The tunnel descended deeper, walls etched with faded glyphs flickering as if alive. Every step echoed, a haunting rhythm in the cold, musty air.

  “Brother… we should turn back. We don’t know what’s ahead,” Naela whispered, fear tightening her chest.

  “I don’t know where this leads,” Binyamin replied, voice distant but steady, “but I feel like I have to go. Something’s guiding me.”

  “What if it’s a trap? What if it’s the same thing that’s tearing me from the inside?” she asked, weak, clutching her side.

  “Then it will face me first. Whatever it is, I’ll protect you, Naela,” he said firmly, eyes forward.

  Her glyph pulsed faintly, irregular. “It hurts, Ben… I can’t keep walking like this forever.”

  “And I can’t keep watching you suffer,” he said. “That’s why we move forward. Even if it’s death waiting for me — I’ll face it for you.”

  A soft tremor rolled beneath their feet. The deeper they went, the more the walls seemed alive, humming. A flicker of light ahead — a glyph, faint but unmistakable.

  They entered a chamber that seemed to breathe with power. Shadows danced with drifting glyph-light, whispering ancient secrets. Suddenly, they were pulled into a vision.

  The battlefield stretched before them — a sky ripped in two by clashing gods. One bore Binyamin’s glyph, burning red, the other silver and blue. Mountains erupted, oceans twisted, cities crumbled.

  The god with Binyamin’s mark struck the final blow, but both were mortally wounded. Falling to a kneel in the wasteland, he planted Four Pillars — Flame, Stone, Water, Wind. Life sparked, yet it was not enough. Summoning the last of his essence, he poured himself into eight more pillars.

  “This world… can still be saved,” he whispered, eyes dimming.

  Binyamin and Naela gasped as the vision faded.

  “He had my glyph… That god rebuilt the world, and died for it,” Binyamin murmured, awe and fear in his voice.

  “Do you trust me, Naela?” he asked.

  “With my life,” she replied without hesitation.

  “You carry a piece of something ancient,” he said. “But your glyph… it’s unstable. Maybe you’re meant to carry the other one — the defeated god’s mark.”

  “Horrifying,” she whispered. “What if I become like him? Destroy everything?”

  “You won’t,” he interrupted. “I’ll make sure. If this is the only way to save you, I’ll risk everything.”

  She paused. “Then I want a vow. If I try to destroy Vars… you stop me. Promise me, Ben. You kill me.”

  He clenched his fists. “No. Don’t ask me—”

  “Swear it. Or I won’t do it,” she demanded.

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  Slowly, he nodded. “I swear. But… if I do, I’m ending my life too.”

  “No. One of us has to carry the truth forward,” she said, tears glinting in her eyes.

  They embraced, bathed in the silent gaze of the dead gods’ glyphs.

  The inner chamber opened like a sanctum. Strange sigils hovered like drifting stars, none resembling any known Pillar.

  “These… none of them are from the Four Pillars. This must be it,” Binyamin whispered, awe-laden.

  “What if the glyph doesn’t accept me?” Naela asked, trembling.

  “Then it won’t. Don’t touch anything until it calls to you,” he instructed.

  A mirrored glyph floated before her chest, dark but laced with silver veins. Her own red glyph surged with blue sparks, unstable.

  “It’s hurting again…” she gasped.

  “Breathe. I’m here,” Binyamin said firmly, steadying her.

  The glyph hovered, studying, then dove into her chest. Light erupted, engulfing her body. She collapsed, motionless.

  Binyamin held her tightly. Heart hammering.

  Then she drew a deep, shuddering breath. Her eyes fluttered open. The silver-veined glyph stabilized, pulsing gently, rhythmic and alive.

  “It… accepted me,” she whispered.

  Binyamin exhaled, pulling her into a tight embrace. “You’re okay… you’re okay.”

  The chamber dimmed, glyphs watching silently as the siblings trembled, recovering.

  Outside, the night held its breath. Stars dimmed overhead as a deathly chill fell.

  “Brother… I feel it again. Something’s wrong,” Naela said, fear threading her voice.

  A shadow tore through the sky. The Inquisitor landed silently, obsidian armor reflecting nothing, eyes polished void.

  “You were warned. The mark you carry is not yours,” he said, voice like glass scraping steel.

  Binyamin ignited flames in his palm. “Then why does it burn with my heart?”

  The Inquisitor vanished, only to strike moments later. A slash tore the ground. Binyamin barely blocked with a glyph-shield, blood streaking his lips.

  Naela’s glyph erupted uncontrollably, energy discharging wildly. She grazed the Inquisitor — he staggered, then straightened, untouched.

  “You are corruption. And corruption… must be cleansed,” the Inquisitor intoned.

  Suddenly — a CRACK of thunder. A figure fell from the sky, radiant glyphs spinning — Aylen. She slammed a massive sigil into the ground.

  A shockwave hurled the Inquisitor back. Another glyph formed a dome of golden light around Binyamin and Naela.

  “You have no idea what you’re carrying… but they do. And now, they’ll come in numbers,” Aylen warned, kneeling beside Naela.

  Binyamin’s jaw tightened. Bloodied, bruised, resolute — he nodded.