Into the Abyss

The entrance to the ruins loomed before them, a monolithic gateway etched with symbols that seemed to shift and pulse when looked at too long. The air was thick with something unseen, something that made the back of Kael's mind itch. The weight of the Veil pressed against him, stronger than he had ever felt before. It wasn't like the usual ambient presence—it was alive here. It clung to the stone, to the very air, wrapping itself around his senses.

Kael exhaled slowly, stepping forward. The others followed.

The moment they crossed the threshold, the world behind them seemed to contract. The dim light from the outside flickered and warped, stretching unnaturally before settling into a dull, sickly glow that barely illuminated the corridor ahead. The walls were adorned with ancient carvings, yet none of them made sense—patterns that seemed familiar yet unrecognizable, twisting if he focused on them too long.

Then there was the feeling.

Kael knew what it was like to be hunted. He had felt it too many times now—eyes in the dark, silent figures lurking just beyond sight. But this was different. There were no enemies. No shifting shadows. And yet, he could feel something watching them.

Or maybe... it was the ruins themselves.

They moved carefully, navigating corridors that shouldn't exist. The structure made no sense—hallways that bent into themselves, staircases leading into solid stone, doorways that vanished when they got too close. It was as if the ruins were shifting around them, adjusting to their presence.

Ronan muttered under his breath, one hand resting on the hilt of his blade. "This place is messing with me. Feels like the walls are breathing."

Kael didn't respond. His focus was elsewhere.

He could feel the Veil moving. Not just around him, but through him. It was different here. More tangible. Almost as if he could reach out and shape it, mold it to his will. His instincts screamed at him to try, to grasp onto that sensation and bend it into something useful.

But he didn't know how.

Varian noticed. He had been watching Kael from the moment they stepped inside, eyes sharp and unreadable. He wasn't speaking, wasn't offering guidance. Just watching.

That was, until the ruins decided to wake up.

The walls trembled.

Stone cracked and groaned as something peeled itself from the architecture—twisted figures of shifting stone and liquid darkness. They had no faces, no true form, just jagged constructs held together by Veil energy. Their movements were unnatural, stuttering, like a broken puppet trying to remember how to walk.

And then they attacked.

Kael moved first, instinct guiding him. The Veil surged as he lashed out, but his strike was unfocused—raw power, nothing more. The nearest creature twisted at an impossible angle, avoiding the attack as if anticipating it.

Another lunged. Kael barely managed to evade, but the second he countered, he felt it—his Veil energy wasn't flowing properly. It was like he was dragging it behind him, forcing it rather than commanding it.

He gritted his teeth, dodging another swipe.

Varian, still watching, finally spoke.

"You're forcing it. The Veil isn't a weapon you wield—it's an extension of you. Stop dragging it. Let it follow."

Kael didn't fully understand, but there was no time to question it. He adjusted his stance, trying to feel what Varian meant.

He stopped forcing the energy forward. Instead, he let it move with him. Not an external force, but a part of him.

And the shift was immediate.

His next attack flowed. Instead of blunt power, the Veil responded—weaving into the motion, amplifying it. His strike hit true, carving through the creature's shifting form, causing it to shudder and break apart.

The others hesitated now, reacting differently to him than before.

Varian smirked.

"Good. Now keep going.

Kael kept fighting, but this time, he wasn't just swinging wildly. He was learning.

Every movement became sharper. The Veil wasn't just a force—it was something that listened. When he moved with it rather than against it, it felt effortless, like breathing. It was still rough, unpolished, but it was his now.

Not just borrowed power. A technique forming.

The creatures didn't last much longer. With each successful strike, they broke apart, their unstable forms unable to withstand direct disruption. It wasn't brute force—it was precision.

It wasn't perfect. But it was a start.

After the last creature fell, the ruins went still again.

Kael stood there, breathing hard. His body ached, but his mind was alive with something new—something he understood now.

He didn't just have power. He had control.

Ronan whistled. "Well, that was fun. What the hell were those things?"

Varian didn't answer immediately. He was still watching Kael, eyes gleaming with interest. Then, with a faint chuckle, he turned away.

"You're starting to get it. But you're not ready yet."

Kael frowned but said nothing.

They pressed forward, deeper into the ruins. The air grew thicker, heavy with something unseen. The carvings on the walls became more erratic, more wrong.

Then, as they stepped into the next chamber, the whispers started.

Not from the walls.

From below.

And this time, Kael could almost understand them.