The Forgotten Depths

A heavy silence fell over the group as the distant footsteps echoed through the cavern. The strange, pulsating veins of red and gold along the walls seemed to brighten with every approaching step, like they were responding to the presence ahead.

Malachai's body tensed. He could feel it. Something was down here with them.

Senna gripped her spear tightly, stepping closer to Malachai. Dax and Rex flanked either side, their weapons drawn. Even Riven, normally relaxed, had both hands on his blades, his usual grin replaced by an unreadable expression.

"…Tell me we didn't just fall into some ancient, cursed ruin," Dax muttered.

Riven chuckled, but it was dry. "Wouldn't be the worst thing that's happened this week."

The footsteps stopped.

Then, from the darkness ahead, a voice—cold, distorted, and layered—spoke.

"Who treads upon the forgotten path?"

Malachai's eyes narrowed. He took a cautious step forward, his gaze locked on the shifting shadows beyond the glowing veins. "And who asks?"

For a moment, there was only silence. Then—movement.

From the shadows, something stepped forward.

At first glance, it looked human.A tall, robed figure, its face hidden beneath a hood woven with strange, golden symbols. Its body was wrapped in chains, pulsating with the same eerie light as the veins along the walls.

But as it moved closer, Malachai saw the truth.

Its skin was cracked. Fractured.

Not like flesh—more like stone.Like something that had been shattered… and forced to move again.

Senna instinctively raised her spear. "What the hell is that?"

The figure didn't react. Instead, it took another slow step forward. More figures emerged behind it. At least five, all wrapped in the same glowing chains, their faces obscured.

Then, the first one spoke again.

"You do not belong here."

A wave of pressure filled the air, pressing against Malachai's chest. It was familiar. Something close to divine energy—but wrong.Twisted.

Malachai clenched his fists. "We didn't come here by choice."

The figure tilted its head slightly. Then, in a voice that sent a chill through Malachai's bones, it said:

"Yet here you stand… among the forsaken."

Riven exhaled. "Yeah, I don't like where this is going."

Before Malachai could respond, the figures moved.

Fast. Too fast.

One moment they were standing in the distance, the next—they were upon them.

Senna barely had time to react before one of the chained figures lashed out, its arms moving like whips of stone and energy. She dodged, barely avoiding a strike that cracked the ground where she had stood.

Dax swung his axe, meeting one of the figures head-on, but the moment his blade connected, the chains glowed brighter—and his weapon bounced off as if striking solid metal.

"They're reinforced!" he shouted, stumbling back. "Our weapons aren't cutting through!"

Riven, however, was already moving.

In a blur, he dashed across the battlefield, his blades flashing as he tested their defenses. He slashed at one of the figures, and when his sword barely left a mark, he immediately adjusted—aiming for the glowing chains instead.

The moment his blade struck one of the pulsating links, the figure recoiled.

Bingo.

"They're not invincible!" Riven called out. "Go for the chains!"

Senna, catching on, spun her spear in a tight arc, slamming the butt of it into the glowing bindings of the nearest figure. The chain cracked, and the figure let out a distorted screech.

Malachai observed all of this without moving.

He watched the way the figures moved. The way their bodies reacted to pain. The way the energy in the chains fluctuated.

Then, as another one lunged for him, he finally stepped forward.

He raised his hand—and for the first time since the battle with the abomination, he let the divine essence flow through him.

Light erupted from his palm.

The chained figures shuddered violently.

Malachai narrowed his eyes. "You're not just remnants."

The figures froze.

He took another step forward, feeling the weight of something click into place in his mind.

"You were once angels."

The air shifted.

For the first time, the lead figure reacted—its cracked, hidden face turning toward Malachai sharply.

And then, the chains began to move on their own.

Suddenly, the battlefield was alive with twisting golden links.

The chains around the figures extended and snapped outward,moving like whips, like living entities that coiled through the air, striking at anything within reach.

Dax barely managed to block one, but the force sent him flying. Rex was forced onto the defensive, using his shield to deflect a series of rapid, crushing blows.

Senna rolled out of the way, her spear darting in to cut more chains—but there were too many.

Malachai gritted his teeth. They weren't fighting individuals.

They were fighting a single entity, spread across multiple bodies.

Riven leaped from a rock formation, dodging a sweeping chain strike midair before landing on the back of one of the figures. He stabbed his blade into a weak point in the chains—

The figure let out a gurgled cry—and then collapsed into dust.

Riven smirked. "One down."

But Malachai wasn't focused on that.

He was focused on the moment before the figure had faded.

The way its chains had unraveled.

The way its energy had tried to flee.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

And when he opened them again—

He could see them.

The souls.

The energy trapped within the chains, the remnants of what had once been divine.

And in that moment, he understood.

Malachai stepped forward.

Ignoring the warnings of his teammates, he walked straight into the chaos, his body moving instinctively.

A chain lashed toward him—he caught it in his bare hand.

Golden light burned against his palm, but he didn't let go.

Instead, he spoke.

A single word.

"Rest."

And the chain shattered.

A cry of something ancient and broken filled the cavern.

The lead figure staggered back, its remaining chains flaring wildly.

Malachai looked up, his white hair glowing in the dim red light.

He raised his hand.

And, for the first time, he did what no angel had ever done before.

He released them.

The moment his power touched the chains, they unwound—not violently, not by force—but by will.

The figures stopped attacking.

One by one, they collapsed, their forms dissolving into dust, their chains falling away like dead leaves.

And then—silence.

Malachai exhaled slowly, lowering his hand.

The others stared at him, speechless.

Riven, after a long pause, let out a breath.

"…Alright. Now I definitely have questions."