The dungeon breathed — not in the way of the living, but like a dying god whispering through cracked walls and trembling roots. The air was thick with magic, old and sour. Indra moved cautiously, his boots crunching over shards of old sigils, each fragment humming faintly as if recognizing his presence.
Kaelari walked beside him, silent but alert. Her earlier wounds were patched, though a smear of dried blood still clung to her jaw. They had rested briefly after the monster fight, but there was no time for real recovery. The deeper they ventured, the heavier the silence became.
"This place is ancient," she murmured, running her fingers along the moss-covered wall. "Older than the Gauntlet. Maybe even older than the East Empire itself."
Indra's gaze drifted upward. The ceiling was lost to shadow, but faint glyphs pulsed above — not lit by torchlight, but by recognition. As if they saw him. Knew him.
He halted.
In the center of the next chamber, a pedestal rose — broken in half, vines and time having devoured it. Upon its fractured stone rested a crystalline shard, glowing with soft blue fire.
The moment his foot crossed the threshold, the seal on his forearm — the sixth one — pulsed.
A voice whispered inside his mind.
"Only those marked by the storm may awaken what was bound in blood."
He reached out instinctively — but a vision slammed into his mind like a tidal wave.
A battlefield scorched black. Cities floating in the sky. Twelve noble banners torn by wind. A young boy, screaming as a golden figure fell into the abyss. A mountain carved by thunder. A gate that bled.
Indra gasped and staggered.
"Indra!" Kaelari caught him before he fell. Her eyes scanned him. "You're burning up."
"No… I'm remembering." His voice was low, hoarse. "There's something beneath this dungeon. A deeper chamber. It's… watching us."
Before she could reply, the floor beneath them shifted.
The pedestal cracked — and the walls retracted with an agonized groan, revealing a spiral stairway of obsidian descending into endless dark.
A trial, hidden even from the Gauntlet.
Kaelari readied her blade. "Should we—?"
"I have to," Indra cut in. "The seventh seal… it's down there."
Without another word, he stepped onto the first stair.
A gust of cold, ancient air hit him — filled with dust, rot, and forgotten thunder.
As they descended, torches on the wall lit one by one, igniting with a blue stormflame. Murals lined the spiral path, revealing a story:
• A warrior with storm in his blood.
• A betrayal by the celestial courts.
• A kingdom buried by its own sky.
At the bottom — a door.
Massive. Bound in iron and etched with Vedic runes, but far older than any temple. The seventh seal burned in response. It wanted him to open it.
"We go in together," Kaelari whispered.
He nodded.
Placing his palm on the door, the storm in his veins surged.
The door screamed open.
And from beyond it — darkness stared back.