The Monolith’s Call
Darkness swallowed them whole. The cavern's collapse was not mere stone and dust—it was a rupture in space itself. Ryn felt his body twist, weightless yet crushed under an unseen force. His vision blurred as whispers, neither human nor comprehensible, flooded his mind.
Time stretched. A moment became eternity.
Then—impact.
Ryn hit something solid, the force rattling his bones. He gasped for breath, coughing against the thick air that clung to him like oil. He was alive, but the world around him had changed.
Faint, eerie luminescence pulsed through the vast chamber. The air crackled with unstable energy, runes shifting in and out of existence on the jagged walls. This was no ordinary cavern—it was something far older, something constructed.
The hooded figure groaned nearby, pushing himself up with a grimace. "Where… are we?" His voice was hoarse, laced with exhaustion.
The stranger, unscathed as ever, let out an amused chuckle. "Where else? We fell beyond the boundaries of the inscriptions. A place that wasn't meant to be reached." He gestured at the pulsating symbols that seemed to shimmer between dimensions. "And it looks like our friend here has a special connection to it."
Ryn clenched his fists. His engravings burned, hungry—as if resonating with the space itself. He could feel the abyss within him stirring, reaching out, seeking something buried in this forsaken place.
The whispers grew louder.
_The cycle bends. The Unwritten awakens._
Then, from the depths of the chamber, something moved.
The movement was slow at first—like the shifting of ancient stone long undisturbed. Then, a presence made itself known. A shape loomed in the distance, hidden within the abyssal glow of the inscriptions lining the walls. Ryn felt it before he saw it—a pulse, an unfathomable weight pressing against his very soul.
His engravings flared, reacting to the unseen force. The abyss inside him stirred hungrily, urging him forward, but caution gripped his mind. He had felt power before, but this... this was something beyond mortal understanding.
The hooded figure stepped closer, his breath steady but guarded. "We should not be here," he murmured. "This place exists outside the natural order."
The stranger, ever intrigued by the unknown, merely smirked. "Then that means we've found something worth taking."
The presence in the darkness moved again.
A deep, resonant sound rippled through the chamber, like the groan of a dying world. Symbols shifted along the walls, twisting and merging, forming patterns that defied logic. Ryn's engravings burned hotter, reacting to the change. He took a step forward, drawn by an unseen force, and as his foot touched the ground, the entire space shuddered.
A fissure of light erupted in the center of the chamber. A structure, once hidden, now revealed itself—a monolith covered in inscriptions, pulsating with the same hungry energy that writhed within Ryn's very being.
The whispers in his mind sharpened.
_The Unwritten must choose._
His heart pounded. His body ached with the weight of the unknown. But there was no turning back now.
He reached out—and the monolith answered.
The instant Ryn's fingers brushed against the monolith, a surge of energy coursed through his veins. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before—raw, primordial, unshaped power. His engravings pulsed wildly in response, shifting, twisting, absorbing the force like a starving beast.
The chamber around him trembled. The walls, inscribed with the ancient symbols, began to glow with a cold, otherworldly radiance. The monolith's patterns shifted, responding to Ryn's presence, rearranging themselves as if they were rewriting the very laws of existence.
The hooded figure took a sharp step back. "Stop!" he hissed, his voice filled with uncharacteristic urgency. "You have no idea what you're meddling with!"
The stranger, on the other hand, was grinning. "No, let him continue. This is something new."
Ryn barely heard them. His mind was no longer bound to the chamber; he was elsewhere. Images flooded his consciousness—cities crumbling under celestial fire, beings of impossible design whispering forbidden truths, an endless cycle of creation and destruction. And at the center of it all was a shadow—a figure cloaked in ink-black nothingness, its presence warping reality itself.
_The Unwritten must decide._
The voice was no longer a whisper. It was a decree.
A choice lay before him. He could feel it, woven into the very core of the monolith's power. To accept it fully would mean stepping beyond the boundaries of what he knew. It would mean reshaping his engravings, his very essence, into something new—something unrecorded in the annals of existence.
The pressure mounted. His body screamed in protest, his soul wavering at the threshold. And then—
A hand clamped onto his shoulder. The hooded figure's grip was like iron, his expression cold. "Enough," he said. "If you continue, you may not come back as yourself."
Ryn's breath came in ragged gasps. His hand trembled as he withdrew it from the monolith's surface, breaking the connection. The surge of power receded instantly, leaving behind an aching emptiness in its wake.
The chamber dimmed. The inscriptions dulled, retreating into their ancient slumber.
The stranger sighed, almost disappointed. "So close," he murmured. "But there's no denying it now—this place was waiting for you."
Ryn looked down at his palm. The engravings had changed, subtly, almost imperceptibly. But he could feel the difference. The power within him had evolved—and something had noticed.
Far above them, beyond the surface, the stars themselves shifted.