The city was built on secrets.The cathedral was built on bones.But beneath both lies the true heart of Velvora — still beating, still bleeding.
For a moment, there was only silence—except for the sound that wasn't sound.
Thump.Thump.Thump.
The walls beneath the Phantom Cathedral breathed.
No. Not walls. A stairwell—spiraling, descending endlessly—revealed by a glyph-locked door that had opened only when Asher touched it. Not with magic. Not with strength.
But with his presence.
Behind that impossible threshold was stone unlike any they had seen before—blackened ivory, polished to a bone-glass sheen, cracked by age but untouched by time. Each step they took downwards pulsed beneath their feet, not with light, but with a steady heartbeat.
It wasn't just alive.
It was listening.
Rosa's voice broke the silence, her words barely above a whisper. "Do you hear that?"
Lucien didn't answer at first. He simply stared down the stairwell, his torch held tight in one hand, his other readying a glyphcast that crackled with nervous energy.
Then he nodded, slow. "Yeah... and I don't like it."
They continued downward. The green-blue torchlight warped against the walls, casting shadows that moved wrong—too long, too sharp, bending in defiance of geometry. Ancient carvings emerged from the stone, crawling along the edges like veins. Not letters. Not even language. Memory — inscribed in lines of intent, etched into the staircase by forces older than scripture.
And only one of them could read it.
Asher.
Each glyph flared when he passed, responding not to his magic—but to his blood.
"This isn't architecture," Asher thought. "It's an anatomy."
Every instinct screamed at him to turn around. To forget. To seal this place back up and burn the staircase with all the fire Velvora could spare. But something stronger pulled him downward:
The truth.
Not a rumor. Not a myth. The truth buried at the very bottom of Velvora.
The stairway ended in a chamber too vast to be underground.
They stepped into a cavern that pulsed with heat and scent—like the belly of a living beast. The walls were smooth, organic, almost fleshy in texture. Glowing root-like glyphs branched in every direction, pulsing with synchronized rhythm.
And in the center…
Floating, suspended in midair by six enormous black chains carved with divine scripture…
...was a Heart.
Not a symbol. Not a metaphor.
A literal, beating, impossible heart.
Its size dwarfed even the largest cathedral spires. Vein-like tunnels spiraled from it into the walls like roots from a tree. Glyphs crawled across its surface like insects. Every beat spilled dark ichor from beneath its valves—thick, tar-black blood that steamed against the crystal floor far below.
It was beautiful.
It was monstrous.
It was alive.
Rosa's blade was half-drawn. Her voice trembled as she stared up in horror.
"This is… what powers the city?"
Lucien didn't respond immediately. His brow furrowed as he took in the network of glyphs, the scale, the unnatural way the chamber swayed as if breathing.
Then, quietly, he said: "No. I think this is the city."
Asher took one step forward.
The glyphs along the heart flared in response—violently—casting the entire chamber in burning gold light. Rosa and Lucien staggered back instinctively, shielding their eyes.
Asher didn't retreat. He couldn't. The glyphs weren't attacking—they were welcoming.
And then—
His vision collapsed inward.
--------------------------------
Memory Vision — Centuries Ago
He stood at the edge of a crater, at the end of the world.
Smoke and fire filled the sky. The earth was cracked. Civilization had collapsed into cinder.
Before him, a man—hooded, eyes glowing with glyphlight. The First Watcher. A prophet exiled from the upper cities, seeking salvation in the ruins.
And standing across from him was something not of this world.
A being of shadow and many names. Its form was vague. Its presence was absolute.
It spoke without lips, voice like black wind.
"I offer permanence," it said. "In exchange for your line. One per cycle. One per war."
The prophet hesitated.
Then nodded.
The deal was struck.
And from the shadows, it summoned a heart. Not crafted. Not conjured. Stolen.
From the Underrealm.
Buried beneath the first stone of the original cathedral, it began to pulse. And from it—magic spread. Glyphs bloomed like fungus across the foundation. Structures grew around it. The city didn't rise.
It grew.
--------------------------------------------
Present.
Asher fell to one knee, coughing black smoke.
Rosa caught him before he hit the floor, panic etched into her every breath. "Asher! What just happened?!"
He gasped, wiping the ichor from his lips.
"I saw it. The truth."
He turned to face them, eyes glowing with unbearable clarity.
"We're not in a city that's cursed. We're inside the curse."
Rosa went still.
Lucien clenched his jaw.
"Velvora isn't corrupted by something," Asher said slowly. "It is the corruption."
The Heart pulsed again.
But now it sped up.
The chains rattled. Scripture on the bindings began to flake away like dead skin. From deep within the chamber, a voice began to chant.
Not in any living tongue—but a liturgy old enough to predate gods.
A glyph-circle shattered above the heart. One of its seals had broken.
Rosa drew her blade, aura flaring violet. "We can't let that thing awaken. It's not just a battery. It's a brain."
Lucien leveled his arm, glyphs spinning into place like loaded chambers. "Then let's stop it before it remembers how to think."
Asher stood.
He did not shake.
He did not hesitate.
He drew his blade, letting its edge reflect the glyphlight.
"Let's end what should've never been allowed to breathe."
As the three charged toward the Heart, ready to strike, it moved.
Not like a muscle.Not like a beast.
It opened.
A massive, vertical slit cracked open at the heart's core—unveiling a single eye.
It was not human.Not beast.
Divine.
And from that eye, a voice echoed across the chamber—
Deep. Hollow. Absolute.
It spoke Asher's full name.
The one no one alive should know.
[End Of Chapter 114]
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Next Chapter:
Chapter 115 – "The City That Shouldn't Breathe"
The battle begins. Asher, Rosa, and Lucien confront the Heart of Velvora in a fight that may not only unmake the cathedral—but unravel the very foundations of the city itself. To kill the heart is to kill the myth. But some myths don't die quietly.