The silence underground was suffocating, pressing against me like an unseen force. The further I moved away from the tomb, the heavier the air became. Dust swirled in my wake, disturbed by my cautious footsteps as I navigated through the ruined passageways. The deeper I went, the more the walls around me seemed to shift—not physically, but in presence. As if something, or someone, was watching.
I didn't know what I was searching for, only that something inside me pushed me forward. A whisper in my mind. A pull beneath my skin.
After descending for what felt like an eternity, I found it.
The cavern was enormous, stretching far beyond the glow of the bioluminescent moss clinging to the stone. The ceiling arched high, vanishing into darkness. Ancient markings ran along the walls, etchings of an era long lost to time. Unlike the decay of the ruins above, this chamber felt untouched—pristine, as though it had been waiting.
The floor was smoothed stone, worn down by countless footsteps that had walked this path before me. At the very center of the chamber sat a raised platform, circular, surrounded by faintly glowing symbols that pulsed with an energy I didn't understand.
I didn't hesitate.
I stepped into the center of the platform, lowered myself onto the cold stone, and closed my eyes.
Days Blurring Into Weeks
The first week was nothing but frustration.
I sat in that chamber for hours, unmoving, my mind reaching inward, searching for something. I didn't know what I was expecting—a voice, a revelation, an awakening. Instead, I was met with an unbearable silence that gnawed at my patience.
Nothing happened.
Days passed. My body ached from sitting still for so long. I tried different positions, adjusting my posture, focusing on my breathing, but no matter what I did, there was nothing but the dull hum of emptiness.
I screamed into the void of the cavern once, my voice echoing back at me, mocking my struggle.
But I refused to leave. There was something inside of me—I could feel it, even if I couldn't reach it.
By the end of the second week, my focus started to shift. I realized I had been forcing it. Trying to demand something to reveal itself to me rather than letting it come naturally.
So I stopped trying to control it. I let go.
The First Breakthrough
The first time I felt it, it was like a feather brushing against my skin.
A fleeting sensation, so soft that I almost missed it. It wasn't power, wasn't strength, wasn't something I could physically grasp. It was awareness.
I took a slow breath, sinking deeper into the feeling, exploring it, letting it expand within me. And then I felt it again. Something stirring beneath my skin.
It was faint, like a flicker of light struggling to stay lit in the wind. But it was there.
I pressed on.
The next month became an obsession. I spent every waking moment peeling away at this feeling, diving into it like an abyss. Some days, it felt within my grasp, close enough to touch. Other days, it slipped away entirely, leaving me exhausted and furious.
My body grew leaner, stronger—not from physical training, but from discipline. I was eating only what little supplies I had, rationing as though my very existence depended on it. Sleep was no longer necessary in the way it had once been. Instead, I drifted in and out of something else—a state between wakefulness and dreaming.
And every time I emerged from that trance, I felt it more.
The Second Month—A Change I Couldn't Ignore
One night, as I meditated, something shifted.
At first, I thought it was a draft, a subtle movement of air in the chamber. But then I opened my eyes—and the realization struck me like a blade to the chest.
The air wasn't moving.
I was.
My fingers trembled as I lifted my hand, watching the space around my skin distort, like a thin veil of energy coating my body. It wasn't visible, not fully, but I could feel it—an extension of myself, something that had always been there but had never been awakened.
Essence.
That was the only word that came to mind. Not strength. Not magic. Something deeper.
It wrapped around me, sinking into my skin, as if my body had been dipped in something unseen. Not armor. Not a shield. Something else.
I exhaled slowly, adjusting to the sensation. My movements were lighter, more precise. I could feel the air shifting around me before I even moved.
I clenched my fist.
For the first time since my return, I felt whole.
Emerging from the Depths
After months underground, I finally made my way back to the surface. My footsteps were different—quieter, more deliberate. The air felt thinner, the brightness of the outside world nearly blinding.
But something was wrong.
I had expected the same silence I had left behind.
Instead, I heard screams.
I froze.
My body tensed as the sound hit me again—pain-filled cries echoing through the air. Urgency ignited in my veins, and I moved before I could think, ascending the last passage as fast as my body would allow.
As I reached the surface, the sight before me made my blood turn to ice.
One of the cloaked girls lay on the ground, surrounded by Dracus.
They were toying with her.
She tried to rise, but the largest of them struck her across the face, sending her back down. The others laughed, speaking in guttural tones I could barely comprehend. She was outnumbered. Overpowered. Bleeding.
Something inside me snapped.
I had spent months understanding myself, understanding this new presence within me.
And now, it was ready.
I tightened my grip around the dagger at my side, feeling its familiar weight. My fingers flexed, and the air around me rippled faintly.
The Dracus didn't notice me yet.
But they would.
I took my first step forward.
The battle was about to begin.