The mouth of the Silverreach mine loomed before Kael like a scar carved into the bones of the world. No birds sang. No wind stirred. Even the light seemed hesitant to enter.
Kael adjusted the vambrace on his arm, golden threads of celestial energy weaving silently around his fingers. Behind him, Lyra stood ready, her blade glowing faintly blue, while Valen spun his spear in one hand, whistling softly to hide his nerves.
"You know," Valen muttered, "in the old stories, when the gods go into the dark, they don't always come back."
Kael didn't smile. "Then we rewrite the stories."
He stepped forward—and the earth swallowed them.
The entrance collapsed behind them, not with violence, but with eerie finality. They descended into pure black. Magic torches lit up only a few feet ahead, the darkness swallowing light like a starving beast.
"Feels wrong," Lyra whispered. "Like the dark here isn't empty—it's… listening."
Kael nodded. "It is."
They descended through twisted tunnels where stone wept black ichor and gravity pulled in strange directions. Symbols etched into the walls shifted when they weren't looking. Time… twisted here.
Then, they reached it.
A vast chamber opened before them—a cathedral buried in the roots of the world. Pillars carved from onyx stretched up into nothingness. In the center floated a massive sarcophagus, chained in every direction by glowing runes and ancient iron. It pulsed with deep red light—like a slumbering heart.
And above it, written in a language older than gods, one word:
TYRNEX.
The Hollow King.
Kael approached slowly. His divine essence burned the air as he extended a hand toward the bindings.
The Celestial Core warned him.
"Do not touch the chains. His essence is awake. He will speak."
Kael stopped just shy of the sarcophagus.
And then—it opened its eyes.
Two massive, molten eyes ignited across the surface of the tomb, staring straight into Kael's soul. Not madness. Not rage. Something far worse:
Knowledge.
"You shine bright, godling," the Hollow King rumbled, voice deeper than the void. "Brighter than Yaros. But your light... is borrowed."
Kael narrowed his eyes. "I reforged this world. Sealed the Abyss. I don't fear you."
"You should," Tyrnex whispered. "For I remember the truth even creation forgot. Before light. Before gods. Before time... there was me."
The chains rattled. One of the runes cracked.
"Your seal won't hold much longer," Lyra said urgently. "He's feeding on the world's energy."
Kael stepped back. "Then we reinforce it—now."
He summoned the Twelve Star Pillars, beams of celestial light slamming into the chamber's perimeter, forming a burning ring of power. Valen and Lyra joined him, weaving the sigils of the Binding Rite, their voices echoing against ancient stone.
The Hollow King laughed, low and thunderous.
"You think you've won because you sealed a wound. But child… I am the blade that made the cut."
The tomb shook violently. A chunk of the ceiling cracked and fell.
One chain snapped.
Kael's eyes burned with fury.
"Not this time."
He raised both hands, divine light spiraling from his core, merging with the ancient seals. With Lyra and Valen channeling their energy into him, Kael poured power into the ritual. The ground shook. The air screamed.
And then—silence.
The chain reformed. The runes reignited.
Tyrnex roared, forced back into slumber… for now.
But before the sarcophagus went still again, it whispered one last warning:
"You cannot kill what gave birth to death."
Kael stared at the tomb, breathing hard.
"We'll see."