When the Darkness Falls

When all conversation had faded and exhaustion finally claimed their bodies, a quiet, almost formal decision was made: to take turns keeping watch. Everyone took their place, with a weapon or a magic tool at hand—not trusting strangers, but also without arguing. The tension still lingered in the air, but it was overshadowed by the weariness that had settled in over many hours.

The ceiling was high, gloomy, and seemed unattainable. It was lost somewhere in the darkness above, like the night sky, covered in centuries-old dust. Majestic columns with exquisite ornamentation stretched upward, framing the space like the skeletons of forgotten temples. Their stone bodies were etched with engravings, while the walls, torn by time, were covered in strange symbols—as if created by beings who had never worn human faces.

The smooth floor reflected the columns, as if the water sought to preserve the memory of this place. It was covered by the thinnest layer of water—an even, silent mirror. Every step Sairen took sent ripples outward, like the traces of someone else's presence in a long-abandoned world.

He walked in silence. His thoughts dragged behind him like rusty chains—slow, heavy, reluctant to resolve. His body no longer obeyed his will. It moved forward on its own, as if pulled by something unseen. He made no attempt to stop. He didn't even look back.

The corridor was endless. It stretched ahead like a serpent, carrying him further and further.

Images of birds of prey hung among the ornaments between the columns. Their eyes were sharp, nearly alive. Sairen could feel them watching his every move. He didn't know how long he had been walking—minutes, hours, days? Time had no meaning here. There was no "before," no "after."

Suddenly, a clattering sound echoed from the distance. Sharp—metal scraping against stone. It was as if someone were dragging chains behind them.

Sairen froze. His heartbeat quickened, but his body moved faster on its own, picking up pace. First faster—then into a run. His footsteps echoed loudly, but the sound of the chains kept up, closing in.

Until, finally, it sounded right behind him.

A kick to the leg jolted him awake. He gasped for air, like a man breaking the surface after nearly drowning.

Two figures stood over him. Rud, curly-haired with a broad, stubbled face. The other was a stranger, likely from another group. They looked down at him with suspicion.

Sairen tried to rise, but something held him down—his wrists and ankles were tightly bound with rope. He looked down and saw how firmly it held him.

"Don't squirm," Rud said in a hoarse voice. "I've got just one question for you."

Sairen stayed silent, his expression distant, as if sleep hadn't yet let go of him.

"Did you see anything strange while we were sleeping?" Rud leaned in.

He blinked slowly. "Strange?"

"Yes, strange," Rud snapped, annoyed. "Did it happen or not?"

Sairen hesitated a moment. "No."

Even if he had seen something, he wouldn't have said so. A quiet rage boiled under his skin—dense, bitter. Anger pressed beneath his ribs and left no room for honesty.

Rud smirked suddenly, like someone enjoying another's helplessness. He turned to his companion:

"See? This idiot doesn't know anything either."

The other man frowned, eyeing Sairen with a hint of doubt.

"You're sure? You didn't see anyone entering or leaving the dome?"

Sairen squinted, wary now. "I told you—I don't know. What's wrong with you people?"

The man grunted and turned away, walking off without another word.

Rud followed silently, leaving Sairen alone. He clenched his teeth and, as much as the rope allowed, shifted into a seated position. Something had clearly happened while he was unconscious.

Inside the dome, the mood was tense. In the center of the stone hall, lit by scattered lamps, Mearin stood frowning, speaking to one of his subordinates.

"He couldn't have gone far. Expand the search perimeter."

The subordinate nodded and left. Mearin rubbed his temples wearily. Beside him, Tas spoke, his tone quieter but heavy:

"It's a bad idea to send people out. We don't know what we're dealing with. And out there, no one can guarantee safety."

At that moment, the mage who had interrogated Sairen earlier approached. His face was tight but composed.

"Master… I don't think the infected one knows anything."

Mearin studied him. "Are you sure? Did you notice anything unusual about his behavior?"

The man paused, thinking.

"I don't know if it's relevant… but he seemed scared. When we approached, he was either sleeping or unconscious. I told him to wake up—no reaction. It was only after Rud kicked him that he woke up, gasping. Like he came out of a nightmare."

Tas and Mearin exchanged troubled glances.

"That might be something," Mearin said. "You're dismissed."

Once the mage had left, Mearin turned to Tas.

"You think it's connected?"

Tas nodded thoughtfully. "If my theory's right… and he really can see the future, this could be a sign. I think we need to question him ourselves."

Mearin agreed. He grabbed his staff and made his way to Lance—the commander of the other group, who sat apart, studying a map and checking a compass.

As Mearin approached, Lance looked up and smiled faintly.

"Senior mage and priest? What can I do for you?"

"I'll be direct," Mearin said. "As you know, one of our own went missing during the night. I want to question your slave. I trust there's no objection."

The words were polite, but the tone made it clear: refusal wasn't an option.

Lance understood perfectly—and smiled knowingly. "Since you were kind enough to let us rest under your dome's protection, I suppose I should return the favor. Follow me."

The three of them exited the dome. Sairen still sat bound on the ground. He looked up as they approached—and his sharp, gray eyes locked onto Mearin's.

A chill ran through Mearin's spine. That gaze… he remembered it from the day before. Even then, it unsettled him. Something about those eyes felt inhuman.

Sairen recognized two of the men. One was the priest who had almost shot him. The other—an incredibly powerful mage who had nearly crushed him with a psychic strike.

Lance stepped closer.

"Hey, whatever your name is—doesn't matter. These gentlemen have questions. Be honest."

Mearin raised a brow. "You don't know his name?"

"Why would I?" Lance shrugged. "Anyway, he's yours now."

He turned and walked away.

Sairen was the first to speak. "I don't know anything. And if you want something, go to hell."

Tas grimaced. "Enough pretending. We know you know something. Talk, and maybe we'll help you get out of here."

Sairen raised his brows, smirking. "Alive or dead?"

Mearin cut in, his tone calm.

"My friend believes you may have the gift of foresight. If you help us locate him, we'll repay the favor—within reason."

Foresight? Sairen blinked. So that's what they thought. Probably because he'd dodged the falling debris the day before. They believed he'd seen it coming. So they took him for a seer.

That… could be useful.

"What do you want to know?"

"One of ours disappeared on watch. We need to know what happened," Tas said, unable to hide the distaste in his voice.

Sairen looked down at his bound wrists. "I can't help you like this."

Mearin waved his fingers. A gust of ether stirred, and glowing runes danced in the air. Sairen watched the spell arc gracefully through the air—calculated, precise. It wasn't a threat, just skilled control.

The ropes loosened and fell away.

Rubbing his wrists, Sairen thought:

If they want a prophet, he'd give them one—at least long enough to plan his escape.

"Just no tricks," Tas threw curtly, raising his hand without unnecessary movement and aiming the barrel of his pistol at Sairen.

The weapon in his hand didn't look like a common tool. In a world where mages used simplified models—ether amplifiers and spell boosters—Tas's pistol belonged to a completely different category. It was a device specifically attuned for priests.

Old Ke used to admire such wonders of magical engineering.

Sairen blinked. He clearly hadn't expected to see something like that in a place like this—if ever at all.

"First, I need to see the place. There's no other way," he lied.

He had no idea what he was supposed to find.

But time—that was all he needed right now.