She Chose the Wrong Hero

Kael led them through the fortress.

The deeper they went, the colder it became. The stone walls were damp. The torches barely gave off any light. Elira wrapped her cloak tighter around herself. Her hands were shaking, but not from the cold.

Something about this place felt wrong.

Aeren walked close beside her. His hand stayed near his sword. He didn't trust Kael—but he hadn't said a word since they left the hall.

Neither had she.

Finally, they reached a heavy iron door. There were strange markings carved into it—symbols she didn't understand. Some glowed faintly, like dying embers.

Kael stopped in front of it.

"This is it," he said. "The place where it began."

Elira stepped forward slowly.

The air was heavy. It pressed on her skin, thick and cold. The closer she got, the more she felt it—a strange hum, like a whisper beneath her thoughts.

"What's behind it?" she asked.

Kael looked at her, his face serious.

"A voice," he said. "A presence. It doesn't speak with words, but with feelings. It shows you things. It gets inside your head."

Aeren narrowed his eyes. "Then why bring us here?"

"Because you asked for the truth," Kael replied. "And this is where it lives."

He placed his hand on the door.

The metal pulsed under his palm.

A low sound filled the air—deep and strange, like a heartbeat inside stone.

Then the door creaked open.

Elira held her breath.

Inside, there was only darkness. No fire. No light. Just a black, empty space that looked far too deep to be real.

Elira stepped in first.

The floor was smooth stone. The walls were covered in old carvings—circles, stars, eyes, and things she didn't recognize. The symbols seemed to move when she wasn't looking directly at them.

Aeren came in behind her, tense.

Kael followed last, his voice low.

"This was a temple once. Before the Order sealed it. Long before our time."

"What happened here?" Elira asked.

"They tried to close the door," Kael said. "They failed."

At the far end of the chamber stood a second door—smaller, made of dark stone. It was chained shut with silver locks. The air around it was colder, and the strange hum was louder here.

"That's the real door," Kael said. "The one I found."

Elira stepped closer, but her legs felt heavy. Like the air itself was trying to hold her back.

"What's behind it?" she asked again, her voice barely a whisper.

Kael looked at the door, and something in his eyes changed.

"I saw… a throne made of bones. A city in flames. I saw you die. And I saw myself standing above it all, wearing a crown I didn't want."

Elira's chest ached. "And you believed it?"

"I still do," he said. "Because some of it has already come true."

Aeren moved to Elira's side.

"Can it be stopped?" he asked.

Kael didn't answer right away.

Then he said, "Yes. But not with swords. Not with armies. It will take something more."

Elira looked at the sealed door again.

The chains were shaking slightly.

Like something on the other side could feel them.

"We need to leave," she said. "Not just from this room. From this whole fortress."

Kael looked at her. "You're afraid."

"Yes," she said. "Aren't you?"

He didn't answer.

Aeren placed a hand on her arm. "Let's go. We've seen enough."

But Elira looked back at the door one last time.

And for just a moment, she thought she saw a faint light in the cracks.

Not warm light.

Cold. Pale. Watching.