Chapter 27 – Bones of the Divine

Rin's steps echoed in the silent darkness of the catacombs beneath the flame gate. The air was thick with an ancient, oppressive weight, as if the very walls of the earth had witnessed millennia of suffering and buried secrets. The ground beneath his feet seemed to pulse with the quiet thrum of forgotten power, reverberating with the echoes of immortal beings long dead. The catacombs stretched before him like an endless labyrinth of crypts, each one sealed with bones—bones that had once belonged to gods, to immortals who had defied the heavens and walked paths that led to their own demise.

The deeper Rin ventured into the catacombs, the colder it became. The dim light of his soul lantern flickered weakly in the dense shadows, casting strange, elongated reflections on the walls. Around him, skeletal remains of long-dead immortals littered the ground, some whole, some shattered, their bones yellowed with age, yet still exuding a strange, solemn power. The stench of death was pungent, but it was not the decay of mortal flesh; this was something older, more eternal, as though these bodies had never truly gone cold.

He continued onward, drawn by a pull he couldn't explain. The further he walked, the more he felt an unsettling presence, as if the very atmosphere was charged with waiting, anticipation. His hand rested on the hilt of Ny'xuan, the sentient dagger that had become both a tool and a companion in his journey. The dagger whispered in the back of his mind, a soft hum of energy that seemed to match the rhythm of his heart.

And then, ahead of him, he saw it.

A sarcophagus.

At first glance, it seemed like any other, an ancient stone box covered in carvings that were faded with time. But as Rin stepped closer, the difference became clear. This was no ordinary burial site. The sarcophagus was made of bone—divine bone. Large, jagged pieces of ancient bones, white as alabaster but darkened at the edges with centuries of dust, were interwoven into an intricate pattern that resembled both a cage and a sanctuary. The bones hummed faintly, resonating with a power that seemed to reach into his very soul.

A strange sense of reverence washed over Rin as he stood before it. His gaze lingered on the sarcophagus for a moment, studying the faint engravings on the surface. It was adorned with symbols he did not recognize—ancient runes, etched deep into the bone, marking it as something of great importance. Something that had endured beyond time.

Suddenly, the air shifted, and Rin felt a wave of pressure against his chest. It was not the weight of death; it was the weight of something more. Something that was dying.

The sarcophagus trembled slightly, and with a sound like the groan of the earth itself, it slowly opened.

Rin's breath caught in his throat as a figure emerged—a being wrapped in tattered robes of shadow, the faint outline of a face visible beneath a hood that had long since decayed. The figure was not alive, not in the way that mortals and immortals were. It was a corpse, yet somehow still a presence, an echo of life.

It spoke, its voice a rasp, as if the very sound of its words was struggling to survive.

"You... you have come."

Rin stepped back instinctively, a chill running down his spine. The figure's eyes were dark, hollow sockets, but within them, there was a flicker of something. A remnant of consciousness, struggling to stay tethered to the world of the living.

"Who are you?" Rin asked, his voice steady despite the unsettling presence.

The figure's skeletal hand rose, trembling, to point toward the sarcophagus.

"A god... once. But no longer." The figure's voice rasped, dry and brittle like dead leaves being crushed underfoot. "I... was a member of the Endborne. I was... one who chose the end. Chose to die. But not by the heavens' hand."

Rin frowned, stepping closer, the words unfamiliar yet resonating with something deep within him.

"The Endborne?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

"A cursed lineage," the figure whispered, its hollow voice filled with both sorrow and defiance. "We are those who ascended not by conquering life, but by embracing death. Those who... understood that death is not something to be feared, but something to be embraced. We defied the heavens, the very foundation of their rule. We walked the path of finality, and in doing so, we rejected the chains of immortality."

The figure's voice faltered, and Rin could sense its weakening presence. It was dying, and it knew it.

"The heavens... they fear us," the figure continued, its breath shallow. "They hunt us... because we remind them of endings. They hold power not through creation, but through the fear of death. The fear that... that death will one day claim them too. We... the Endborne, are their greatest threat."

The figure's hand fell, and it slumped back against the sarcophagus, its form beginning to disintegrate before Rin's eyes, like dust in the wind. But there was something left behind—something that caught the light of Rin's lantern.

A halo.

It was made of bone, pure and radiant, a ring of divine bone that pulsed with an ancient energy. It hovered above the figure's head, glowing softly with a pale, ghostly light. It was not a simple relic; it was something more. It was a symbol. A symbol of defiance, of choice, of the death that could never be controlled.

The figure's voice, now barely a whisper, reached Rin's ears one final time.

"Take it," it rasped. "Take the Bone Halo. It is... proof. Proof that an immortal died... willingly. That even the gods can... embrace the end."

And with that, the figure's form disintegrated completely, turning into ash that floated into the air, dissipating into the cold darkness of the catacombs.

Rin stood in stunned silence for a moment, his mind racing. His eyes locked onto the Bone Halo, hovering in the air before him, pulsing softly. The weight of its significance pressed down on him, filling him with an understanding he had never known.

The Bone Halo.

A symbol of mortality, feared by the heavens. A proof that immortality could be rejected, that even gods could choose death. It was a symbol that shattered the illusion of eternal life, a sign that even those who had risen to the heavens could fall.

Rin reached out, his fingers brushing against the Bone Halo. As soon as he made contact, a rush of energy surged through him, filling his body with a strange warmth. The halo settled into his palm, lightening the air around him. He could feel the power of it, the weight of the choices it represented, and for a moment, he understood.

The Endborne.

They were beings who ascended by embracing finality, by rejecting the heavens and all they stood for. They understood that death was not something to be feared, but something to be embraced. And Rin, for the first time in his life, felt the stirring of that same power within him.

To be continued…