Chapter 10: The Descent Begins
The Deep Holds were not part of the official Academy map.
There were no wayfinding runes, no helpful enchantments, no ambient lights to guide the curious. Only stories—of madness, sealed vaults, and things older than the Accord itself. Stories meant to frighten young mages.
Now Kael and Lira stood at its rusted threshold.
The gate to the Holds groaned open with the sound of a dying beast. Rust flaked like dried blood from its hinges. The air that escaped was old and sharp, like breath stolen from the dead.
Kael tightened his grip on the lantern Lira had lit. Its flame pulsed oddly—flickering not with the wind, but with some deeper tremor beneath the stone.
"I hate this already," Lira muttered.
Kael said nothing. He was too focused on the burn in his palm. The twin runes—𝚲 and Ϟ—glowed softly, guiding him deeper. Or warning him.
The tunnel sloped steeply downward. They passed ancient murals along the walls, each depicting fire-shaped gods locked in war. In some, great gates loomed, flanked by chained titans. In others, flame bled from stone like open wounds.
Their footsteps echoed. Each one seemed to carry too far, like sound itself was stretched thin here.
At the first junction, Kael stopped.
A fork.
One path led toward a shattered bridge, crumbling into an abyss. The other veered into narrow halls lined with braziers long extinguished.
Kael pointed right.
Lira didn't ask how he knew.
They moved.
Hours passed. Time bent strangely in the Holds. It felt like they'd been walking for days, though Kael's watch—enchanted to resist magical warping—read only three hours.
Then came the tremor.
A low hum first, then a sound like thunder rolling through the bones of the earth.
The walls shook. Dust fell like snow. From far off, something moaned.
Kael and Lira froze, weapons drawn.
Then silence.
"Let's keep moving," Kael said, voice tight.
They pressed on.
Eventually they reached a vast antechamber. The ceiling arched high overhead, lost in darkness. Pillars lined the edges, each carved with names Kael could not read—but somehow understood.
"Those are Gateborn names," Lira said, tracing one with her fingers. "Old ones."
Kael's heart beat faster. "Then why is mine not here?"
As if in response, the central plinth flared to life. Fire erupted along the seams, revealing a tenth name—scrawled in glowing runes:
KAELEN VIREN OF GREYVALE
The fire raced outward. Doors beyond the chamber cracked open. Warm air spilled in, laced with something ancient. Something alive.
They entered.
Inside, they found the first gate.
Not the Gate—but a smaller one. A trial, perhaps. It stood in the center of a circular room, ringed in firelight. Chains bound it from every side, connected to twelve stone guardians lining the wall.
As Kael stepped closer, the gate stirred.
Flame coiled in the air. The chains tightened.
A voice boomed—not aloud, but inside their heads.
"Only fire may pass."
Kael held out his marked palm. The runes blazed.
The gate shuddered.
One chain snapped.
"Is this wise?" Lira whispered.
"No," Kael said. "But it's the only way forward."
One by one, the chains broke. Each time Kael stepped closer, the fire in him answered. Until only one link remained.
The air crackled. Kael reached forward.
Flame erupted from the last guardian. It formed into a shape—a humanoid figure made of ash and molten light.
A trial.
It lunged.
Kael dodged barely in time. The creature's hand melted stone where it struck.
"Go for the core!" Lira shouted.
Kael summoned fire to his fists—new, raw, untrained. But it answered.
He ducked, rolled, and struck upward.
The creature howled. Light exploded from its chest.
With a final cry, it scattered into sparks.
The last chain dropped.
The gate opened.
Beyond was a stair spiraling into crimson-dark.
As they descended, Kael felt his mark pulse like a heartbeat. Faster. Louder.
At the bottom was a hall carved entirely from obsidian. On every wall: runes, maps, and etchings of gates. All nine. And in the center—a pedestal with a glowing shard. It pulsed in rhythm with Kael's hand.
He stepped forward.
"Wait," Lira warned.
But it was too late.
The moment he touched the shard, fire flared.
Visions slammed into him:
— A war of flame against void.
— Gates opening across the world.
— A voice screaming in rage and sorrow.
"You are not ready."
Kael fell back, gasping.
But the shard remained in his hand.
It did not burn.
Lira helped him up, eyes wide.
"You just claimed a Key," she said. "One of the Nine."
Kael nodded slowly.
And from deep beneath, the mountain growled.
To be Continued....