Echoes of the Past

Malachai sat on the edge of the cot, staring at his open palm. The dim light of the tent flickered against his skin, casting shadows that seemed to shift unnaturally. He clenched his fingers into a fist, then relaxed them again.

He could still feel it. The power.

But it was different now.

His connection to the divine had always been distant, like standing at the threshold of something vast and untouchable. But after that battle—after he had used it with his own hands—it felt closer.

And that unsettled him.

"Lost in thought?"

Malachai glanced up. Riven leaned against the tent frame, arms crossed, his mask pushed up just enough to reveal his smirk. The others were outside, talking over breakfast, leaving the two of them alone.

"Not really," Malachai muttered.

Riven snorted. "Liar." He walked forward, dropping onto the cot across from Malachai. "You went full celestial warrior back there, obliterated a giant abomination with your bare hands, and now you're sitting here staring at your palm like it's got the meaning of life written on it."

Malachai exhaled through his nose, lowering his hand. "I lost something."

Riven raised an eyebrow. "Your sword? Yeah, that thing kinda turned to dust. Shame, it was growing on me."

"No." Malachai looked toward the tent flap, at the faint red glow of the wasteland beyond. "I lost my sight."

Riven tilted his head. "You seem to be looking just fine."

Malachai shook his head. "Not that kind of sight. Before… I could always see the heavens. Even when I was cast down, they were there.Watching. Untouchable, but there." He touched his forehead lightly. "But now, when I look up… it's just the sky. Just red. Just… this."

Riven was silent for a moment. Then he let out a low chuckle.

"Congrats."

Malachai frowned. "What?"

"You're finally living in the same world as the rest of us." Riven leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. "Welcome to mortality, Malachai."

Malachai didn't respond, but something about those words made his chest feel… heavy.

Before he could think on it further, the tent flap swung open, and Senna stuck her head in.

"Get up, both of you," she ordered. "We're leaving soon."

Malachai raised an eyebrow. "Leaving? Where?"

Senna sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Did you already forget? We still have to make it back to camp, and now we've got even bigger problems."

Malachai didn't like the sound of that. "What kind of problems?"

Riven grinned. "Oh, you're gonna love this. Turns out that thing we fought? Not just some random abomination. We found an old pre-purge record of similar ones, and guess what? They're attracted to places full of human activity."

Malachai's expression darkened. "Meaning?"

"Meaning that if we don't warn the camp," Senna said grimly, "they might be sitting on a giant nest of those things."

Malachai stood up immediately.

"We move now."

The wasteland stretched endlessly before them, cracked earth and jagged rock formations painting a landscape of ruin. The group moved quickly, urgency in their steps.

Malachai stayed near the back, his mind still weighed down by what had happened. Every now and then, he caught Riven glancing at him.

He ignored it.

They traveled for hours, the sun burning high in the bloodstained sky. As they moved, Malachai felt something.

A strange pulse beneath his feet.

Faint. Distant.

But there.

He slowed his steps, eyes narrowing. The others were still walking ahead. Riven noticed first, falling back beside him.

"What's up?"

Malachai didn't answer. Instead, he knelt, pressing a palm against the dry earth.

For a moment, there was nothing.

And then—

A whisper.

Not a voice, not words, but an echo. A presence.

Something was beneath them.

He shot to his feet. "Stop."

The others turned. "What?" Senna asked, frowning.

Malachai's gaze locked onto the ground ahead. "We're not alone."

Dax scoffed. "No kidding. We're in the wasteland. There's always something waiting to kill us."

But Malachai wasn't joking.

He felt them.

And suddenly, the ground caved in.

Senna barely had time to shout before a massive chasm split open beneath them. The earth collapsed, sending them tumbling down into darkness.

The fall wasn't as long as Malachai expected, but the landing was rough. Dust and debris filled the air as he pulled himself up, coughing.

Dim, eerie light flickered around them. Strange glowing veins of red and gold pulsed along the cavern walls.

Malachai wasn't the first to speak.

It was Riven.

"…Well. This is new."

The rest of the group groaned as they got to their feet.

Senna rubbed her head. "Where the hell are we?"

Malachai scanned their surroundings. The cavern wasn't natural.

Strange carvings lined the walls—symbols.Some he recognized, others he didn't.

But one thing was certain.

This place was ancient.

Older than the purge.

Older than anything still standing.

And something was waiting for them.

In the distance, deep within the tunnel, a soft glow stirred.

And footsteps echoed from the dark.