Beneath the Surface

The wind carried a distant howl, a reminder that the world outside was shifting. Inside the workshop, the air remained dense, saturated with the lingering presence of what had just transpired. The stranger's gaze lingered on the aetherstone as if expecting it to pulse once more.

‎Ryn turned to the hooded figure. "You said others will follow. Who exactly are they?"

‎The silver-eyed figure let out a slow breath, almost as if tasting the very words before speaking them. "Those who seek to silence what should not be awakened. They are bound by the old ways, sworn to keep the abyss from gaining a foothold in this world."

‎Ryn frowned. "And you? You don't seem too concerned about the old ways."

‎The hooded figure smirked, though there was no humor in it. "Concern? No. But I have no illusions about what this means. You have changed something fundamental, and those who keep the balance will move to correct it."

‎The stranger stepped forward. "Then we must move first. Waiting for them to act gives them the advantage."

‎The hooded figure turned to face him, their silver eyes locking onto his. "Are you prepared for what that means? Once you step forward, there will be no return. The abyss does not let go of those who call to it."

‎The stranger did not hesitate. "I was never meant to walk the path of retreat."

‎Ryn clenched his jaw. He could feel it—the gravity of the choice before him. The mark on the aetherstone was no longer just an inscription. It was a call, a ripple sent through the fabric of the world.

‎The hooded figure's voice dropped lower. "Then you must leave this place. Now. The longer you remain, the easier you are to find. They will come, and they will not ask questions before they strike."

‎The workshop, once a place of quiet craftsmanship, now felt like a cage. Ryn glanced at the tools, the shelves of unfinished engravings. Everything he had known was slipping away.

‎"Where do we go?" he asked, voice steady despite the turmoil inside him.

‎The hooded figure stepped toward the door, pulling the cloak tighter around their form. "Beneath the city, there are places untouched by time. That is where we begin."

‎The stranger nodded. "Then let's not waste time."

‎As they stepped into the night, the wind howled again—not just a wind, but a whisper. A promise. The abyss was waiting.

*****

The streets were empty, the city bathed in the pale glow of distant lanterns. Ryn followed the hooded figure and the stranger through the narrow alleys, each step pulling them further away from the world they had known.

‎Ahead, the hooded figure came to a stop before an old well, its wooden frame worn by time. The stone edges were covered in deep, ancient engravings, symbols that pulsed faintly in the dim light.

‎" This is it? " Ryn asked, hesitating. "A well?"

‎The hooded figure nodded. "Not just any well. This passage predates the city itself. It leads to the undercroft—places long forgotten, places where the watchers' gaze does not reach."

‎The stranger stepped forward, placing a hand on the edge. The symbols flickered, responding to his touch. With a faint hum, the air around them shifted, and the darkness inside the well deepened unnaturally.

‎Ryn swallowed hard. "And we're just going to… climb down?"

‎" Not climb," the hooded figure murmured. "Fall."

‎Before Ryn could protest, the stranger leaped into the well, vanishing into the darkness below without a sound. The hooded figure followed suit, disappearing as if swallowed by the abyss.

‎Ryn hesitated only a moment longer before stepping forward. The engraving on the stone pulsed in response to his presence as if recognizing him. Taking a deep breath, he pushed off the edge and plunged into the unknown.

‎The descent was not what he expected. Instead of cold stone walls rushing past, he felt as though he were suspended in an endless void, weightless and drifting. Strange whispers brushed against his mind, fragments of voices from another time, another existence.

‎Then, without warning, the darkness parted.

‎Ryn landed with a soft thud on solid ground, his breath hitching. Around him stretched an enormous cavern, illuminated by the eerie glow of distant, floating engravings embedded in the rock. The air was thick with a strange energy, a hum that settled deep into his bones.

‎The stranger and the hooded figure stood nearby, waiting.

‎"Welcome to the undercroft," the hooded figure said. "The last refuge of those who walk against the current."

‎The cavern stretched endlessly before them, the air thick with the hum of unseen energy. Strange inscriptions flickered along the walls, shifting as if they were alive. Ryn took a cautious step forward, the ground beneath his feet cool and uneven.

‎The hooded figure led the way, moving with certainty through the darkness. The stranger followed close behind, his eyes scanning the surroundings as though expecting something to emerge from the shadows.

‎" The undercroft is ancient," the hooded figure murmured. "Built by those who knew the true nature of engravings. Their knowledge was buried with them, but remnants remain."

‎Ryn's gaze flickered to the glowing symbols. "What do they say?"

‎The figure traced a hand along the nearest engraving, and for a moment, the light dimmed, the symbol contorting. A faint whisper echoed through the cavern, too fragmented to decipher.

‎"They speak of warning, of power," the figure said. "But also of something else—something watching."

‎A chill ran down Ryn's spine. He turned his attention to the stranger. "You've been quiet. What do you make of this?"

‎The stranger's expression was unreadable. "I've seen such marks before. They do not just warn; they bind. Someone—or something—was sealed here. And if these symbols are fading…"

‎His words trailed off, but the implication was clear.

‎The hooded figure continued forward. "Come. There is more to see."

‎As they ventured deeper into the undercroft, the atmosphere grew heavier, pressing against them like unseen hands. The whispers in the air became clearer, words forming just beyond comprehension.

‎Then, suddenly, the symbols on the walls flared to life, their glow intensifying.

‎The cavern trembled.

‎Something was awakening.

‎Ryn's heart pounded as the ground beneath them began to shift. From the darkness ahead, a low, resonant sound emerged—not a voice, but a presence.

‎And he seemed to be waiting for Ryn, ignoring the other two.

‎