Chapter 11: The Cradle of Ash

The cavern was silent now, the forge’s light a steady, throbbing beacon in the darkness. Coza stood motionless, his hand brushing against the sphere, which had returned to its place in his coat. The whispers were gone, leaving behind a stillness that felt more unsettling than the chaos before. Edna moved beside him, her figure stark against the forge’s glow. Her weapon was lowered, but her eyes remained wary, darting across the chamber like she expected it to collapse at any moment.

“It’s never this quiet,” Edna murmured, almost to herself.

Coza didn’t respond. His thoughts churned with fragments of what he’d seen—the images of fire, ash, and renewal that had seared themselves into his mind. He couldn’t shake the voice’s words: To end or begin.

The forge loomed ahead, its surface smooth and dark, save for the veins of golden light snaking across it. It felt alive, as if it was waiting for something—or someone.

Edna broke the silence. “If you’re going to do something, do it quickly. This place doesn’t stay stable for long.”

“I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do,” Coza admitted. His voice sounded small against the vastness of the chamber.

Edna glanced at him, her expression unreadable. “You’re carrying the key, aren’t you?”

Coza frowned. “The sphere?”

She nodded. “That thing brought you here. It’s tied to this place, just like you are. Whether you like it or not.”

Before Coza could reply, the chamber shifted. A low rumble echoed through the cavern, and the ground beneath them trembled. The forge’s light intensified, casting long, flickering shadows across the walls. The veins along the ground pulsed brighter, their glow racing outward like rivers of molten gold.

The rumble grew louder, and a section of the far wall crumbled, revealing a new passage. Coza and Edna exchanged a glance before moving toward it, their footsteps crunching against the glowing sand. The air grew heavier as they approached, thick with heat and the faint scent of something burning.

The passage opened into a narrow hallway, its walls lined with intricate carvings. Unlike the symbols Coza had seen before, these depicted scenes—figures rising from fire, cities collapsing into dust, and a radiant light splitting the sky. The carvings seemed to shimmer as he passed, as though the figures were watching him.

“What is this place?” Coza asked.

“A tomb, maybe,” Edna said. “Or a warning.”

The hallway led to a massive chamber, its ceiling lost in darkness. At the center stood a structure unlike anything Coza had ever seen—a towering, spiraling construct of metal and stone, its surface covered in the same glowing veins. The sphere in his coat grew warm, its pulse matching the rhythm of the veins.

Edna approached the structure cautiously. “This is it,” she said. “The heart of the forge.”

Coza followed, his gaze fixed on the spiraling construct. It radiated an energy that made his skin prickle, a sense of power that felt both ancient and limitless.

“What am I supposed to do?” he asked again, his voice trembling.

Edna turned to him, her eyes sharp. “You already know the answer. You just don’t want to face it.”

As Coza stepped closer to the structure, the air around him seemed to shift. The carvings along the walls began to glow, and faint whispers returned, softer this time, like a distant memory. The sphere in his hand flared with light, and the whispers coalesced into a single, haunting voice.

“The choice was made long ago,” it said. “You are the vessel.”

Coza froze. The sphere lifted from his hand, floating toward the spiraling construct. Its light grew blinding, filling the chamber with a golden radiance. The carvings on the walls came to life, their figures moving in a slow, deliberate dance.

The voice continued. “This place is a cradle. A beginning. An end.”

Edna stepped back, her weapon raised. “What’s it doing?”

The sphere reached the apex of the spiraling structure and locked into place. The light pulsed once, and the ground trembled. Coza fell to his knees, his breath catching in his throat. Images flooded his mind again—flashes of fire, ash, and rebirth, intertwined with scenes of destruction and chaos. He saw the Harbor crumbling, its towering spires consumed by the veins. He saw the veins spreading across the land, reshaping it into something new.

The voice spoke again, louder now. “The spark cannot exist without the flame. Choose.”

Coza clenched his fists. “I don’t know what you want from me!”

The chamber grew silent. The light dimmed, leaving the spiraling construct glowing faintly. The carvings on the walls stilled, their figures frozen mid-motion. Edna stepped forward, her expression grim.

“You’re at a crossroads,” she said. “This forge—it’s tied to the veins, to the Harbor. Whatever you do here will ripple across everything.”

Coza shook his head. “I didn’t ask for this.”

“None of us did,” Edna said. “But that doesn’t mean you can walk away.”

The light from the construct flickered, casting fractured shadows across the chamber. Coza stood, his legs trembling. The sphere remained locked in the structure, its glow steady and unwavering. He approached it slowly, his chest heavy with the weight of the choice before him.

The voice returned, softer this time. “To burn or to build. The choice is yours.”

Coza reached out, his hand hovering over the sphere. The warmth of its glow seeped into his skin, a faint hum vibrating through his bones. He closed his eyes, his thoughts a whirlwind of doubt and fear.

“What happens if I choose wrong?” he whispered.

“There is no wrong,” the voice replied. “Only consequence.”

Coza’s fingers brushed the sphere, and the chamber erupted in light. The carvings on the walls flared to life, their figures shifting and twisting in a chaotic dance. The spiraling construct began to spin, its veins glowing brighter with each rotation.

The ground trembled, and Coza staggered back. The light consumed everything, and for a moment, he felt weightless. The images returned, clearer this time—visions of the Harbor, of the veins, of a world both ending and beginning.

When the light faded, Coza found himself kneeling on the ground, the sphere back in his hand. The chamber was silent once more, the spiraling construct dark and lifeless. Edna stood nearby, her weapon lowered, her gaze fixed on him.

“What did you do?” she asked.

Coza stared at the sphere, its glow now faint but steady. “I don’t know.”

Edna’s expression darkened. “Whatever it was, it’s already started.”

As they left the chamber, the veins along the walls pulsed faintly, their rhythm slower now, almost tired. The air felt heavier, as though the cavern itself was holding its breath. Coza followed Edna in silence, his mind racing with questions he couldn’t yet answer.

The path ahead was dark, the light from the veins barely enough to guide their way. Coza tightened his grip on the sphere, its warmth a reminder of the choice he’d made—whatever it was. The whispers were gone now, replaced by a quiet that felt both comforting and ominous.

As they climbed toward the surface, Coza glanced back at the chamber, its light fading into the distance. Whatever had happened in the forge, it had changed something—something that could never be undone.

And for the first time, Coza wondered if he was ready for what lay ahead.