The Depths Below

Noah moved cautiously through the ruins, his footsteps echoing against the ancient stone. The glow of the sigil had faded behind him, leaving the air cold and empty. The corridor ahead stretched into darkness, its walls covered in strange carvings—the same shifting symbols as before.

His body still ached from the encounter with the beast, but the exhaustion was secondary. His mind was too alert, too sharp. Something had changed within him. He could still feel the energy from the sigil, like a lingering pulse beneath his skin.

Was it permanent?

Was he still the same person he had been before stepping into that light?

No answers came.

He clenched his fists and pressed forward.

The corridor descended in a gentle slope, guiding him deeper underground. The deeper he went, the heavier the air became.

Noah exhaled slowly, keeping his senses sharp. He had no idea what was ahead, but the further he moved, the more unnatural the space felt. The silence was absolute. Even his own breathing sounded muffled, like the air itself was swallowing sound.

Then, he saw it.

A chamber—far larger than the one before. Pillars lined the walls, supporting a vaulted ceiling covered in ancient etchings. The floor was uneven, cracked with age. At the far end of the chamber stood something massive.

A door.

Not just any door—a gate.

It was carved from obsidian stone, towering at least twenty feet high. Strange runes pulsed across its surface, shifting like liquid. Unlike the sigil he had stepped into before, this door was still active.

Noah took a hesitant step closer. The sheer presence of it sent shivers down his spine. This was no ordinary entrance.

It was a barrier.

Something was sealed behind it.

"You shouldn't be here."

Noah spun around, his body tensing.

The voice was soft—almost a whisper.

But he was alone.

The chamber was empty. No movement, no footsteps. Yet, the presence lingered.

"You are not ready."

The voice came again, closer this time.

Noah's fingers curled into fists. "Who's there?"

Silence.

Then, out of the darkness, a figure emerged.

A woman.

She was draped in a flowing robe, the fabric black as night, shimmering like woven mist. Her features were sharp, elegant, her skin pale as marble. Long raven-black hair cascaded over her shoulders. Her eyes—deep silver, almost luminous.

She was not human.

Noah took a cautious step back. His instincts screamed that she was dangerous.

But she merely tilted her head, observing him.

"The sigil marked you." Her voice was calm, emotionless. "I did not think anyone could activate it after all this time."

Noah didn't relax. "Who are you?"

The woman didn't answer immediately. Instead, she took a slow step forward, the fabric of her robe shifting like smoke in the wind.

"A guardian."

His pulse quickened. "Of the door?"

She nodded. "And of what lies beyond it."

Noah glanced back at the massive obsidian gate. The runes pulsed, shifting as if they were alive.

"…What's behind it?"

The woman's silver eyes locked onto his.

"Something that should never be awakened."

Noah exhaled sharply, keeping his mind steady. Every instinct told him not to trust her.

He had too many unanswered questions.

"What was that beast?" he asked, watching her expression. "The one in the ruins."

For the first time, the woman's gaze flickered.

"A fragment," she said. "A remnant of the past."

"That's not an answer."

She studied him for a moment. Then, with a sigh, she spoke again.

"This place was once a sanctum," she said. "A stronghold of those who wielded a power long since erased from this world. What you encountered… was an echo of their mistakes."*

Noah frowned. "And the sigil?"

The woman was silent.

But that alone was an answer.

"…It changed me," he said. "Didn't it?"

A faint nod. "It marked you."

"For what?"

"That remains to be seen."

A cryptic answer—but Noah wasn't surprised. She wasn't going to give him everything. Not yet.

His eyes drifted back to the sealed gate.

Something was beyond it. Something powerful. Dangerous.

And for some reason—

He felt like he was meant to find it.

The woman stepped between him and the gate.

"This is not your path," she said. "Leave, while you still can."

Noah narrowed his eyes. He didn't trust her. But she hadn't tried to attack him.

He had two choices.

1. Leave, find another way forward, and learn more before coming back.

2. Ignore her warning and attempt to open the gate.

His body still ached from using the sigil. He was weak. He didn't even have a weapon.

But something inside him—the same feeling that had led him to step into the sigil—told him that turning away meant losing something important.

He clenched his jaw.

No.

He wasn't leaving.

Noah stepped forward.

The woman's expression remained unreadable. "You would ignore my warning?"

"Yes."

A slow sigh. She lifted her hand—and for the first time, a pulse of silver energy radiated from her palm.

"If that is your choice," she murmured, "then prove you are worthy to take it."

The air cracked with energy.

Shadows surged.

And Noah had no time to prepare.