The underways beneath Orhyn stretched for miles, a labyrinth of forgotten tunnels and ancient Riftborne architecture. As Kael led the group deeper into the gloom, the city above felt like a distant memory—one filled with danger, but also with hope. Down here, the air was thick with dust and the lingering charge of old Vein lines, the silence broken only by the soft crunch of boots and the occasional drip of condensation from fractured pipes overhead.
Jessa's datapad projected a faint blue map onto the wall, its lines flickering as she recalculated their route. "We're here," she whispered, pointing to a blinking dot. "If we keep heading east, we'll reach the old Riftborne transit hub. From there, we can access the lower levels beneath the citadel."
Torin grunted, his voice echoing off the stone. "Assuming the Aetherlords haven't collapsed the tunnels. Or set traps."
Lysara, walking just behind Kael, kept her hand on the hilt of her Vein-forged blade. "They're arrogant, but not stupid. They know these tunnels are unstable. They'll rely on patrols aboveground and Vein sensors at the choke points."
Kael nodded, feeling the weight of the relic in his satchel. Since their escape from the Remnant enclave, the relic's pulse had grown stronger, synchronizing with his own heartbeat. It was as if the device was guiding him, whispering directions only he could hear. Sometimes, the whispers became images—flashes of the city as it once was, or visions of Fia, her eyes burning with silent determination.
They moved in silence for a while, the only sound the soft hum of Vein energy running through the walls. Kael found himself tracing the faded glyphs with his fingers, feeling the echoes of the past. Each symbol seemed to vibrate with a story—a memory of the Riftborne who had built these tunnels, who had walked these paths long before the Sundering.
At a fork in the passage, Lysara paused, holding up a hand. "Wait."
The group froze. In the distance, Kael heard the faint clatter of boots—Aetherlord patrols, their movements precise and methodical. Lysara motioned for everyone to press against the wall, her eyes scanning the darkness.
The patrol passed, their Vein lanterns casting eerie shadows that danced along the tunnel walls. Kael held his breath, willing himself to become invisible. The relic's pulse slowed, matching the rhythm of his fear.
When the patrol was gone, Lysara exhaled. "That was too close. We need to move faster."
They hurried on, the tension in the group palpable. Jessa's hands trembled as she checked her datapad, and even Torin seemed on edge, his usual bravado replaced by grim determination.
After what felt like hours, they reached a massive chamber, its ceiling lost in darkness. In the center stood a dormant Riftborne transit platform, its surface etched with intricate patterns that shimmered in the relic's light. The machinery was silent, but Kael could feel the potential energy thrumming beneath the stone.
Jessa approached the control panel, her fingers flying over the ancient keys. "I think I can get it working. The power lines are degraded, but if Kael can channel the Vein through the relic—"
Kael stepped forward, placing the relic in a shallow depression at the center of the platform. Instantly, the glyphs flared to life, casting shifting patterns of light across the chamber. Kael closed his eyes, reaching for the connection he'd felt before.
The Vein surged through him, a torrent of memory and power. He saw flashes of the city as it had been—streets alive with Riftborne, their laughter echoing through the corridors; the citadel, a beacon of hope and knowledge; Fia, standing at the heart of it all, her presence both commanding and compassionate.
Then the vision shifted. He saw the Sundering—the sky fracturing, the Vein lines snapping like brittle glass, the world descending into chaos. He felt the pain of loss, the weight of a thousand voices crying out in terror and rage. And through it all, he sensed the presence of the Aetherlords, their hunger for power driving them to unimaginable cruelty.
Kael staggered, breaking the connection. Lysara caught him, her grip steady. "What did you see?"
He shook his head, trying to steady his breathing. "The past. The Sundering. Fia… she's still alive, but she's suffering. The Aetherlords are using her as a power source. We have to reach her."
Torin's jaw tightened. "Then let's get this platform running and move."
Jessa nodded, rerouting the power lines. "Almost there. Kael, I need you to focus the Vein through the relic. Just like before."
Kael knelt by the platform, placing his hands on the glyphs. He closed his eyes, letting the Vein flow through him. The relic responded, its light intensifying until the entire chamber was bathed in a gentle blue glow.
The platform shuddered, gears grinding as ancient mechanisms awoke. For a moment, Kael felt himself suspended between worlds—caught between the memory of what was and the reality of what remained.
Then the machinery settled, and the platform was ready.
Jessa checked her datapad. "We have enough power for one jump. After that, the lines will burn out."
Lysara nodded. "We'll have to make it count."
They gathered on the platform, Lysara adjusting the controls while Jessa monitored the power flow. Torin took up a defensive stance, eyes on the entrance.
As the machinery whirred to life, Kael felt the Vein surge through him—a river of energy, both exhilarating and terrifying. The relic glowed, and for a moment, he felt Fia's presence, distant but unmistakable.
*Find me,* her voice echoed in his mind. *Hurry.*
The world blurred. Light and shadow twisted around them, and Kael felt himself pulled through a tunnel of memory and possibility. For an instant, he saw the city from above—the citadel, the Vein lines, the prison where Fia waited.
Then they were elsewhere.
The chamber was smaller, the air thick with the scent of ozone and dust. Above them, Kael could hear the distant rumble of machinery and the faint, rhythmic pulse of Vein energy.
Jessa checked her datapad. "We're under the central district. The citadel's less than a kilometer away."
Lysara exhaled, relief and tension mingling in her voice. "We made it. But we'll need to move fast. The Aetherlords will be on alert now."
Torin nodded, checking his weapon. "Let's get moving."
Kael retrieved the relic, feeling its warmth seep into his skin. The visions had faded, but the sense of purpose remained. Fia was close. The answers he sought—about the Riftborne, the Sundering, his own place in this broken world—were within reach.
As they slipped into the shadows of the undercity, Kael glanced back at the dormant platform. The glyphs flickered, then went dark.
The hunt was on.
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**End of Chapter 8**
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