Chapter 3:A truth

He was not alone.

At the heart of the cavern, sprawled across jagged rock, lay a beast of overwhelming majesty.

A lion.

Or rather, what remained of one.

Its body was massive, its fur once golden now dulled with the weight of years. Its mane, thick and unruly, shimmered with the dying embers of an ancient flame. Deep scars ran along its body, wounds that spoke of battles fought beyond mortal comprehension. Its breaths were slow, each one rattling the cavern as though the very air struggled to accommodate its presence.

And yet, its eyes still burned.

They locked onto Vorynxis, unblinking, filled with something far greater than mere recognition. Understanding.

Vorynxis did not move. He had encountered powerful beings before, but this was different. The lion was not merely powerful—it was a remnant of an era long before his own.

And it was dying.

A heavy silence settled between them, one that stretched beyond words. Then, the lion exhaled.

"You are not what I expected."

Its voice was like stone grinding against stone, ancient and unyielding. There was no hostility, only the weight of something that had seen too much.

Vorynxis did not answer immediately. His mind was still reeling, his thoughts fragmented, his body on the verge of collapse. And yet, he met the lion's gaze without hesitation.

"And what did you expect?" he asked, his voice hoarse from disuse.

The lion studied him for a long moment. Then, it did something unexpected.

It laughed.

Low, rumbling, filled with something between amusement and sorrow.

"Something greater. Something lesser. But never... this."

Vorynxis narrowed his eyes. There was meaning hidden within those words, but before he could press further, the lion continued.

"I know what you are," it said, its tone quieter now, as if speaking a truth the world was not meant to hear. "I can feel the ember within you. I have seen it before—long ago."

A flicker of something dangerous passed through Vorynxis' mind. The ember within him—his fire—was not ordinary. He had always suspected it, but for this ancient being to recognize it meant…

"Where?" His voice was sharp, urgent.

The lion's gaze softened.

"A place that no longer exists."

Silence.

A slow, gnawing realization settled in Vorynxis' chest. He had spent his life pursuing knowledge, power, and now, standing before a being who knew, who understood, he found himself at the edge of something far greater than he had ever imagined.

But before he could speak, the lion coughed—a deep, painful sound. Blood, dark and heavy, dripped onto the stone. Its body trembled, the weight of years pressing down.

"I do not have much time," it said. "And neither do you."

Vorynxis tensed. Not much time?

The lion exhaled, its voice dropping to something barely above a whisper.

"This world… is a cage."

The words struck harder than any physical blow.

A cage?

Vorynxis felt something shift within him—a deep, unrelenting wrongness clawing at the edges of his thoughts. He had always suspected the world was not what it seemed, but to hear it spoken so plainly—by something so ancient—meant that whatever truth lay beyond…

Was something the world itself sought to erase.

"How do you know?" he asked, his voice dangerously quiet.

The lion did not answer immediately. It simply stared at him, its golden eyes dimming. Then, slowly, it lifted a paw.

Vorynxis barely had time to react before a faint, flickering ember of frost formed at its center.

Ice.

But not just any ice. Something far colder than mere elemental force.

"Take it," the lion murmured. "If you wish to step beyond the cage... you will need it."

Vorynxis hesitated.

This power… it was offering him something far beyond a mere technique or ability. The Ice Ember—he could feel it, even from a distance. It was different from fire, and yet, in some way, felt eerily similar.

This was no ordinary inheritance.

This was a key.

And the lion was entrusting it to him.

Vorynxis' fingers curled slightly. He had always taken power. Claimed it, stolen it, conquered it. But this… this was being given to him.

And that, somehow, felt even more dangerous.

"Why?" he asked at last.

The lion's eyes softened.

"Because you still walk."

Silence stretched between them once more