyond, lit faintly by veins of glowing crystal embedded in the walls. The light danced off piles of rubble and broken columns, and at the center—an altar of black stone.
On it rested a sigil.
The Ember sigil.
It pulsed with a deep, red light. Not warm. Not inviting. It was the kind of light that warned you