Whispers Beneath The Surface

Soren kept walking through the forest, with no path left to follow.The earlier battle had thrown him off course, and the echoes of that clash had long faded into the distance. Now, only the rustling of leaves and the occasional distant shriek broke the stillness around him.

He had been moving for most of the day without rest. His legs were aching, and his stomach had started to protest the constant exertion. Shafts of golden light pierced through the dense canopy above, casting fractured patterns across the forest floor. The trees towered over him like ancient sentinels, and for a moment, Soren couldn't help but feel like an ant—small and insignificant beneath the weight of the wilderness.

Eventually, he stumbled upon something unexpected.

A pond.

The water sat quietly in a clearing, surrounded by slender trees that seemed almost delicate compared to the rest of the forest. It felt… untouched. Serene. As if this small place had somehow remained untainted by the chaos of the world outside.

The surface of the water shimmered faintly, catching the light in a way that made it glow soft blue—almost like moonlight reflected under a clear sky, even though the sun was still out.

Soren paused, eyes narrowing as he scanned the area for any lurking threats. Then, under his breath, he asked,"Is the water safe?"

Aeternis responded in his usual aloof tone."It's not regular water… but it's safe. No monsters hiding in it, if that's what you're worried about."

Satisfied, Soren started unfastening the rags of cloth clinging to his body, tossing them toward the edge of the pond.

Aeternis immediately erupted."HEY! HEY! HEY!"

Soren's left hand suddenly jerked upward, covering his own eyes—courtesy of Aeternis hijacking control.

"At least dismiss me first!" the sword snapped. "Displaying such barbaric behavior before nobility—have you no shame? In the old days, you'd be hanged… or castrated!"

Soren sighed, half-exasperated, half-amused."If a monster attacks, it's better to have you active."He lowered his hand and stepped into the pond. 

Aeternis only gave a quiet, begrudging "Hmph…" —because, of course, Soren was right.

Soren lowered his body into the water. The elegant trees around the pond cast fragmented shadows across the surface, painting the ripples with shifting patterns of shade and light. The water was cool, not too deep, sloping gently downward near the center.

"Now that hits the spot…" Aeternis murmured, despite being a dagger.

Soren raised a brow."How can you even feel this?"

"I have feelings too!" Aeternis snapped indignantly, as if offended by the question.

Interesting, Soren thought. Not for the first time, he wondered what exactly Aeternis was —not just a weapon, clearly, but something more.

As he sat there, letting the water soak into his skin and wash away the dried sweat and grime, Soren's eyes wandered. The surface was calm… but beneath it, something strange caught his attention.

The brilliance of essence—those tiny sparks of light—was far thicker here than at the river near his first camp. But it wasn't just the density that struck him. The sparks weren't still. They were moving.

They flowed with purpose, carried by a current unseen to the eye, their path bending subtly toward the far end of the pond, just beneath the deeper section. He narrowed his gaze, following the movement more carefully. The flow wasn't random—it was converging.

Something was drawing them in.

Aeternis made a casual suggestion."Shall we indulge in the mystery, then? Try separating the water—see what lies beneath."

Soren nodded slightly.

Right… Aeternis can see what I see.

He rose from the pond, shaking the water from his arms before slipping back into the rough fabric of his rags. Standing at the edge, he kept his eyes on the glimmering stream of essence.

He focused.

Slowly, deliberately, he reached out—not with his hands, but with his essence. It wasn't easy. The control required wasn't brute force; it was finesse, precision. He aligned his essence with the current, merged into it, and then pulled gently to either side.

And just like that… the water followed.

It peeled away, split by the pressure of his will. The pond parted, revealing a descending path beneath. But the strain was immediate—his breath caught in his chest, and his arms trembled. His hold faltered, and he released his control.

But the water didn't collapse.

It stayed parted—held in place by something else. Some force he hadn't summoned.

And then… he saw it.

At the base of the pond, embedded into the stone floor, stood a metallic double door. Its frame was ancient but intact, adorned with faint engravings—mountains etched into either side, weathered yet still distinct.

Soren glanced toward Aeternis."Is it safe?"

Aeternis hesitated—a rare moment of uncertainty."It should be… I recognize those markings, but… I can't recall from where."

Soren took a moment to think.

The water's still holding. I'm not maintaining it… which means something else is. Some kind of ancient mechanism or magic, likely woven into the structure itself. But if it fails while I'm inside… I don't know if I'll be able to part it again. If those doors seal behind me, I could drown before I even realize what's happening.

Still… Aeternis recognizes something. That matters. It's a thread. A connection to something older—gods, maybe. Or demons. Hard to say. But if I had to guess, given the nature of this place… it's probably the former. Then again… evil has always worn the mask of divinity. Just because something is draped in reverence doesn't mean it isn't rotten underneath.

He took a slow breath, steadying his thoughts.

And then, calmly, resolutely, he spoke.

"Let's see what's inside."

Soren approached the doors and, without much hesitation, pulled them open. A gust of wind rushed past his face, brushing against his skin like the breath of something ancient. The air inside was stale—thick, heavy, as though it had been sealed away for centuries, untouched by the world above.

Behind the doors, a narrow staircase descended into the darkness. Stone steps sloped downward, vanishing into the shadows below. But at the very end of the path, a faint glow pulsed—soft, distant, beckoning.

Soren took his first step.

His footfall echoed sharply, the sound bouncing along the walls and returning to him, distorted by the tunnel's depth. Another step… then another. The rhythm of his descent became a slow, measured ritual.

Ten steps… twenty.

Behind him, the doors creaked shut—not in a violent slam, but in a slow, deliberate motion. The sound was soft, almost reverent. As if unseen hands had quietly sealed the entrance, ensuring no one else would follow.

Soren glanced over his shoulder briefly, then turned his eyes forward again and continued downward.

Fifty steps… seventy-five… ninety…

At the hundredth step, the descent came to an end.

And then, the path opened.

He stepped into a vast chamber—one so immense it seemed to swallow the light itself.

The ceiling stretched impossibly high, lost in the dark above, but faint ripples shimmered across its surface, refracting pale light like sunlight filtering through water. That light gathered and poured downward, illuminating the center of the chamber where a massive altar stood—crafted entirely of flawless jade, its smooth surfaces glinting with an otherworldly sheen. The altar gleamed like it had just been carved, untouched by dust or time.

Around it, the walls of the cavern were embedded with stones that shimmered softly, scattered like stars across a black sky. Their glow was gentle—distant but endless—giving the chamber a dreamlike atmosphere, as though the universe itself had been sealed underground.

On the floor, delicate flowers bloomed—luminescent and blue, their petals glowing faintly in the dim light. They clustered around the altar in quiet reverence, as if drawn to it by instinct. Some pulsed slowly, their soft light rising and fading like a heartbeat.

Soren stood still, breath caught in his throat.

The air was cold, but not unwelcoming. The silence was deep, but not hollow. And the altar… it was beautiful in a way nothing else in the world had been—sacred, haunting, unreal.

He didn't speak.

He simply stared, letting the weight of the place settle over him.

Something about it didn't just feel ancient.It felt eternal.

Soren's mind was filled with awe and questions. The view in front of him was utterly breathtaking.

Who has built this place… and why? It feels like it held ritualistic value—or something close to it. The jade altar in the center… it must have served as a place of offering, a prayer altar for a deity. But if that deity still exists… is it one of goodwill? Or malice?

He jolted out of his thoughts. Nothing inside the chamber stirred—only the gentle pulsation of the luminescent blue flowers. They glowed in slow waves, and with each wave, the light converged on the altar… almost as if it were breathing.

Soren took a step closer. And another.

The closer he moved toward the altar, the stronger the sensation became—not of danger, but of peace. A strange, foreign calm pressed against his skin, like walking into a boundary he hadn't felt before. A barrier not meant to repel… but to embrace.

Why does it feel so safe…? It's not natural. Nothing in this world gives comfort without a price. So what is this feeling trying to hide?

He paused, standing just a few paces away from the altar now. The jade surface shimmered faintly beneath the light, and the carved edges seemed to hum in a rhythm too subtle to be sound.

Soren examined the carvings etched into the jade. Some were too worn to understand—blurred by time, weathered by the ages. Pieces of the altar had crumbled, with shards of jade scattered across the floor like fragments of forgotten history. Among them, there were faint traces of murals—some so faded they were barely more than scratches. Dust covered most of it, but one image stood out, just enough to be noticed.

Are those people… or objects? Praying to something? Or offering something?Too much of it is missing. The pieces that could explain it all have fallen or broken over time. And there are runes on the floor of the altar… but I can't read them. I don't even know how runes really work.

As he stood there, trying to piece together what meaning he could, Aeternis spoke—quietly, but with a strange clarity.

"This is an altar. But I believe the deities it once served are long forgotten. If you want… I can try to send a prayer."

Soren hesitated, considering the offer. He wasn't eager to draw the attention of a god—especially one that might not be dead. But if there was even a chance something remained… something buried, something still listening… it might be worth the risk.

If they're truly gone, nothing will happen.But if they're not… and I do this right… I might learn something that no one else has.

Soren let out a slow breath and loosened his grip.

Aeternis took over.

His body moved without resistance as the divine weapon guided him forward. Step by step, Soren ascended the altar and slowly knelt down before it—calm, deliberate, and silent.