Chapter 16 – The Citadel Below

The swamp was no longer just a place of danger—it had become a graveyard. Not for Kael and Lira, but for those who underestimated them. Yet, the siblings knew their escape from the Vault of the Serpent Kings was only temporary. The Pale Hand would return. And when they did, they wouldn't come with blades alone.

Lira held her arm as they trekked deeper into the marsh, the rain soaking through their cloaks. Kael moved ahead, guided by something that wasn't entirely instinct, nor memory. The relic around his neck pulsed faintly, not warning—leading.

"Where are we going?" Lira asked, stepping over a collapsed stone covered in vine.

Kael didn't look back. "Somewhere they won't follow. A place beneath the swamp. A place older than the Vault."

She didn't question him again.

Hours passed. The sun was swallowed by storm clouds. Then, at the edge of a ravine hidden beneath a curtain of mist and tree roots, Kael stopped. Below them was a shattered staircase that led into blackness. Carvings covered every stone—some eroded, some preserved perfectly by magic. Symbols neither of them could read.

Kael exhaled. "This is it. The Citadel Below."

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The Descent

Their torches flickered with unnatural resistance as they stepped into the underground. The walls breathed faint magic, runes flickering to life as they passed. It wasn't hostile magic. It was old. A memory preserved in stone.

The Citadel wasn't just a ruin. It was a city buried beneath the world. Massive chambers lined with stone towers, broken bridges over endless chasms, and statues of beings too alien to be human. Everything was covered in lichen and dust, but the power here was unmistakable.

Lira touched one of the walls. "This place feels... wrong. Not evil. Just not meant for us."

Kael knelt by a collapsed altar, brushing away dust. Etched into the stone was the mark from his visions—the circle of thorns around a bleeding sun. The symbol of the Firstborn.

"They lived here once," he whispered. "Before the Sundering. Before the gods turned on their own."

Lira glanced around. "And now we walk their graves."

As they explored deeper, they found armories filled with rusted weapons too large for men. Crystals still glowing after millennia. Mosaics depicting winged beings splitting the skies, fire raining from their hands. One mural showed a child born from the blood of a slain god, holding a flame against a world of shadows.

Kael paused before it. That same flame now pulsed inside him.

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Echoes Awakened

In the Citadel's heart, they found the Throne of Bones. A massive obsidian seat surrounded by pillars carved to resemble kings kneeling. A figure sat upon it—a corpse, crowned in silver and vines, wrapped in ancient armor.

Lira stepped back. "We shouldn't be here."

Kael approached. The air was thick with unspoken words, magic so dense it pressed against his skin. The corpse's hand clutched a staff made of coiled silver and blue crystal.

As Kael reached out, the runes across the chamber ignited.

The spirit awoke.

The dead king opened his eyes—empty voids filled with stars. His voice echoed, not through air, but directly into Kael's soul.

> "Child of the Flame... Blood of the Firstborn... You have come too soon."

Kael couldn't speak. The vision overtook him.

Fire and ruin.

Skies torn asunder.

A throne of stars and a blade that sang.

> "The Pale Hand are but shadows. The true enemy stirs beneath the roots of the world. You must gather the remnants... restore the Flame... before the darkness consumes all."

Then, silence. The corpse crumbled to ash. The staff remained.

Kael took it.

Lira caught him as he nearly collapsed.

"What did it say?" she asked.

Kael looked at the staff, which now pulsed with his heartbeat.

"That we have a war coming. And I'm not ready. But I will be."

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To be continued in Chapter 17: Shadows on the Wind