The cavern had fallen silent again.
No more whispers. No more scratching claws against the stone.
Only the deep, aching stillness that follows a storm.
Ayla sat against one of the cold pillars, arms wrapped around her knees. Her body still trembled from the power she had unleashed, her mind struggling to make sense of the visions she had seen.
Kaelen stood a few feet away, watching the mouth of the tunnel, sword drawn.
Always vigilant.
Always prepared for the next attack.
"You need to learn to control it," he said without turning.
His voice was like stone grinding against stone — rough, unyielding.
Ayla looked up, her heart sinking.
"I don't even know what it is," she whispered.
Kaelen finally turned, his silver gaze pinning her to the spot.
"It's power," he said. "Old power. Wild and dangerous. It's part of you now... or maybe it always was."
He sheathed his sword and crossed the space between them, kneeling to her level.
"If you can't control it, Ayla, it will destroy you. And everyone around you."
The words landed like blows.
Ayla bit her lip, tasting blood.
"But how?" she asked. "How do I control something I don't understand?"
Kaelen studied her for a long moment, then held out his hand.
"Stand up," he said.
Reluctantly, Ayla placed her trembling hand in his. He pulled her to her feet effortlessly.
"We start simple," Kaelen said.
"Focus. Listen. Feel."
He led her to the center of the cavern, where the stone floor was marked with faded symbols — an ancient training ground.
"Close your eyes," he instructed.
Ayla hesitated.
"Close them," he said again, gentler this time.
She obeyed, shutting out the dim light, the crumbling ruins, even Kaelen's watchful presence.
"Now," he said softly, "reach inward. Find the spark. It's there... waiting."
At first, all Ayla felt was fear. A tight knot of anxiety clenching her chest.
But she pushed past it, deeper, until she found it —
A flicker.
A warmth.
A heartbeat within her own.
She gasped.
"I feel it," she whispered.
"Good," Kaelen said. "Now hold it. Don't force it. Let it grow."
The spark flared, sending tendrils of energy up her spine, across her skin. Her hair lifted slightly, crackling with static.
"Open your eyes," Kaelen said.
She did — and the world had changed.
Lines of energy crisscrossed the cavern, weaving intricate patterns in the air. Kaelen himself glowed faintly, a halo of silver light outlining his form.
But before she could marvel at it, a sharp pain lanced through her chest.
The spark was growing too fast, too wild.
Ayla staggered, clutching her head.
"Control it!" Kaelen barked. "Don't let it consume you!"
The energy inside her raged like a storm.
She saw flashes — memories that weren't hers:
A battlefield soaked in blood.
Towers crumbling into the sea.
A gate of bone and fire, swinging wide...
"No!" she screamed, falling to her knees.
Kaelen was beside her instantly, gripping her shoulders.
"Listen to me," he said fiercely. "It's a part of you. Not a monster. You command it — not the other way around!"
Ayla squeezed her eyes shut, teeth clenched against the agony.
Slowly, painfully, she forced the spark to shrink, to coil back into the center of her being.
The visions faded.
The pain ebbed.
She opened her eyes, gasping for air.
Kaelen released her, sitting back on his heels.
"You did better than most," he said, not unkindly. "You didn't shatter yourself."
Ayla gave a weak, bitter laugh.
"High praise," she muttered.
Kaelen's mouth quirked in what might have been the ghost of a smile.
"You'll learn," he said. "Or you'll die trying."
Later, at the edge of the ruins...
Ayla knelt beside a shallow pool of water, splashing her face. Her reflection stared back at her — pale, wide-eyed, older somehow.
She barely recognized herself.
A shadow moved in the water.
Ayla stiffened, reaching for her dagger — but when she spun around, there was nothing there.
Only the wind, whispering through the broken stones.
Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched.
Kaelen appeared beside her, silent as a ghost.
"We're not alone," he said quietly.
"I felt it," Ayla replied.
Kaelen scanned the darkness beyond the ruined pillars.
"He's found us."
"Who?" Ayla asked, heart racing.
Kaelen's expression was grim.
"The Hunter."
A low rumble vibrated through the stone beneath their feet, so faint it was almost a feeling rather than a sound.
Kaelen grabbed Ayla's wrist and pulled her behind a collapsed column, motioning for silence.
From the tunnel's mouth, something emerged — tall, wrapped in torn black armor that looked grafted to its flesh. A helm covered its face, but where its eyes should have been, there burned two cold, blue flames.
The Hunter.
It moved with terrifying grace, every step deliberate, purposeful. The air around it seemed to darken, wilting the very stones.
Ayla's breath caught in her throat.
This was no mindless servant like the creatures from before.
This thing was intelligent.
And it was here for her.
Kaelen's hand tightened around the hilt of his sword.
"If he sees us," he whispered, "we're dead."
Ayla nodded silently, heart hammering against her ribs.
They crept along the broken wall, moving as quietly as they could.
The Hunter paused, tilting its head as if listening.
Ayla froze.
For one horrible second, she felt its gaze pass over her — a freezing cold that sliced through her mind, leaving her trembling.
It knows.
Somehow, it knew she was there.
Before she could react, Kaelen yanked her away, sprinting across the cavern toward another passage.
The Hunter let out a sound — not a roar, not a scream, but something worse: a hollow, metallic ringing that seemed to vibrate inside Ayla's bones.
Shadows erupted from the stones around them, twisting into grotesque shapes — dark beasts with fanged maws and taloned limbs.
Kaelen cursed and drew his sword in one fluid motion.
"Run!" he shouted at Ayla. "Find the upper Gate! Go!"
"But—!" she started to protest.
Kaelen turned, facing the advancing horrors with a grim, resolute expression.
"I'll hold them. GO!"
Ayla hesitated — but only for a moment.
She turned and ran, sprinting up the twisting path through the ruins.
Behind her, she heard the clash of steel against claw, Kaelen's battle cries echoing in the gloom.
Tears blurred her vision, but she didn't stop.
She couldn't.
Not again.
The path climbed steeply, leading her higher into the mountain. The air grew thinner, colder.
The ruins thinned, replaced by natural caverns laced with shimmering crystals that pulsed with faint inner light.
Her legs burned. Her lungs screamed for air.
Still she ran.
Until she stumbled into a vast, open chamber — and stopped, gasping.
At the far end, perched atop a dais of cracked marble, was another Gate.
This one was intact — tall and regal, its arch inscribed with golden runes that glowed faintly in the dim light.
Hope surged in Ayla's chest.
She crossed the chamber, nearly sobbing with relief.
But as she approached, she saw something that made her blood run cold.
Chains.
The Gate was shackled — heavy iron links anchored it to the ground, pulsing with dark magic.
A trap.
Too late, she heard the scrape of armor behind her.
The Hunter had followed.
Ayla spun, raising her dagger with trembling hands.
The Hunter advanced slowly, savoring her fear.
No escape.
No Kaelen.
Only her.
Ayla backed toward the Gate, her mind racing.
Think. Think!
The energy. The spark inside her. Could she use it again?
She reached inward, desperate.
For a moment, she found nothing but panic.
Then — a flicker.
She clung to it, feeding it with every ounce of defiance she had left.
The dagger in her hand began to hum, glowing faintly.
The Hunter lunged.
Ayla sidestepped clumsily, barely avoiding its grasp.
The force of its passage sent a shockwave through the chamber, cracking the stone floor.
She slashed blindly, and the dagger's tip caught the edge of the Hunter's armor.
A burst of light exploded from the contact — throwing the creature back several feet.
Ayla stared in shock.
It could be hurt.
Not killed — but hurt.
The Hunter snarled, the sound echoing like grinding metal.
It came at her again, faster.
Ayla ducked under its swipe, feeling the wind of its passing ruffle her hair. She rolled across the floor, came up into a crouch.
Instinct took over.
She ran not away — but toward the Gate.
She slammed her bloodied palm against its surface.
Golden runes blazed to life, washing the chamber in brilliant light.
The chains around the Gate hissed and recoiled, shrinking away from the holy fire.
Ayla turned just in time to see the Hunter hurl a black spear of energy at her.
She threw herself to the side — too slow.
The spear grazed her arm, burning a line of fire across her skin.
She screamed but didn't stop.
The Gate pulsed once.
Twice.
And then — with a deafening crack — it flared open.
A doorway of pure white light yawned before her.
Without thinking, Ayla threw herself into it.
The last thing she saw before the world vanished was the Hunter's enraged, burning eyes.