The vision faded, leaving Elara off-balance. Her chest tightened. Caden’s words lingered, sharp and raw. The soldiers around her shifted, uneasy, as if the shadows had turned against them.
Red crystal veins caught the light along the cavern walls, their glow pulsing in time with the steady thrum in the air. The sound pressed in, low and constant, as if the mountain itself was warning them.
Captain Ryn spat into the dirt, his face drawn. “If this is what waits ahead, we’d best ask ourselves if the man’s worth it.”
A ripple moved through the ranks. One of the priests bowed his head, murmuring a prayer, but another soldier spoke louder, bolder.
“Maybe the nobles were right,” said Sir Devrin, his gauntleted hand tightening on his sword. “If he’s fallen, if he’s taken by darkness, why risk all Verdana for one man?”
Murmurs grew. Doubt moved through the ranks, quick and biting.
Elara breathed in, the copper tang of smoke and stone thick in her mouth. She kept her voice low, steady.
“It isn’t about worth,” she said. Her gaze moved over them, sharp despite the red haze. “It’s about truth. He is the other flame. Without him, Verdana falls.”
Silence followed.
The captain looked away, jaw clenched. Sir Devrin shifted, not meeting her eyes.
Kaela stood near the back, head tilted. The red light caught in her eyes, making them look cold. She didn’t speak, but her lips curled, as if she was holding onto some private thought.
Before any reply could come, a sound rose from deeper in the cavern - chanting. A rhythmic, guttural chorus that reverberated through the stone.
The soldiers stiffened.
“Fanatics,” Ryn muttered. “We’re close.”
From the shadows ahead, masked figures emerged. Their faces were hidden behind bone-white visors streaked with crimson paint, their curved blades glinting in the eerie glow. Without a word, they spread into formation, a wall of steel and faithless zeal.
One stepped forward, voice muffled by his mask.
“The unworthy come to trespass. The flame will be extinguished.”
Elara lifted her sword. “Then let your lies burn first.”
The fight erupted in an instant.
Steel met steel. The cavern rang with blades and the harsh cries of the fanatics. Elara moved fast, her sword cutting through the shadows. Each enemy that fell felt like another lie stripped away.
“Left flank!” Ryn bellowed, driving his men forward.
Sir Devrin locked blades with one masked fanatic, their swords sparking as they pressed. “You’ll not keep me from my queen!” he snarled, finally breaking through with a vicious strike.
Behind them, one of the priests raised his staff, chanting under his breath. A thin wash of golden light rippled outward, steadying faltering soldiers, burning against the crimson haze.
Elara’s focus never slipped. Every movement, every strike, felt heavy with the prophecy. This wasn’t just a fight. It was something being revealed.
Kaela stayed in the shadows. She didn’t rush in like the others. Her blade flashed when a fanatic came too close, but her eyes stayed on Elara.
“She bleeds for them,” Kaela whispered, too low for any to hear. “For him. And when the fire dies, the crown will be mine.”
The fight ended as quickly as it started. The last fanatic dropped, his mask cracking on the stone. Silence settled, broken by the sound of rough breathing.
Ryn wiped his blade, grimacing. “Too easy. They were meant to slow us, nothing more.”
“We move before more come,” Elara said. Her arm ached, but her voice stayed steady. She lifted her sword, the light catching on the blade. “The prophecy doesn’t promise ease. Only victory. We march.”
They moved as one, deeper into the cavern. The walls opened up, red light washing over skin and armor. The chanting grew louder, rising from somewhere below.
And then - the cavern opened wide.
The chamber opened ahead, its walls lined with red crystals that pulsed with light. Dozens of fanatics knelt in circles, heads bowed toward a dais at the center. A hooded figure stood there, arms lifted, his voice carrying above the others.
The soldiers paused. Fear moved through them, sharp and real.
Elara stepped forward. Her grip tightened on her sword. She spoke, voice clear.
“The prophecy does not falter in shadow,” she declared. “It burns brighter. Verdana will not fall here.”
A shiver moved through the ranks, not fear but resolve. The soldiers drew their blades together. The priests lifted their staves, golden light flickering against the red haze.
Ryn’s voice rang out. “For Verdana!”
A roar followed, filling the chamber.
Elara kept her eyes on the dais. The hooded figure stopped chanting and turned to face them. Crimson light flared, washing over him. The air felt heavy with power.
The prophecy burned in her chest. Whatever waited here, she would not falter.
Not while Verdana’s salvation still lay ahead.