Chapter 5: The Mortal Veil

A jolt of energy coursed through Eliam's body as he emerged from the portal, his vision momentarily blinded by a blinding white light. The sensation was unlike anything he had felt before his soul stretching, twisting, and then snapping into place as he crossed the threshold between realms.

Then, silence.

The brightness faded, replaced by the dim glow of torchlight flickering against cold stone walls. The scent of damp earth and aged wood filled the air. The world felt... heavier. The divine energy that had surrounded him in the Watchtower was gone, replaced by the raw, unfiltered essence of mortality.

He had returned.

Eliam steadied himself, his boots pressing into the uneven ground of what seemed to be an underground chamber. He reached out, brushing his fingers against the rough stone wall beside him. His senses, though dulled from the divine realm, slowly adjusted to the mortal world.

A new voice pierced the quiet.

"Who the hell are you?"

Eliam's eyes snapped toward the source of the voice-a man clad in dark robes, holding a lantern. His face was thin, his eyes sharp with suspicion. Behind him, two others stood, hands on the hilts of their weapons. They weren't soldiers, but they carried themselves like men accustomed to violence.

Eliam knew immediately-grave robbers.

His sudden arrival had disrupted their work.

The chamber he stood in was no ordinary room. Tombs lined the walls, each sealed with ancient markings. Dust clung to the air, undisturbed for decades. The realization struck him he had not just returned to the mortal realm; he had appeared inside a crypt.

The lead robber took a cautious step forward. "Answer me, stranger. How did you get in here?"

Eliam exhaled slowly. His body was still adjusting, and he could feel remnants of celestial energy flickering within him. If these men thought he was some lost traveler, they would soon regret their mistake.

He rolled his shoulders, testing his strength.

Though the divine energy within him had dimmed, he could still feel its presence lingering, blending with something darker-the abyssal power he had absorbed.

"I walked in," Eliam said calmly.

The lead robber sneered. "Through solid stone?"

Eliam smirked. "Something like that."

One of the men behind the leader, younger and more impatient, stepped forward. "He's playing games. Let's just kill him and be done with it."

The lead robber hesitated, clearly uncertain.

Eliam could see the gears turning in his mind.

A man appearing out of nowhere inside a sealed crypt was not something easily explained. The weight of superstition pressed against the thief's logic.

Eliam decided to push further.

"You've disturbed this place," he said, voice low. "Desecrated it. Do you know what happens to those who steal from the dead?"

The youngest thief scoffed. "Spare me the ghost stories."

Eliam let his eyes darken. He focused, channeling the residual divine energy still clinging to his soul. The lantern's light flickered, the flames trembling as if caught in an unseen wind. Shadows stretched unnaturally along the walls, twisting and curling like hungry serpents.

The lead robber stumbled back, his breath quickening.

"Magic-he's a sorcerer!"

The younger one reached for his blade, but before he could unsheath it, Eliam moved.

In a flash, he closed the distance, his hand clamping around the man's wrist. A surge of energy shot through his fingers, sending the thief crashing to his knees with a strangled gasp. His skin paled, his body convulsing as Eliam siphoned the warmth from his very essence.

The lead robber's eyes widened in terror.

"Demon!"

Eliam released the man, letting him collapse, barely conscious. He turned his gaze to the remaining two.

"Leave," he commanded. "And do not return."

They didn't need to be told twice. The lead robber grabbed his fallen companion and all but dragged him toward the exit. Their hurried footsteps echoed as they fled, leaving Eliam alone in the crypt.

Silence settled once more.

He exhaled, rubbing his temples. His power was still unstable, shifting unpredictably between divine and abyssal. He needed time to understand it, to master it.

But there was no time.

The Arbiter's final words echoed in his mind.

"Seraphine still exists... but her fate is bound to forces beyond even the gods' will."

Seraphine.

The name stirred something deep within him

a memory, a longing, a promise unfulfilled.

He had to find her.

Eliam turned toward the entrance of the crypt. The tunnel stretched ahead, leading toward the surface. He could already hear the distant hum of civilization-voices, the clatter of hooves on cobblestone, the faint scent of burning wood.

He took his first step forward, emerging from the darkness.

The mortal world awaits!