Suddenly, a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. The captain.

  He was a tall, seasoned man—the kind who had seen every horror this world had to offer and lived to tell the tale. His face was marked with deep scars, both old and new, and his eyes… they belonged to someone who had witnessed far too many deaths.

  He extended his hand. Resting in his rough palm was an artifact—a necklace. A small thing, yet its pendant flickered with an eerie white light, as if it held an entire night sky within.

  “That is… [Luminara Arcanium].”

  Raizen’s heart clenched. This was what he had given Arcadith before he left.

  A rare relic, cursed with the fate of those who sought hope in the midst of despair. A chain forged from the undying flames of the Dwarven forges and the everlasting light of the moon—a gift Raizen had entrusted to Arcadith with a simple instruction:

  "When everything falls apart, let it guide you."

  And now, it lay here, in his hand.

  Raizen didn’t ask. But the captain spoke anyway, his voice rough, thickened by years at sea.

  “The boy died a hero.”

  Raizen did not respond. He only clenched the artifact in his fist, listening as the captain continued, his words slow, each one carrying a weight of grief.

  “We went too deep.”

  “At first, everything seemed fine. The dungeon was just an old ruin—a city lost beneath the sea for centuries. But then we realized—it wasn’t abandoned. It was a grave.”

  “Something lived down there. Or maybe… it had never died.”

  A cold wind swept past, carrying the scent of salt and the sharp tang of the ocean, stinging the skin of those standing there. Meredith inhaled sharply, clutching the fabric of her coat. Her nails dug into her flesh.

  “All the exits shut. Seawater started seeping in through the cracks in the stone. No light. Only darkness and the howling of the wind, like whispers of the dead.”

  “We panicked. Some tried to find a way out, some dropped to their knees and prayed, and others… others just stood there, waiting for fate to claim them.”

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  “But not Arcadith.”

  “He stepped forward.”

  Raizen gritted his teeth. He didn’t want to hear this. Not now. He shoved the necklace into his pocket and glared at the captain.

  “Enough.” His voice was dry, hollow. “That’s enough.”

  He didn’t look at Meredith, but he knew. He knew she was trembling. Every word spoken was a blade, cutting deeper into wounds that were still bleeding.

  But then, a small voice stopped him.

  “Keep going.”

  Meredith stood straight, though her frail shoulders still quivered. She lifted her head, her eyes red-rimmed but unwavering.

  “I want to hear it,” she whispered. “Tell me… how did he die?”

  Raizen stared at her. He had thought she would break. But no—Meredith was holding on, fighting against her own pain, even as every breath still caught in her throat.

  The captain was silent for a long moment. Then, with a slow nod, he continued.

  “‘No one dies here,’ he said. And then… he led us.”

  Meredith bit her lip. Blood welled, but she didn’t wipe it away.

  Raizen stood still. His eyes darkened, his fists clenched.

  “No one knew how, but he found a way out. We ran. The darkness chased after us. Growls echoed from beneath the earth, blackened hands reached from the walls. The dungeon itself was alive, swallowing anyone who fell behind.”

  “We ran, ran until there was only one stone gate left.”

  “And then… it started to close.”

  Meredith shuddered.

  “We weren’t fast enough.”

  “That was when Arcadith threw me out. And then, he stayed behind.”

  “I still remember his face.” The captain’s voice wavered. “There was no fear. Just a smile—faint, fading into the dark.”

  “He chose to hold the path. To fight whatever was in there, so we could escape.”

  “The door closed.”

  “And that was the last time I saw Arcadith.”

  Silence fell over them.

  Meredith no longer trembled. She didn’t cry. But something in her eyes had changed.

  Raizen glanced at her before turning away, shoving his hands into his coat pocket. His fingers brushed against [Luminara Arcanium]. His throat felt dry.

  He hated this. Hated how Arcadith always threw himself into sacrifice. Hated how Meredith was trying to hold back her grief.

  And he hated himself—because there was nothing he could do but stand here, listening to the story of a man who was gone.

  Without a word, he pulled his hand from his pocket, ripped off his coat, and tossed it over Meredith’s head.

  She flinched, fumbling to pull it down. He didn’t look at her.

  “Let’s go.”

  Meredith clutched the fabric tightly in her hands. She looked at him, lips parting as if to say something, but no words came out.

  But Raizen knew.

  He knew she wouldn’t let this go.

  And truth be told—neither would he.