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T he nexus reacts to the energy from my palms almost imme- diately. I grab the crimson tome from my pack and place it next to the pedestal, It glows a fire red like the runes covering all the walls. I take a deep breath and place my hand on the centre rune.

A bright red beam explodes from the pedestal, shooting up towards the cave ceiling. Once again, the ground trembles beneath us, echoing a roar all around the cave. I shield my eyes again. Why does it have to be so bright in such a dark cave?

“I’m fine!” I shout towards Darius and Azrael.

The light from the beam flew through me, and the runes on the pedestal shifted. Rearranging themselves into a different pattern, another figure appeared, but this time in the shape of a man.

“Who dares awaken the Nexus of Obsidia?” the voice of the man-like figure echoed in anger.

The red light pulsed, casting jagged shadows against the cave walls.

My heartbeat thundered in my ears as the spectral figure solidified before us, his towering form exuding authority and barely contained fury.

His eyes, burning embers of molten gold, bore into me as if he could see straight through my skin and into my very soul.

“I said,” the figure reiterated, his voice resonating with power, “who dares awaken the Nexus of Obsidia?”

I swallowed hard, my hand still pressed against the rune- covered pedestal, the crimson tome beside it pulsating with an energy that thickened the air around me.

“I am Elara,” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady. “And we need answers.”

The figure’s expression darkened, his form shifting like smoke in the breeze.

The cave around us trembled once more, as if responding to his displeasure.

Behind me, Darius and Azrael had their weapons half-drawn, poised to fight if necessary.

But how could we combat something that wasn’t even alive?

“Elara,” the spirit mused, his gaze narrowing. “The name means nothing to me. But the tome... the tome should not be here.” His fiery eyes flicked towards the book, his expression contorting into something inscrutable.

I tightened my grip on the pedestal. “We don’t have time for riddles. We must know what’s inside this book and what the council has been concealing from us.”

The spirit emitted a harsh, humourless laugh, the sound ricocheting off the cave walls like a war drum. “The Council,” he derided. “Fools who toy with power they do not comprehend. I have encountered their sort before.”

A deep crack splintered through the pedestal beneath my hand, and I flinched, yet I didn’t pull away. The nexus was reacting, but whether it was to the spirit’s anger or to my presence, I couldn’t ascertain.

“What are you?” I inquired.

The figure tilted his head, his expression inscrutable.

“I am the final voice of Obsidia’s keepers, a remnant of the power that once ruled this land before the council sank its claws into the world.

” He raised a hand, and the runes along the walls blazed even brighter.

“And you have come seeking knowledge. But knowledge is not bestowed, it is earned.”

The ground shook violently beneath us, and suddenly, the cave began to shift. Runes unravelled from the walls, twisting and spiralling towards the centre of the room like molten streams of fire. The air crackled with raw magic, its scent sharp like burnt ozone.

“Elara, something is amiss!” Darius called from behind me.

The spirit stretched out his arms, his form throbbing like a fading star. “Do you seek the truth?” he bellowed. “Then bear the weight of it!”

A wave of energy burst forth from the pedestal, sending me sprawling backwards. I struck the ground with force, my vision flashing white as my whole body tingled with the jolt of magic coursing through the cave.

“Elara!” Azrael’s voice sliced through the chaos, yet I couldn’t concentrate. My breath came in sharp gasps as images, visions, tumbled through my mind faster than I could comprehend.

Fire. Realms reduced to smouldering ruins. The Council stood above the wreckage, their hands stained with the blood of those who had dared to resist them. A throne room draped in obsidian banners, where a lone figure sat, face shrouded in darkness, their presence exuding sheer, unrelenting power.

And then... war.

Swords clashing, magic splitting the sky, screams echoing in the distance. And amidst it all, a beast. A monstrous entity, forged from shadow and fury, tearing through armies as if they were made from parchment.

It wasn’t merely any war; it was the war that had shaped the world as we knew it, the war that had bestowed power upon the Council.

The war that they had initiated.

I gasped as the visions faded, the cave rushing back into focus. The spirit loomed above me, observing as I fought to sit up. The glow in his eyes dimmed slightly, as though he had witnessed the realisation settling over me.

“Are you beginning to understand?” he murmured.

I pushed myself to my feet, my legs trembling. “The Council... they didn’t inherit their power. They tricked everyone. They didn’t help our ancestors with the treaty, they started the Great War to gain access to all of our power.”

Azrael and Darius exchanged looks, but neither interrupted.

The spirit nodded. “Now you see. They built their empire on deception, and they will do anything to keep their power.” He gestured to the tome, its pages flipping wildly as though touched by an unseen force.

“That book contains the knowledge they feared would surface. The knowledge of what came before .”

My pulse pounded. “Then tell us what’s inside it.”

The spirit’s form flickered, and for the first time, his expres- sion softened. “That is not for me to decide. The tome’s secrets must be unlocked . But beware, child, truth is rarely gentle.”

Before I could ask what he meant, the spirit raised his arms once more. The runes pulsed one last time, the cave shuddering as magic twisted and folded in on itself.

And then, in a final burst of red light, he was gone.

The silence that followed was deafening.

I turned to Azrael and Darius, my breath unsteady. Azrael’s grip was still tight on his sword, but his expression was grim. Darius just stared at the now-dormant pedestal, his face pale. “We need to go,” Azrael said finally, his voice clipped. “Now.”

I nodded, grabbing the tome and shoving it back into my pack. The cave felt different now, as if the magic had shifted in some fundamental way.

As we hurried back through the tunnels, I kept my fingers wrapped tightly around the tome’s cover. The spirit’s words echoed in my mind.

Truth is rarely gentle. I had a feeling we were about to learn just how true that was.