He stumbled out of the swirling mist and hit the cold flagstones of Emberkeep’s central plaza. The air was dry, smelling of woodsmoke and old iron, and odd comfort in a strange world.
But Elias didn't stop to breathe. He scrambled up, his boots skidding on the stone.
"Where is he?" Elias rasped, scanning the chamber. "The Warg. The system said it sent him back."
"He’s here," Harth’s voice came from the raised dais of the Sanctum. "But he isn't good, lad."
Elias sprinted up the stairs, ignoring the protest in his injured calf.
Cindersnarl was suspended in the centre of the room, hovering a foot or so above the ground inside a geometric cage of hard, glowing light. He looked like a fly trapped in amber, frozen at the exact moment of his collapse. His jaws open in a silent snarl, his muscles bunched in an endless spasm.
Through the translucent field, Elias could see the infection. Patches of grey-green fuzz were colonising the Warg’s flank, their growth arrested by the stasis.
"It caught him mid-beat," Elias said, reading the vitals through the shimmering wall. "His heart has stopped within the field. If we drop it, the shock might kill him before the rot does."
"We can't keep him pickled forever," Harth said, leaning on his staff. "The stasis drains the Keep’s reserves, and it doesn't cure; it just delays."
Thorne limped up the stairs behind them. She took one look at the frozen beast and grimaced. "Septic shock waiting to happen."
"I have the cure," Elias said, reaching into his pack. He pulled out the Pariah’s Thornheart. It pulsed in his hand, cool and dark, reacting to the proximity of the corruption inside the field.
"Thorne, I need heat. Focused heat, not a blast, a concentrated beam to cauterise."
Thorne raised her staff. The copper tip glowed white-hot, the air shimmering around it. "I can hold a point," she said. "Just don't make me hold it long."
"Harth, when the field drops, gravity will take hold. Be ready to brace him."
Harth nodded, setting his shoulder under the floating form.
Elias took a breath. In for four. Hold for four.
"Release," he whispered the command.
The amber light shattered into sparks.
Gravity returned instantly. Cindersnarl dropped, hitting Harth hard, before sliding to the stone table with a heavy, wet thud.
The Warg convulsed. The grey rot on his flank flared to life, spreading visibly as it consumed the heat from his skin. He let out a high, gargled whine.
"Now!" Elias barked.
Thorne thrust her staff forward. A tight beam of concentrated heat struck the grey patch. Cindersnarl thrashed, a howl bubbling in his throat.
Elias didn't flinch. He jammed the Thornheart directly against the infection.
"Draw it out," he commanded.
The relic flared, pulling.
The green rot hissed, steaming as it was torn from the Warg’s flesh and absorbed into the stone heart. The mycelium withered, turning black and flaking away like ash.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Cindersnarl seized once, violently enough to rattle the table.....and then went limp.
Elias pressed his fingers into the Warg’s neck.
Thump... thump... thump.
"Sinus rhythm," Elias exhaled, slumping against the table. "He’s stable."
Fennroot, who had been clinging to Elias’s shoulder in terrified silence, hopped down. The sprout patted Cindersnarl’s nose with a tiny root-hand, then curled up in the fur of the Warg’s neck, pulsing a soft, comforting green.
"He’s clear," Elias said. "He just needs sleep."
An hour later, the adrenaline had faded, leaving Elias feeling hollowed out.
He sat on a bench in the Anvil Sanctum, nursing a mug of something hot and bitter that Harth insisted was restorative tea.
His gaze drifted to the central pillar—the spine of the Keep.
Before they had left for the Hollow, a hairline fracture had been spreading through the stone, bleeding purple light. Now, the crack was sealed. A seam of gold ran through the masonry like a vein of ore, an otherworldly Kintsugi that brought on pangs for his previous life.
"It's holding," Harth said, following his gaze. "The pressure from the Hollow has equalised. You stopped the rot from climbing the roots."
[HUB STATUS: STABLE] [CORRUPTION LEVEL: 15% (REDUCED FROM 22%)] [NEW FACILITY UNLOCKED: ECHO GARDEN]
"The Garden opened up in the East Wing," Harth noted. "Seems your little Fennroot friend woke up the greenhouse. We might actually get herbs that don't taste like sulphur."
Elias looked at the sword leaning against the anvil: Dawnfall.
The red lines of the Knight's trauma were still there, but they were now interlaced with green-gold filigree from the Leshei ritual. It looked less like a weapon of war and more like an instrument of balance.
"And the Blade?" Elias asked.
"It's... brooding," Thorne said, examining the edge. "But it's not screaming anymore. The Pariah's memory gave it context. It knows it wasn't the only one who suffered."
Elias touched the hilt. The vibration was gone. It felt like a tool again.
"We found something else," Elias said. "Beneath the Pariah's grove."
"The shaft," Thorne said, her voice dropping. "It smelled like a mine."
Harth stiffened. He turned slowly, his face hardening into the mask Elias remembered from their first meeting.
"Hollowdeep," the old man rasped.
"You know it?"
I know of it. The dwarves dug it. They wanted fuel for their machines. They found... something else. Something else to exploit.
[LORE UPDATE: THE SOLMYR] [ENTRY: THE FIRST SIN OF INDUSTRY]
"It's a massacre site," Elias said, the realisation settling cold in his stomach, "isn't it?"
"It's worse," Harth said. "It's a factory. Before the Order broke the world with fire, the dwarves broke it with greed. And that shaft... it leads straight to the engine room."
Elias reached into his pocket and pulled out the Memory Sigil—the deep green seed he'd been given in the Weald.
"We need to go back," Elias said. "The Pariah was guarding that shaft. Now it's open."
"Not back to the forest," Harth corrected. He took the Sigil from Elias's hand and walked to the Crucible Gate control mechanism. He slotted the stone into a new recess on the pedestal.
"The Keep connects to the ley lines. With this Sigil, the Gate won't take you to the trees. It'll triangulate the depth."
"Teleportation?"
"Precision insertion," Harth said. "Directly to the mine entrance. No need to hike through the mud again."
Elias nodded. That was a mercy.
"Not yet," Thorne interjected, pointing a bandaged hand at Elias. "You're limping, your eye is bleeding again, and Cindersnarl is out cold. If we go down there in this state, we won't come back."
[ADVICE: REST REQUIRED] [SYSTEM FATIGUE: HIGH]
Elias wanted to argue; the urgency coursed through his blood. But he looked at his hand—the tremor had returned.
"Tomorrow," he conceded. "We make ready, we rest, then we go under."
The downtime wasn't idle though. Elias used it for preparation.
He spent the evening in the Runewell Grotto, working with the new materials he'd scavenged.
He sat at the alchemy bench. "Light," he muttered. "Harth said it’s dark down there. We need glow sticks, or as close as we can manage."
He crushed a [Bioluminescent Bulb] from the Hollow and mixed it with reactive Ashroot. The result was a sticky, glowing paste.
[CRAFTING: LUMEN-PASTE]
- Effect: Applied to armour or weapons. Emits light radius (10m) for 60 minutes.
- Note:Attracts moth-type enemies.
"Good enough," he said, jarring it. "We can worry about the moths later"
He moved to the Glyph table. The [Ashsworn Trinity]—Hold, Refuse, Endure—felt heavy in his inventory. He slotted them into their sockets on his armour.
[ARMOUR UPGRADE: ASHSWORN PLATE]
- Bonus:+10% Physical Resistance.
- Set Bonus:Stand Ground — Immunity to Knockback while blocking.
He felt the armour tighten around him, the metal adjusting to his frame. It now felt less like a cage and more like a second skin.
Finally, he returned to the Sanctum.
Cindersnarl was awake, groggy, but awake. The Warg lifted his head as Elias entered, thumping his tail once on the stone floor.
Elias sat on the floor beside him, leaning his back against Cindersnarl’s flank. The heat was steady now, comforting.
"We’re going deep tomorrow, buddy," Elias whispered, scratching the Warg’s ears. "Dark, cold, and I imagine, crystalline."
Cindersnarl huffed, a puff of smoke shaping a ring in the air. Ready.
Elias closed his eyes. The interface flickered one last time before sleep took him.
[NEXT REALM: HOLLOWDEEP] [THREAT ASSESSMENT: EXTREME] [OBJECTIVE: SILENCE THE MACHINES]
< ...they are waiting... >
The Child’s voice, faint and static-laced.
< ...helo those who were made of glass... help them... >
"I will," Elias promised into the dark.
And for the first time in a long time, he slept without dreaming of fire.