Chapter 3: The Cave of Forgotten Light

The air inside the temple was thicker now, as if the dying words of the man had awakened something beneath the surface — something deeper than death, heavier than silence. Riven had been the first to move. He stepped away from the body — if it could even be called that anymore — and activated his palm beacon, sweeping the temple interior with cool blue light. “No other heat sources,” he muttered. “But there’s... something. A hollow space behind the eastern wall. Vibration’s wrong.” Kael looked up, cracking his knuckles. “Then we break through.” Before anyone could stop him, Lilu moved beside the lifeless man. She didn’t speak. Her smile, strangely serene, flickered as she pulled a small soft-threaded bag from her belt. She gently lifted the body with unexpected care — like a mother lifting a sleeping child — and placed it inside. The bag shimmered faintly… then collapsed. Ash. The corpse had disintegrated into fine, silent dust. She cinched the bag shut, as if she’d just packed away a scarf. “He was light,” she said quietly. “He didn’t want to stay heavy.” Zayn blinked. “That’s not creepy at all, Lilu.” She tilted her head. “I just helped him rest.” Nyra turned away without comment. Her silence was growing louder by the hour. Riven called out again. “There’s something back here. A cavity, maybe a passage.” Kael didn’t wait for consensus. He pressed his hand against the cracked mural at the rear — the one etched in a script that looked vaguely familiar, yet unreadable. Like a forgotten childhood dream. Then, with a growl, he punched the wall. The stone shuddered. Fragments fell. The writing fractured. “Kael—wait—” Zayn began. Too late. Another punch. Then another. The entire wall crumbled inward, revealing a hollow passage beyond — a dark, narrow space like the throat of a sleeping god. The wind from within was cold. Dry. Ancient. “No heat,” Riven confirmed. “No light, either.” The group hesitated. Then Zayn stepped forward, lighting a torch with a flick from his firestarter. The flame flared in the cold air, licking the dark with golden heat. “Only one way to go,” he said with a grin, more nervous than confident. The cave was darker than any night they had known. Not the kind of dark that came from the absence of light — but the kind that seemed to swallow it. Their torches flickered feebly, casting long, desperate shadows that stretched into nothingness. Lilu whispered behind them. “It doesn’t want to be seen.” “What doesn’t?” Kael asked. “This place.” The air was damp now. A low hum echoed through the stone, like a heartbeat slowed to a crawl. As they descended, the path dipped downward. Narrow ledges gave way to wider halls — until finally, they emerged into a massive cavern. The walls shimmered with moisture. Stalactites dripped into a pool of water so clear it reflected their torchlight with silver precision. And in the center — a small stone hill, no more than a few feet high, rising like an altar. From its peak jutted a strange, thick staff-like object. It wasn’t carved. It wasn’t forged. It looked… grown. Organic. Dark. Bound to the earth like a root of the world. The group approached slowly, torches high. Zayn knelt by the water. “This doesn’t make sense. Everything out there is poison — but this…” He dipped his fingers in. The water rippled. Cold. Pure. “This is real.” Near the edge of the pond, etched faintly into the rock, were words: "When one shall come, one must go. Until then, we suffer." Nyra read it aloud, slowly. Her voice echoed back with a strange delay — as if the cave was remembering each word. “What does that mean?” Riven asked. “A warning,” Kael muttered. “Or a promise,” Lilu said. Zayn stood slowly, staring at the thick staff rising from the hill. “That thing. It’s calling to us.” “It’s not a sword,” Nyra said. “Not yet,” Riven added. They circled the hill in silence. The cave, the water, the writing — everything pulsed with a memory none of them understood. The flame flickered. Somewhere behind them, the tunnel breathed. And far, far above — in the dead sky of Olcor — something ancient whispered.