THE ANTI-HEALERS ODESSY

The Wild Woods, for all their deadly majesty, still held secrets older than empires. Arthur had begun to learn that even the ground beneath his feet seemed alive—breathing, shifting, hiding truths under layers of time. It was on the thirteenth day since the bond with Fenrix that he stumbled across one of those truths.

They had been following a strange current of mana that pulsed faintly through the roots and moss like a buried heartbeat. The deeper into the trees they moved, the more the air grew heavy—not with danger, but with silence. Not the silence of absence, but a stillness so absolute it felt sacred.

Arthur paused near a stone outcrop where the trail of energy was strongest. "There's something here," he whispered, running his hand over the rock.

Umbra sniffed the base while Fenrix growled softly and began pawing at a thick patch of ivy. With a flick of his claws, Fenrix uncovered what looked like a staircase—its mouth yawning open in the shadow of a tree, like a secret waiting to be told.

Arthur lit a small orb of light in his palm and stepped forward. The staircase spiraled down, deeper than he expected, the walls damp with condensation and covered in ancient moss.

Each step down was a step away from the world above.

The light revealed more than stone. There were markings—runes etched into the very walls, almost worn away with time. Arthur ran his fingers over one, feeling the faint trace of mana still clinging to the carved groove.

"These are ancient," he murmured. "Not Caledonian. Something older."

Fenrix let out a low whine. Umbra's tail bristled. The silence deepened as they reached the bottom.

The stairway opened into a vast cavern, so large that Arthur's light could not reach its ceiling. Crystals embedded in the walls pulsed faintly, not bright enough to illuminate, but enough to suggest the space was once lit by magic alone. Stone pillars—some intact, others crumbled—lined a path that led to a circular chamber at the far end.

Arthur's breath caught.

This was no natural formation. It was a temple. A forgotten one.

As he stepped closer, he saw murals carved into the walls—faded images of figures wielding strange, jagged magic. Not fire, not water, not the usual elemental threads. Their hands glowed with a darkness that unraveled other spells, consuming them.

"Anti-Magic," Arthur said aloud.

His pulse quickened.

The murals told a story—though fragmented, the message was clear. Long ago, a faction of mages diverged from the common schools of magic. They believed in balance through negation, stripping power from tyrants and shielding the weak not by protecting them, but by silencing the tools of war.

They were called the Silents.

At the center of the circular chamber stood a dais. Upon it lay a stone pedestal, and atop that rested a single black tablet—carved with runes that shimmered faintly in Arthur's presence.

He stepped forward, but the moment his hand touched the tablet, mana surged from it—rushing into his palm, up his arm, into his core. He gasped as visions flooded his mind.

A battlefield—screaming soldiers—spells unraveling mid-air—mages clutching their hearts as mana was drained—

Then, a single figure in a cloak of grey, eyes glowing with sorrow, whispered a name.

"Veran… the first Anti-Mage."

Arthur fell to his knees.

The vision faded. The cavern felt even more silent than before.

He gripped the edge of the pedestal and pulled himself up. The tablet was still warm.

"I'm not the first," he whispered. "But I might be the last."

Fenrix padded close, eyes narrowed. Umbra circled once, then lay at Arthur's feet.

This place—this temple—had waited for someone. For him?

He studied the tablet again, this time carefully copying its runes into his grimoire. Some of the symbols sparked recognition; others were utterly alien. It would take weeks to decipher them fully.

But one phrase repeated often in the text: *Equilibrium through Silence.*

Arthur stood, the weight of history settling on his shoulders.

He hadn't just found a ruin.

He had found a legacy.

And something told him that others would kill to keep it buried.

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To be continued...