With each step they took, the air grew thicker.
The catacombs beneath the Silverwind Archives emitted a breath that had not been breathed for decades—wet, icy, and tinged with something old and uneasy. Following the thudding rhythm of their heartbeats and the flickering flame of his lantern, Serafina and Roman made their slow descent.
The silence grew more warped the farther they went. Voices from a dream, barely audible, licked the stone walls in whispers.
"Moonless one... forsaken... rise again..."
Roman stopped close to a dilapidated archway with runes that the Allied Clans had long forbidden. He remarked, "These markings... they match the ones I saw in the Ashen Reaches years ago."
Serafina traced a ragged spiral with her fingers. "Like breadcrumbs for those brave or broken enough to follow, he left bits of his creed behind."
The lantern flickered violently and died as they went under the arch.
They were briefly thrown into the dark.
The voice then emerged.
Low. male. old. And incredibly serene.
"You don't believe, but you carry the truth."
A tall, robed man with a half-burned face and a knucklebone chain around his neck stepped out of the darkness. His right eye glowed amber like a cursed wolf in the moonlight, while his left eye was a cold, foggy blue.
Roman moved forward, instinctively protecting every muscle in his body. "Who are you?"
The figure leaned forward a little. "Acolyte Darion." The Hollow Flame's Keeper. Shepherd of the return and witness to the First Mark.
Serafina's hold on the scroll became more firm. "You have been residing under Silverwind?"
"I have been expecting." Like a piece of dry parchment, his voice cracked. awaiting the wolves' forgetfulness. To fatten kingdoms. for the spirits to once more be hungry.
Roman snarled, "You participated in the Hollow Alpha's uprising."
It was chilling to see Darion smile. When he needed quiet, I was his voice. When the packs threw him into the dark, his flame
He took a step toward her. "And now... the forest is burning once more."
Serafina lifted her blade, its edge glinting in the dim light from a crystal set with a rune carved into the wall. "Then convey to your forest that Nightwind is not afraid of darkness."
Darion's hand shot out with strength instead of claws. They both flew backwards as a forceful pulse blasted from his palm.
With blood on his lip, Roman fell to the ground and rolled. Serafina quickly recovered and used her training to cut through Darion's hood with a precise slash. However, his skin glowed like smoke where the blade went.
"One of the shadow-binders," Roman growled.
Darion chuckled. "You battle with steel and teeth. However, we battle with memory.
The floor cracked, exposing beneath them a symbol etched in ash—another spiral, surrounded by glyphs.
Roman took Serafina by the arm. "He is attempting to ensnare us in a vision trap!"
Serafina pushed the scroll into the middle of the sigil. "Let's then create a new memory for him."
The scroll burst into dazzling silver-blue flames as soon as it made contact with the ash. Darion flinched back, howling as the ritual was consumed by the flames, and the glyphs screamed.
The room shuddered. The walls were cracked. The murmurs became cries.
A blast of ancient wind sealed the passage behind them as Roman pulled Serafina through the crumbling arch just in time.
Breathing heavily, they fell to the bottom of the stairwell in the Archive.
Between sobs, Serafina uttered, "He's evidence that the cult is still active, but he's not the Hollow Alpha."
Roman grimly nodded. "He won't be the last, either."
Serafina took Roman's hand as they gazed at the sealed vault behind them.
"We require allies. Additionally, we must be honest.