Echoes of the Abyssal Blade: Path to Free Will-Chapter 92: The Veiled Passage

The air from the newly revealed tunnel was colder than the outside, there was an unnatural chill present in the cave, Jonan felt it wrap around his neck like fingers of a ghost, urging both fear and awe.

Kedes handed him a torch, its flame flickering violently in the draft, casting strange shapes on the tunnel walls, behind them, the rest of the colony prepared their lights; they spoke as little as possible as they lined up together with solemn expressions.

Raerin moved to the front, his spear was raised in the air, and he gave a single nod that passed silently down the line like a wave, with a last look at the place, that they all have been born to, and lived for generations, they are now bidding it farewell with some hesitation.

The passage was slanted steeply, rock-hewn and slippery with water; the walls were streaked with radiant minerals. Every step of the natives resonated like drums in a cathedral, producing rhythms that seemed too intentional to be an accident.

Jonan’s senses were sharp, and he remained alert, considering this was his and the natives’ first time in this place, the deeper they went, the more anxious all of them felt; the world they’d left behind, their home, now began to feel like a dream fading in daylight.

As hours passed in near silence, except for the occasional rustle of unknown movements and sounds, and the group’s hectic movement. Somewhere behind, a child cried out in fear but was quickly soothed by their mother’s shaky but soft voice.

The path eventually opened into a cavern so vast the ceiling disappeared into darkness, glowing moss formed clusters of eerie green light, dotting the floor like stars misplaced.

Here, Raerin signaled a halt, raising a hand and turning to face them all. "Let us all rest here," he said, his voice was calm but it had a hint of tension, and his eyes were fixed on the far edge of the cavern.

Jonan sat beside Kedes, unstrapping his gear and listening to the quiet hum of the stone.

"I didn’t think we’d make it this far," he admitted, not looking up.

Kedes hummed softly, chewing a dried root. "Maybe we were a bit lucky, but here we are, on the edge of reaching back to our so called home." He pointed to a mural half-buried in the rock, etched warriors descending beneath a sunless sky.

The mural depicted a battle with shapes too grotesque to be animal, too alien to be human.

"From these murals, it could be seen that someone from long before had been here," Kedes murmured, "but there’s no sign who they were."

Raerin approached them slowly, his spear tapping against the ground in soft beats.

"These drawings," he said, "are from our ancestors, who made sure of our safety. My great-grandmother spoke of them once."

"She said our life was on the line, we were almost eradicated, if not for the help from the different colonies in different layers, we would have been buried here, forgotten."

He traced a hand across the carving, reverent. "We’ll need more than strength to survive this."

Later, as the others slept, Jonan lay awake, staring into the cavern’s void, he thought of his home in Dreavows, and he wondered if he could ever go back to his home, they way everything’s going now.

Would he ever go back? Or would he, too, become part of a forgotten history?

The fire beside him crackled low, fighting the heavy, ancient darkness pressing in.

Just as he was nodding off to sleep, a jolt of vibration spread across the stone floor.

He sat up sharply, and the others shifted, opening their eyes into the darkness.

"Something’s coming," breathed a young warrior, his eyes agape with fear, and his spear was clutched hard, from the distant end of the cavern, a noise started to swell, slithering, scraping, wet.

Raerin stood immediately, his spear was glowing faintly. "Torches, Spears, Ready yourselves." The colonists obeyed without question; the air itself seemed to hold its breath.

Out of the black emerged creatures like centipedes, but longer than wagons, their carapaces were glistening, dozens of them were present, their eyes glowing blue-white, their legs clattering like hail on stone.

One lunged forward, but was met by a volley of spears by the hunters of colony and a blast of flame from Raerin’s Spear, the beast screeched, recoiling, but it wasn’t alone, more of them poured out like floodwater.

Kedes leapt forward, his spear was spinning in clean arcs, cutting legs and heads with precision.

Jonan followed behind him, his spear was plunging at his enemy, shaking in his grip, but his feet were steady, and his heart was pounding in sync with war cries of those around him.

The natives fought with desperation and unity; they tried to shield themselves from its attacks, they didn’t aim to kill them all, just to survive, just hold long enough to retreat.

Suddenly, a deep rumble echoed from beneath them—the cavern itself growled.

The creatures paused, confused, then bolted toward the walls, vanishing into cracks.

"What just happened?" someone whispered, eyes darting in fear.

Raerin listened to the silence, then said, "Something deeper scared them."

They didn’t rest again that night; instead, they moved quickly into a narrow pass leading from the cavern.

The path sloped downward still, but now twisted like a serpent, walls wet and crumbling.

They passed through the tunnels that seemed too smooth to be natural, as if they were polished long ago.

Jonan touched one with a gloved hand and felt warmth, as if the wall was pulsating with life

Their path finally spilled into a strange forest beneath the earth, trees without leaves, bark made of bone-like stone.

The canopy was made of hanging crystals that glowed faintly, casting fractured light everywhere.

"This is the Shardgrove," Raerin announced quietly. "We’re not the first to enter it."

He pointed to what looked like an altar, overgrown with luminous moss, cracked with age.

Bones littered the grove, human, beast, and some were unidentifiable, they moved carefully now, every step weighed with reverence and dread.

Jonan lagged behind briefly, he was drawn to a faint blue glow near the grove’s edge, he found a small sphere nestled among roots, pulsing like a heartbeat.

As he reached for it, an image burst in his mind—visions of a people crowned in silver flame, they danced around a spire, offering the orb into the sky as voices chanted below.

Then, silence reigned, and the image faded from his mind, Kedes grabbed his shoulder. "Don’t linger too long here. According to the records, this place is notorious for its ominous energy."

Jonan slipped the orb into his pack, feeling it throb against his side, he didn’t know what it was, only that he felt it might lead to something in the future.

Further ahead, the colony was forced to a halt; they were blocked by a crevasse so deep it swallowed light, bridges once spanned it, but they’d long since collapsed into the void.

"We’ll need to build something," said Raerin. "Or find another way around it." Jonan glanced across the gap and saw a ledge, barely visible, leading to a tunnel mouth.

He pointed. "We can anchor ropes there and climb along the ledge." Raerin studied it, then nodded. "Risky, but faster than building it."

With ropes secured and prayers whispered, they began the crossing, inching sideways.

The drop below was a silence that screamed, no wind, no echo, only the abyss.

Jonan led Kedes, who moved like a mountain goat despite his bulk, midway, a tremor shook the rope, stones dislodged and tumbled away silently.

A hunter behind them screamed as the rope snapped loose—he fell, swallowed by the dark, the group froze, grief was etched into their chest, but they had to move.

They finished the crossing in silence, the loss weighed heavily in their minds, the tunnel beyond opened into another chamber, this one filled with glasslike pillars.

In the center stood a throne of obsidian, empty but clearly revered, Raerin stepped forward and bowed low, murmuring in the old tongue.

Kedes leaned toward Jonan. "This must be a king’s chamber once, we cannot be sure of which race." Jonan’s gaze locked on the throne, and there, the orb in his pack began to glow stronger.

Drawn forward, he stood before the throne and slowly removed the orb, as it neared the seat, runes along the floor ignited in searing light.

The chamber trembled, and a voice, neither male nor female, echoed: "Break the throne, and you shall pass into the Underrealms." The colonists fell to their knees, their eyes wide in awe and terror after listening to the unknown voice.

Kedes’s face was ashen, he looked at Jonan, as if asking what he did. "I don’t know," Jonan whispered, holding the orb forward. "But I think it called on this orb." The voice answered without any emotion.

The orb floated from his hands, hovering over the throne, pulsing faster, then, with a sound like shattering glass, it split into three shards.

One drifted to the Throne’s head, another to the chief’s son, Kedes, and the third returned to Jonan.

The voice spoke again: "You carry a fragment of the key, break the throne, and you shall pass." Then the light vanished, and the chamber dimmed once more.

No one moved for a long time, finally, Raerin stood and said, "It seems like this throne is blocking our way, and the only way is to break it."

They then tried to break the throne, but it did not budge, none of them could understand how they would break the throne, even with Raerin’s strength; he was not even able to put up a dent on it.

Behind them, the chamber was sealed, locking them within.