Kael awoke to darkness.
Not the soft, natural dark of night, but a suffocating, oppressive blackness that seemed to press against his skin. The air was cold, thick with the scent of damp earth and something far older — ancient stone and faded blood.
His head throbbed. Every muscle ached. His limbs were bound by coarse, sinewy ropes made not from hemp or vine, but from something slick and cold. He could feel it pulse faintly beneath his touch, as though it lived.
A voice whispered in the dark.
"Another stray… you monsters grow bold, trespassing here."
Kael's eyes adjusted slowly. Pale shapes drifted at the edge of sight — formless, shifting. The clearing he'd fled into wasn't a clearing at all. It was a burial hollow, a sunken place where bones jutted from the earth like broken teeth. Around him, hunched figures cloaked in tattered shrouds moved in silence.
Not monsters. Not men.
Something in-between.
A tall figure stepped forward, its face hidden behind a mask of bleached bone. Eyes like dying stars peered out from within.
"What name do you wear, beast?" it rasped.
Kael coughed, blood flecking his lips. "Kael," he growled. "I didn't come looking for trouble."
The figure tilted its head.
"Yet trouble finds you, child of earth and shadow."
Kael's gaze hardened. "Kill me or let me go. I won't beg."
A soft, bitter chuckle echoed through the chamber.
"We do not kill. Not yet. The surface world sends its murderers, but you… you are different. Half-blood. Outcast. Alone."
Kael's stomach twisted.
"How do you know what I am?"
Another voice spoke, older, brittle as old wood. From behind the tall figure stepped a stooped crone, her hair hanging in matted strands. Eyes like mirrors stared at him.
"Because we knew your kind. Long before the men came with their swords and lies. Before the kingdoms rose. When monsters and men shared the earth."
Kael's breath caught.
"Lies," he muttered. "Adventurers say monsters preyed on humans, devouring villages, spreading darkness."
The tall figure let out a low, mournful sigh. "And who told them that story, boy? Those who hungered for land. For power. It was easier to hunt us than to share the world."
A memory flared in Kael's mind — his mother's face, her voice pleading with unseen hunters before they cut her down. The scent of iron in the air. The burning huts. The sneering laughter of men who wore holy symbols as they raised their blades.
His fists clenched.
"What do you want from me?" Kael asked through gritted teeth.
The crone stepped closer, one gnarled hand brushing his forehead. A strange warmth flooded him. Visions flickered behind his eyes — ancient battles, pacts made in blood, monsters standing side by side with men before betrayal tore them apart.
"We want nothing," she whispered. "But the world does. The time comes when the forgotten shall rise. You stand at a crossroads, Kael. You can run, as you always have… or you can fight, and become more than you were born to be."
Kael's breathing slowed. The ropes fell away, dissolving into mist.
The tall figure pointed to a narrow tunnel behind them.
"Leave now, before the others wake. They are not so merciful."
Kael stood on unsteady legs, his mind a storm. He hesitated.
"I… I don't understand. Why spare me?"
The tall figure's eyes gleamed.
"Because you will understand. Soon."
Kael turned, heart pounding, and fled into the tunnel. Shadows pressed close, the earth trembling faintly beneath his feet. Behind him, the figures watched in silence.
Far above, in the burning woods, the surviving adventurers gathered, speaking of the beast's death. Of their near escape.
And in the darkness below, ancient things stirred.