Chapter 11: Whispers of the Forgotten

The silence that followed the shadow's voice was deafening. Elliot and Seris stood motionless, their breath uneven as the last echoes of the whisper faded into the cavernous chamber. The ruins felt heavier now, as if the weight of something unseen had shifted, watching them from the dark corners where light refused to reach.

Seris was the first to move, her grip tightening on her dagger as she scanned the chamber. "We need to go," she murmured.

Elliot, still gripping the shard tightly, turned to her. "Did you hear that?" His voice was barely above a whisper, as if saying it too loudly would summon something else from the void.

Seris hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. "Yeah. And I don't want to stick around to hear it again."

Elliot's gaze flickered back to the pedestal where the second shard had rested moments ago. The moment he had touched it, the ruins had reacted—the constructs had awakened, the symbols had glowed, and that voice...

Something had changed.

He glanced at Seris, who was already moving toward the archway at the far end of the chamber, her boots making little sound against the stone floor. Her expression was unreadable, but Elliot noticed the way her shoulders tensed, the way her fingers hovered near the hilt of her blade even when there was no immediate danger.

She had been wary before, but now? Now it felt different.

They stepped through the archway into a long corridor lined with murals. The walls were covered in depictions of battles—armored figures wielding blazing weapons, creatures that defied the laws of nature, and a central figure holding something aloft—a shard, just like the ones Elliot now carried.

He slowed his steps, reaching out to trace the carvings with his fingertips. "This is history," he murmured. "Real history. But why is it here, buried beneath ruins in a broken world?"

Seris stopped a few steps ahead, her eyes fixed on a section of the wall. "Because history isn't always meant to be remembered."

Her voice was quiet—too quiet.

Elliot turned toward her, catching the faintest shift in her expression. It was gone before he could place it, but for that fleeting moment, she had looked almost... troubled.

"Seris?" he asked, stepping closer.

She exhaled sharply and turned away, shaking her head. "Nothing. Just keep moving."

Elliot frowned but didn't press further. Instead, he took a mental note of her reaction. Something about this place, about these ruins, was affecting her in a way she wasn't willing to admit. And that meant one thing—she knew more than she was letting on.

The corridor led them to another chamber, smaller than the last but no less imposing. At its center stood a circular dais, its surface carved with interwoven symbols that pulsed softly with an eerie violet light. It looked like a portal, but inactive—waiting.

Elliot knelt beside it, studying the engravings. "I think this is—"

The walls trembled. A distant rumbling echoed through the chamber, growing louder with each passing second. Dust rained from the ceiling as cracks spiderwebbed along the stone.

Seris swore under her breath. "We need to leave. Now."

The ground beneath the dais shifted, and from the darkness beyond the chamber, a sound emerged—not footsteps, not stone grinding against stone, but something... breathing.

Elliot and Seris exchanged a look.

Then, the shadows at the edge of the chamber moved.