The Devourer's Dominion

The air still carried the weight of Seris's presence, like a shadow refusing to fade. Aetheron stood still, staring at the spot where she had vanished. The way she had tested him, studied him—it wasn't just an assassination attempt. It was something more.

And that made it worse.

Veyrin broke the silence with an irritated sigh. "She got in our faces, toyed with us, and left like it was a damn game." He kicked a loose rock, sending it tumbling down the slope. "I hate people like that."

Lyara wasn't looking at him. Her fingers were tight around her spear, her breathing controlled but just a little too slow, like she was still processing. "She was trying to see something."

Aetheron turned his gaze to her. "You felt it too."

Lyara nodded. "It wasn't just a test. She wanted to confirm something about you."

Aetheron exhaled sharply. He didn't like that. He didn't like being watched, being studied. Especially not when he wasn't sure what was changing inside him.

"She knows something," he muttered.

Veyrin snorted. "Yeah? And how do we ask someone who disappears into thin air?"

Aetheron didn't answer. Instead, he turned and started walking. "Let's move. We're wasting time."

Veyrin groaned but followed. Lyara lingered a second longer before doing the same.

—

They reached the old temple ruins by midday.

The place was ancient, half-swallowed by the land. Vines curled around cracked pillars, and the stone floor was uneven, worn by time. Despite the open sky above, it felt enclosed, like something unseen was pressing down on them.

"This is it?" Veyrin muttered, eyeing the broken archways. "Doesn't look like much."

Aetheron stepped forward. He could feel it—the pull. The same one that had been guiding them here since they first heard whispers of this place. The air inside was thick, humming with something old and restless.

He placed a hand against one of the worn stone walls. The sigil on his arm pulsed.

And the temple answered.

A deep thrum shook the ground beneath them. Dust fell from above as unseen mechanisms groaned to life.

Veyrin tensed. "I really don't like when things start moving by themselves."

Before anyone could respond, the floor beneath them shifted. Aetheron barely had time to react before the ground split open.

Gravity yanked them down.

—

Darkness swallowed them.

Aetheron hit the ground in a crouch, his senses flaring. Lyara landed beside him, rolling to absorb the impact. Veyrin, less graceful, crashed onto his back with a loud thud.

Aetheron stood, eyes adjusting to the dim glow of strange markings lining the underground chamber. The air was colder here, damp with something almost alive.

Veyrin groaned, sitting up. "I swear, if this is some ancient death trap—"

A low, resonating hum cut him off.

Aetheron turned toward the source.

At the far end of the chamber stood an altar, its surface etched with symbols that pulsed with faint, blue light. Aetheron's eyes narrowed. The energy felt familiar.

Too familiar.

Lyara stepped closer. "This… isn't normal."

Veyrin scoffed. "None of this is normal. What now?"

Aetheron didn't answer. He was already walking toward the altar. Each step sent a ripple through the air, like the temple itself was watching. The moment he reached out, the sigil on his arm burned—hot, sharp, reacting.

And then, the altar spoke.

—

Not in words. Not in sound.

In visions.

Aetheron's breath hitched as his mind was pulled into something deeper.

A battlefield, scorched and broken.

A warrior standing alone, surrounded by bodies.

Not just any warrior.

The Sovereign.

His armor was cracked, his blade dull with blood. Around him, figures lay lifeless, creatures of impossible size and power. And yet—there was one still standing before him.

Aetheron couldn't see its full form, only the presence.

A void.

An entity beyond shape, beyond understanding.

The Sovereign raised his blade one last time. Power surged, darkness and light clashing, colliding—

And then, the vision snapped.

Aetheron stumbled back, breath uneven. The sigil on his arm was blazing. The temple walls seemed closer, the weight of something ancient pressing down on him.

Lyara caught his arm. "What happened?"

Aetheron clenched his jaw. "A memory."

Veyrin raised an eyebrow. "Of what?"

Aetheron's fingers curled. "A fight." His voice was quiet. "One that wasn't won."

—

The silence stretched.

Then, a shift in the air.

The walls trembled, and from the far end of the chamber, something stirred.

Aetheron's head snapped toward the movement.

Stone cracked, dust spilling from the edges of the room. And then—eyes.

Not human.

Not alive.

A colossal figure began to rise from the darkness, its form wrapped in ancient, rusted armor. Chains bound its limbs, heavy and unbroken despite the centuries. Its gaze burned with unnatural fire, locked directly onto Aetheron.

Veyrin took a step back. "Tell me that's not a guardian."

Lyara's grip on her spear tightened. "It's waking up."

Aetheron's pulse remained steady. His power coiled inside him, ready.

The figure's voice rumbled like grinding stone.

"You bear the mark."

The sigil on Aetheron's arm pulsed in response.

"Then you must be tested."

And then, it moved.

Faster than something that size should.

Its massive arm swung, aiming to crush them in one blow. Aetheron reacted instantly, darting aside as the impact shattered the ground where he'd been standing. Dust exploded outward, blinding.

Veyrin cursed, rolling away. Lyara was already moving, spear flashing toward the creature's joints. The strike landed—but barely scratched the armor.

Aetheron didn't hesitate. His sword ignited with dark energy as he lunged, aiming for the exposed gaps in the guardian's plating.

The blade struck. Sparks flew.

But the guardian barely flinched.

Then, it turned its gaze on Aetheron.

And charged.

The ground cracked beneath its weight as it closed the distance in a blink. Aetheron leapt back, barely dodging as another massive swing tore through the chamber.

Lyara shouted, "We can't fight this head-on!"

Veyrin was already scrambling to higher ground. "Yeah, no shit!"

Aetheron narrowed his eyes, mind racing. They weren't going to overpower this thing. But it wasn't just an enemy.

It was a test.

Which meant there was a way to pass.

His eyes flickered to the markings on the altar. The same energy as the sigil on his arm.

And then, it clicked.

Aetheron dodged another attack, then shouted, "Get it near the altar!"

Lyara didn't question. She moved.

Veyrin groaned. "I hate plans that involve giant death machines getting closer to me!" But he followed.

The guardian, relentless, pursued. The chamber shook with every step, but Aetheron kept his focus. As soon as it was close enough—

He raised his marked arm toward the altar.

The sigil blazed.

And the temple responded.

A pulse of energy erupted outward, slamming into the guardian. The chains around it snapped. The fire in its eyes flared—then dimmed.

And then, silence.

Aetheron exhaled, lowering his arm. The guardian didn't move.

Then, its voice rumbled.

"You may proceed."