The cave was a tomb of shards, its crystal veins pulsing with a faint, sickly glow that barely pushed back the dark, the crystalline storm howled—a relentless beast of wind and crystal shards that made retreat impossible.
Inside, the group huddled close, their breaths shallow, their eyes darting toward the deeper recesses of the cave where the thing slept. Its presence was a weight, an unspoken threat that pressed against their nerves like a blade held just shy of skin.
Xin sat with his back to the rough wall, knees drawn up, fingers tracing the edge of his dharma wheel. The faint shimmer of ether lingered at his touch, a reflex he barely noticed anymore. Beside him, Belial leaned against the rock, arms crossed, his expression unreadable but his posture tense, like a coiled spring. Raven stood near the entrance, his silhouette sharp against the storm's flickering light, watching the world beyond with an intensity that suggested he expected it to turn on them at any moment. Toren and Lira sat opposite, their packs at their feet, their faces etched with exhaustion but alive with curiosity.
Lira leaned forward, her sharp green eyes glinting in the crystal's glow as she studied Xin. Her voice was a whisper, barely audible over the storm's distant wail. "So tell me… how was your first stage like?"
Xin blinked, caught off guard. "First stage?"
For a moment, confusion clouded his features. The term felt foreign, like a puzzle piece that didn't fit. Lira tilted her head, her lips quirking into a faint, knowing smile.
"Right," she said, her whisper carrying a trace of amusement. "You came here on accident, didn't you? I'm wagering you don't know how this world works."
Xin nodded slowly, his brow furrowing. The shadow of the cave, the storm, the thing sleeping deeper within—it all pressed in, but Lira's question tugged at something else, a memory he'd buried under layers of survival and instinct.
Lira leaned closer, her voice dropping even lower, as if sharing a secret the cave itself might overhear. "Well, how do I start? The way they set the Black Theatre...it's like a play. There's an act, a stage, and… well, we're the Actors playing the roles of characters...in a way."
"Some people are suicidal, some adventurous...but most people come here for hopes that they receive a 'Domain' a blessing from The Theatre, I don't know much about it but that's what my leader is after."
Xin's eyes narrowed slightly, trying to parse her words. Belial shifted beside him, his gaze flicking to Lira but staying silent, listening.
"This is the 0th Act," Lira continued, her whisper steady . "From what I've gathered from my leader, people get their ether after they complete the first stage. And you did just that, didn't you?"
The words hit Xin like a jolt, pulling a memory to the surface—a blur of chaos and blood, of screams in a place that wasn't quite real. His fingers tightened around the dharma wheel, the ether sparking faintly under his touch. "Ah… right," he said, his voice quieter now, almost reluctant. "I passed out right after finishing it, I guess."
Lira's smile widened, though there was a calculating edge to it. She studied him, her thoughts racing.
If someone as frail as this guy survived his first stage, then when I get to mine, it shouldn't be that hard, right?
The idea settled in her mind, a flicker of confidence in a world that offered little. She'd seen Xin's ether manipulation...Perfect, refined, beautiful and it stirred a mix of envy and determination. If he could do it, so could she.
But Xin's expression shifted, a shadow passing over his face. He looked uncomfortable, his gaze dropping to the cave floor as if it held answers he didn't want to see. The memory of his first stage wasn't a triumph—it was a wound, raw and jagged. He could still hear the screams of his comrades, their voices swallowed by the dark. He could still see the Knight of ruin, its armored form towering over the carnage, its chains a blur as it cut through flesh and bone without hesitation. Faces flashed in his mind—people he'd fought beside, people he'd failed to save. The weight of it pressed against his chest, stealing his breath.
Belial noticed. He always did. From his spot against the wall, he caught the way Xin's shoulders tensed, the way his fingers twitched against the dharma wheel.
He leaned forward slightly, his voice low and firm, cutting through the quiet like a blade. "How about we save this story till after we get to safety?"
Lira blinked, startled, and glanced between them. Xin shot Belial a grateful look, the tension in his face easing just a fraction. Toren, who'd been listening silently, nodded in agreement, his weathered face creasing with understanding. "He's right," he murmured. "This isn't the place."
But before anyone could say more, a sound rippled through the cave...a low, grinding shift, like stone scraping against stone. Every head snapped toward the back, where the darkness seemed to thicken. The thing...the massive, coiled silhouette they'd glimpsed earlier—moved. Its bulk turned over, slow and deliberate, the motion sending a faint tremor through the floor. Crystals along the walls flickered, their glow stuttering as if unnerved by the creature's stir.
Xin's breath caught. Belial's hand drifted to his side, though he had no weapon to draw. Raven's posture stiffened, his eyes narrowing as he tracked the movement. Lira's fingers curled into fists, her earlier curiosity replaced by a primal alertness. Toren edged closer to his comrade, his calm demeanor fraying at the edges.
The creature's form became clearer in the dim light—massive, serpentine, its body a fusion of rock and flesh, scales glinting like polished obsidian. It was strong, that much was obvious, its presence radiating a quiet, ancient power that made the cave feel smaller, more fragile. Then, with a slow, deliberate creak, it opened one eye—a slit of molten gold that gleamed in the dark, pinning them where they sat.
Time stopped. No one moved, no one breathed. The eye swept over them, unblinking, assessing. Xin's heart pounded in his ears, the ether at his fingertips sparking faintly, unbidden. Belial's jaw tightened, his body poised to spring, though he knew running was futile. Raven's hand hovered near his belt, a reflex born of instinct, while Lira and Toren pressed closer together, their faces pale but resolute.
For a moment, the eye lingered, its gaze heavy with an intelligence that felt older than the mountain itself. Then, as if deciding they were beneath its notice, the creature exhaled—a slow, rumbling breath that stirred the air—and closed its eye. Its bulk settled, the tremor fading as it sank back into sleep.
The group remained frozen, the silence stretching taut. Xin's pulse still raced, his mind grappling with the sheer scale of what they'd just seen. Belial was the first to move, easing back against the wall with a controlled exhale, though his eyes never left the darkness. "Not worth its time," he muttered, his voice low but steady. "Lucky us."
Lira let out a shaky breath, her bravado returning in fits and starts. "What was that?"
"I don't know," Raven said quietly, his gaze still fixed on the back of the cave.
Toren shook his head, his voice barely above a whisper. "We need to move as soon as the storm breaks. We're not safe here."
"No kidding," Xin said, his tone dry but tinged with relief. He glanced at Belial, who gave a small nod, a silent acknowledgment that they'd dodged something far worse than the storm outside.
The cave fell quiet again, but it was a different kind of silence now—charged, fragile, like the calm before a blade falls. Xin's mind drifted back to Lira's question, to the first stage he'd barely survived. The memory was still there, sharp and vivid, but Belial's interruption had given him an out, and he clung to it. There'd be time for stories later—when they weren't sitting in the shadow of a monster, when the world didn't feel like it was waiting to swallow them whole.