Lindarion's eyes swept the carved walls. Dragons. Human figures. Merged forms etched in crude but powerful lines. Spirals of wings and fire, eyes like suns staring out from stone that should not have remembered.
"No," Lindarion said flatly. "We search every chamber. If these ruins still stand, then something of value may remain."
Nysha tilted her head, crimson eyes glinting. "You think these corpses of stone have left gifts for us? Or are you simply curious how far you can press their faith?"
The commander's jaw tightened. The humans behind him lowered their heads, too ashamed to answer. They didn't want to admit it aloud, but they followed because he said so. Because to them, Lindarion wasn't a man but a wall of fire between them and the dark.
Lindarion turned, gaze cutting briefly to Nysha. "Curiosity is dangerous. But leaving the unknown at your back is suicide."
She smirked faintly, shadows licking at her fingertips. "Pragmatic. I'll give you that."
They pushed forward.
The chambers grew narrower, ceilings lower, until even Lindarion had to bow his head slightly to pass. The walls pulsed faintly with mineral veins, catching the torchlight and sending broken reflections scattering across the floor.
The drawings thickened, dragons devouring suns, dragon-blooded warriors standing tall against storms, eyes carved into stone as though they had watched generations rise and fall.
Ashwing squirmed again, restless. "It's like they can see me, Lindarion… it feels… heavy."
Lindarion's jaw clenched. "Ignore it."
But he couldn't ignore the faint thrum in his veins, the system fragment still settling, still testing him, its new directives whispering like distant thunder at the edge of his mind.
The commander halted at another doorway, this one sealed with stone that had cracked and shifted from age. He glanced back. "My prince?"
"Break it."
It took three men with hammers scavenged from the camp to shatter the stone enough for them to pass. Dust cascaded in choking clouds.
The chamber beyond was smaller, round, lined with carvings not of battles or wings, but of spirals, constellations, stars etched into every surface until the room seemed to shimmer.
In the center, a broken dais rose, its top shattered. What had once rested there was long gone, carried off or destroyed.
Nysha's shadows stirred uneasily. "Looks like your ghosts prayed to the sky."
The commander stepped inside, reverence written across his scarred face. "No… this was a heart. A sanctum. My prince, this temple was not for the people. It was for the rulers. Their bloodline."
Lindarion stepped forward, boots grinding dust. His hand brushed across a star carved into the stone. The hum in his veins surged, sharp and alive, as though the walls recognized him. Or claimed him.
He let none of it show on his face.
"Search it," he ordered.
The soldiers obeyed, sweeping torches over the walls, over the dais, over cracks where roots had slithered through stone. They found only dust. No weapons, no relics. Nothing but the etchings.
Disappointment cracked their faces, but they hid it quickly when Lindarion's gaze swept over them.
Nysha's eyes lingered on him, unblinking. "There's more in here than dust. I can feel it."
"Then keep feeling," Lindarion said curtly, turning from the dais.
The truth was clawing at his insides. The system fragment wasn't finished. He could sense it, deep in his core, the integration continued, threads stitching through him like veins of fire. He didn't dare reveal it. Not to her. Not to anyone.
Ashwing fidgeted, curling his tail tighter around Lindarion's shoulder. "It doesn't like being hidden. It feels… itchy."
Lindarion's hand closed briefly over the lizard's scaled body, not harsh but grounding. "Then it will learn obedience."
Ashwing was silent after that, though his golden eyes darted around nervously, catching every etched dragon eye in the walls.
The chamber gave them nothing else. Eventually Lindarion turned and led them back, his face calm, voice steady, as though nothing had shifted at all.
But inside, something new had rooted itself. Something that didn't belong to him, yet now lived in his veins like fire waiting to be unleashed.
And no one could ever know.
Lindarion stayed at the rear of the group, his hand pressed faintly to his chest as though steadying himself. To them, it would look like fatigue, the price of too many battles strung together without rest. Only he knew the truth.
[System Notice: Mana Core advancement detected.]
[Previous Core: Luminous (Mid-Tier).]
[Current Core: Aetherial (Tier 9: Mythic).]
[Resonance stabilized.]
His teeth clenched. Aetherial. He hadn't reached for it, hadn't strained against his limits or pushed through endless hours of cultivation. It had been forced, dragged into him the moment that fragment fused with his system.
Power hummed now in every vein, heavier and more dangerous than before. It pressed outward, aching for release, as though the walls themselves would crack beneath its weight.
'Too fast,' he thought grimly. 'Far too fast. If they see it… if they sense it…'
He let his hand fall away, forcing his shoulders back, his posture unshaken. Princes of Eldorath did not stumble.
On his shoulder, Ashwing stirred. The little lizard uncurled, blinking with slit-pupiled eyes that gleamed faintly in the dim firelight. His forked tongue flickered once, twice, then he tilted his head up at Lindarion.
"You smell different."
The voice brushed against his mind, familiar and small, the telepathic tone of his companion. Ashwing's thoughts were always raw, childlike, more feeling than words, but sharp in their own way.
'Different?' Lindarion asked silently, keeping his face unreadable as the humans trudged ahead.
Ashwing's tail flicked, tapping once against his armor. "Weird. Like… stars. And blood. And fire. All at the same time. I don't like it. Or maybe I do. I can't tell." His little claws dug into Lindarion's shoulder. "You're heavier. Not your body. The air around you. It's thick now. Makes me want to sneeze fire."
Lindarion's lips twitched despite himself. 'Resist the urge.'
Ashwing puffed a soft huff, curling back down but not silent. "You'll break things if you're not careful. You always break things."
He didn't answer. The truth was too close to that childlike warning.
The group slowed as they reached a wide chamber. The walls here stretched higher, arched into a dome ribbed with stone that shimmered faintly where torchlight kissed it.
Carvings spiraled along the surface, lines, curves, draconic symbols etched with care that spoke of devotion rather than haste.
Nysha's crimson eyes swept the murals, her shadows twitching faintly along the edges of her cloak.
She didn't speak, but her lips pressed thin. She had been watchful ever since they entered the temple, though Lindarion doubted she understood the pull resonating through these walls.
The commander broke the silence, his voice low, reverent against the vastness. "What is this place?"
None of the humans answered. Their eyes darted across the carved shapes, some of them making signs over their chests as though afraid of invoking something.