The air was different here—thicker, heavy with whispers and the far-off creak of stone against stone. Otoku advanced, his boots sinking into the dark, yielding surface. The cavern went on forever before him, its maw devouring light like a void without end. Jagged stalactites hung from the ceiling, dripping with obsidian liquid that spat upon contact with the ground.
Noctis hovered at his side, wings dulled to a murky purple, the same as the darkness. "This location. it wasn't on any map," the familiar whispered, voice low as if afraid the walls themselves would hear.
Otoku's eyes raked the cavern. Glowing veins of mineral ran rhythmically along the walls, as slow and steady a heartbeat as the ancient. "That's because it shouldn't be here," Otoku answered, voice flat but laced with tension. "The Maw of the Obsidian Depths. it doesn't exist."
A hard laugh came from behind. Iseri materialized, crossbow strapped to her back, eyes sparkling with mischief. "And yet, here we are. Running after fables again."
Maeve moved closer, her fingertips tracing the cavern wall. "Not a fable," she said, voice gentle but firm. "A scar. This is where the first Rift burst. The aftereffects of its corruption still cling."
Otoku's gaze intensified. "And here lies the Aetherian Keystone."
The words rested like a heavy burden in the air, the burden of prophecy and destiny weighing them down. The Keystone was a fragment of the world's very foundational essence, said to bind loops and destroy cycles. It was theorized about by scholars and scoffed at by the afraid. For Otoku, it was necessity incarnate.
"We need to go," Noctis said, his feathers fluffing with frustration. "This site. it's fluid."
Otoku nodded and moved deeper into the shadows. The way in front of him turned and bucked in impossible directions, like the cavern was a living entity, fighting encroachment. With every step, the whispering grew more intense—random pieces of sounds, forgotten names, unuttered regrets.
"Do you hear them?" Maeve breathed, her eyes unfocused and huge. "They. they're weeping."
Iseri glanced back, expression uncharacteristically grim. "Ignore it. It's just the depths playing tricks."
But Otoku knew better. The Maw of the Obsidian Depths was a place where reality frayed, where echoes of past loops lingered like phantoms, unable to move on. A graveyard of broken timelines.
"Stay close," Otoku commanded, his grip tightening on the Companion at his side. "We're not alone here."
And as they moved deeper, there were shadows on the peripheries of sight, and voices grew louder—chanting his name, inviting him forth, pleading for liberty.
They plunged deeper into the Maw without knowing the gazes that lingered in darkness, or the ancient presence stirring at their tread.