The Awakening Below

The tremor deepened, not the kind that rattled the earth—but something older. Selene stumbled as the floor beneath the temple groaned, ancient magic pressing up through the stone like breath after centuries of silence.

"Don't move," the veiled woman warned. Her voice was sharp now, no longer mystical—urgent, almost afraid.

Selene ignored her. "Darius!"

He was up there—close. She could hear him calling her name again, hear the frantic beat of his boots against the stone stairs.

"I have to get him—"

"You step out of the circle, and you forfeit the bond," the woman snapped. "You've already begun the Rite."

"What Rite?"

"The Rite of Memory. Of Truth. And now the gate has opened."

The orb pulsed brighter above the pool, casting eerie shadows across the chamber. Selene turned back toward it, her chest tight. She hadn't meant to trigger anything. She just wanted answers. A path. A way to survive this curse chasing her from all sides.

But now it felt like she'd awoken something no one could put back.

The black water at her feet shifted again—and this time, a figure began to rise from it.

At first, it looked like smoke. Then bone.

Then armor.

An echo. A phantom. A man or what had once been one rose from the pool, his eyes hollow, his presence cold as death. Silver war paint marked his face, but it was his sword that caught her attention. It looked just like hers only older. Hungrier.

Selene's fingers tightened around her weapon.

"What is that?" she asked hoarsely.

"The first Moonblood knight," the woman answered. "He died defending your mother. His oath binds him to her bloodline still."

The figure knelt before Selene without a word.

"You summoned him," the woman continued. "He is yours now if you dare to accept him."

Selene's breath caught.

Mine?

The warrior raised his head slowly. Despite the lifelessness in his eyes, she felt no threat. Only… loyalty. Absolute. Final. It chilled her more than hatred ever could.

And then Darius crashed into the chamber, blood dripping from his knuckles, his chest heaving.

He took one look at the ghostly figure kneeling before Selene and went still.

"What the hell is that?"

Selene stepped between them instinctively. "He's… not attacking."

"He looks like a corpse," Darius growled. "Selene, move."

"No," she said softly. "He's mine."

Darius's eyes locked onto hers. "What does that mean?"

"I don't know yet." She swallowed, still dizzy from the visions. "But I think… I think I just woke up the part of me they tried to erase."

Behind her, the ghost knight rose, silent and still. He didn't speak, didn't move—just waited.

"Can he fight?" Selene asked the woman.

"Oh, yes," the woman said. "But more importantly, he remembers. What you were. What your mother was. What they did to you."

The ground pulsed again.

This time, the Obsidian answered.

A blast of foul energy slammed through the stone walls, and Selene stumbled back as the blackness surged roaring from above like a hurricane made of shadow.

"It found us," Darius said tightly.

The veiled woman turned toward the staircase. "No. It was never looking for you. It was hunting her."

Another tremor. Another scream of wind.

And then the Obsidian dropped into the chamber like a storm wearing a man's shape shifting, monstrous, gleaming with slick black oil and burning hatred.

Selene raised her sword, breath held.

The Obsidian took one step toward her—

And the knight moved.

In one clean motion, the ghost-warrior raised his blade and blocked the strike. Sparks erupted as steel clashed with shadow. The chamber lit up with the impact, the orb above screaming with white light.

Selene staggered back as the two clashed again, and again—silent war against mindless fury.

She turned to Darius. "We have to run."

"I'm not leaving you," he said, eyes on the fight. "And he's not going to hold that thing forever."

"I don't need forever," Selene said. "I just need a way out."

The woman raised her arms and the pool behind her began to drain, revealing a hidden tunnel carved beneath it.

"Go," she said. "Follow the water. The path leads out."

"What about you?" Selene asked.

"My time is over." The woman turned back to the knight and the Obsidian, the flames of old magic curling around her veil. "But yours is just beginning."

Selene didn't argue. She grabbed Darius's hand and they dove into the tunnel, water sloshing around their boots. Behind them, steel and shadow crashed once more, echoing through the temple like war drums.

They ran.

The tunnel twisted and narrowed, choking on roots and vines. But Selene didn't stop. She felt the sword in her hand still pulsing, guiding. The walls glowed faintly with old bloodlines.

At last, they emerged—into the light of morning. Pale and sharp.

The trees were quiet.

The wind was still.

But Selene didn't feel safe.

She stood in the clearing, chest heaving. Darius beside her. Sword still in hand.

The truth had been waiting beneath the ground all along.

And now it was awake.