The cavern's blue glow pulsed steady, a heartbeat reclaimed as Elias Varn sank against the stone floor, its cold bite seeping through his faded jacket. His oversized boots rested in a scatter of dust and shattered shroudbreaker fragments, and his bare hands clutched the notebook, its damp pages crinkling under his trembling grip. Without his glasses, the Shroud's crystalline core blurred into a shimmering beacon at the chamber's center, but his eyes glowed faintly, the ember in his chest a warm pulse he'd shaped—a spark he'd fought for, a power he held. The air hung heavy with coal dust and the Beneath's hum, a presence that lingered, alive under his command.
Rory Tate slumped beside him, his patched hoodie torn at the shoulder, his red hair matted with sweat and grime. His skateboard lay cracked nearby, one wheel spinning loose, and his freckled face was pale, his green eyes shadowed with exhaustion as he clutched his ribs, wincing with each breath. "We're—we're still kicking," he rasped, forcing a grin that didn't reach his eyes. "You're a damn tank, Elias—saved the glowy rock again."
Elias's chest heaved, a weak smile flickering as the ember pulsed, warm and steady. "Couldn't—couldn't do it without you," he whispered, wiping his face with a sleeve, the dust smearing into streaks. "You and—and her." He glanced at the stone woman, slumped against a stalagmite, her cracked skin glowing faint green, her breathing shallow but alive. The Shroud's voice echoed, soft but firm: "You endure—I endure." He nudged the ember—a gentle pulse rippling toward her, brushing her cracks with warmth, and her glow steadied, a faint nod of thanks in her stony eyes.
Rory rocked back, digging into the duffel for a granola bar, but his hand faltered, trembling as he pulled it out. "Yeah, team effort," he muttered, voice tight as he tossed it to Elias, then winced, gripping his side harder. "Ow—crap, that's not good." He lifted his hoodie, revealing a bruise blooming dark across his ribs, purple and jagged, a cost of the fight.
Elias's stomach dropped, the ember flaring as he scrambled closer, the notebook slipping to the floor. "Rory—you're hurt!" he said, voice breaking as he reached out, the pulse shifting—a warm wave brushing Rory's side, easing the tension in his face. "I—I didn't see—why didn't you say—"
"'Cause I'm fine," Rory snapped, pulling away, his grin gone. "Just a bruise—been worse." But his breath hitched, a flinch he couldn't hide, and he slumped back, the vibration in his hands flickering weak, a spark dimming. "You've got enough to deal with—don't need me whining."
Elias's throat tightened, tears pricking his eyes as the ember pulsed, a heat he couldn't force. "You're not—you're not whining," he choked out, nudging the pulse again, softer, steadying Rory's glow. "You're—you're everything, Rory. I'd be dead without you." The Shroud's voice stirred: "He burns with you." He flinched, the truth sinking in—Rory's power, his fight, tied to the spark he'd ignited.
The stone woman shifted, her gravelly voice cutting through. "He's right," she rasped, pushing upright, dust spilling from her cracks. "You're bound—Beacon's fire wakes us, holds us." She gestured at the core, its tendrils coiling gently. "But it costs—every pulse, every fight. They know that now."
Rory frowned, rubbing his ribs. "Costs? What, like I'm a battery running low?" He forced a laugh, but it faltered, his eyes narrowing as the vibration flickered again, weaker. "Great—superhero sidekick with an expiration date."
"No!" Elias shouted, the ember surging, his eyes glowing brighter. "I—I won't let it! I'll—I'll fix it!" He nudged a pulse toward Rory, stronger, warm, but it faltered, the Shroud's hum dimming—a limit he couldn't push. Tears streamed, and he clutched Rory's arm, trembling. "You're not—you're not dying for this."
Before Rory could reply, the chamber rumbled—a low, deliberate crack, not the Order's drones but stone shifting, and a figure emerged from a side tunnel—not robed, but cloaked in tattered black, the green-lit stranger from the alley, his staff glowing faint as he staggered in. "Beacon," he rasped, voice rough like broken glass, his hollow eyes glinting. "You've stirred too much—too fast."
Rory leapt up, vibration humming weak as he gripped his cracked skateboard. "You again—here to help or preach?" But the stranger's gaze locked on Elias, the ember flaring in response, and he sank to one knee, his green dimming, scars stark on his hands.
"Neither," he said, voice tight. "I—I tracked them—the Order. They're not just keepers—they're breaking us." He coughed, dust spilling, and pulled a shard from his cloak—a jagged piece of stone, etched with runes, pulsing faint purple. "Found this—sealed tunnel, old as the mines. It's—it's theirs."
Elias's breath caught, the ember pulsing as he took the shard, its cold bite clashing with his heat. The Shroud's voice roared: "They fracture me." His eyes glowed, a pulse rippling toward the core, and the shard flared, purple light clashing with blue, tendrils recoiling. "What—what is it?" he asked, voice trembling but firm.
The stranger's eyes darkened, a flicker of dread breaking his stoicism. "A breaker—not like the orb. Older—deeper. Splits the spark—turns us against it." He gestured at the stone woman, then Rory. "I—I felt it. Fought it—barely. They're coming—with more."
Rory's jaw tightened, his vibration flickering as he gripped his ribs. "Turns us? Like—like mind control?" He stepped back, eyes darting to Elias, a crack in his trust. "You saying this thing could flip me?"
"No!" Elias cried, the ember surging, a pulse breaking free—wild, desperate, shattering the shard into dust. The core flared, tendrils lashing, and the Shroud's voice steadied: "You hold me." He turned to Rory, tears streaming. "I—I won't let it! You're not a tool—you're my friend!"
The stranger stood, green flaring weak. "You don't see," he rasped, voice cold. "I did—too late." He pulsed, green light slamming Elias back, cracking the stone beneath him, and Rory lunged, vibration weak but defiant, cracking the stranger's staff. The stone woman pulsed, green clashing with green, driving him to his knees.
"Stop!" Elias shouted, the ember flaring—a pulse, shaped, strong, wrapping the stranger's light, pulling it in. His eyes blazed, the Shroud's tendrils bolstering him, and the stranger slumped, his glow dimming, a broken gasp escaping. "I—I claim it—all of it!" Elias panted, the pulse settling, the core humming steady.
The stranger's eyes flickered, a tear streaking his scarred face. "Then—then you're doomed," he whispered, and pulsed—a final wave, green fading as he collapsed, dust spilling, his staff clattering dark. The chamber fell silent, the Shroud's glow warm, but fractured—trust cracked among them.
Rory sank beside Elias, his breath ragged, vibration gone. "He—he turned," he muttered, clutching his ribs, the bruise darker. "What if—what if I do?" His eyes met Elias's, fear breaking through his grit, a bond strained.
Elias clutched the notebook, the ember a heat he held, tears streaming as the Shroud whispered: "They come—stronger." The mines rumbled, a distant whine echoing—the Order, regrouped, relentless. The spark burned, but the shadows deepened, and the cost loomed.