NOVEL NEXT Chapter 116: Keeping Order...
Within its core chamber, a woman of porcelain skin and ink-black hair opened her eyes. Her gaze turned toward the ripple—the claiming of the Rune Stone.
"So... another rises," she whispered. "And he bears the mark of defiance."
Behind her, a tapestry of glass mirrors reflected not her face—but Ethan's, standing proudly in the Dragonkin Sanctum.
"Shall we greet him, Mistress?" a voice slithered from the dark.
"Not yet," she murmured, smiling faintly. "Let him gather his pieces. The game has only just begun.
---
Back at the Dragonkin Sanctum
Ethan stood atop one of the high spires, wind howling around him. He watched his people below—Claimants, as they now called themselves—working together to build, to secure, to survive.
But his eyes were fixed beyond.
Toward the next sanctum.
Toward the unknown.
And in his chest, the Rune Stone he had claimed pulsed faintly—like a heartbeat.
Calling others to rise.
Challenging him to contin
The sun never truly rose in the Great Labyrinth. Its light filtered in faintly through fractured domes of mana glass high above, casting the world in hues of silver and blue. Beneath those ghostly beams, the Dragonkin Sanctum had begun to take on a new rhythm.
Ethan stood at the edge of the Sanctum's central spire, arms crossed, cloak fluttering behind him. Below, the once-hostile Dragonkin worked beside his team—repairing outer fortifications, rerouting essence channels, and stabilizing the Sanctum Rune Stone's protective wards.
Order was returning. But order was only a shell without vision.
David approached from behind, a small scroll tucked under his arm. "The scouts returned. Kaelor's knowledge of the terrain proved invaluable. We've charted most of the tunnels leading out from this Sanctum, and there's something else..."
He unrolled the scroll and pointed to an etched location northeast of the Sanctum—barely a smudge on the parchment, marked only with runes that twisted when looked at too long.
"The Whispering Stone. It's real. They found it."
Ethan's gaze narrowed.
"Where?"
"About six miles northeast through jagged territory—uncharted tunnels, mostly dormant. No active Sanctums nearby, but heavy residual mana in the air. The terrain's strange too. Time seems... fuzzy, the closer you get."
Ethan didn't hesitate. "Assemble a small group. I'm going."
---
Several Hours Later
The air was colder here. Not just in temperature—but in feeling.
The path to the Whispering Stone was a winding descent through cracked basalt, old obsidian vines, and walls lined with murals that pulsed faintly under Kaeryx's light. The dragon-beast hovered overhead, silent as always, but its eyes scanned every corner, sensing the pressure in the air.
Ethan's group was small: Kaelor, the Dragonkin scout who had guided them with uncanny precision; Nelda, his stealth specialist; David for tactical insight; and Gleem—the slime, who, though still silent and amorphous, had proven to be their greatest detection buffer.
"This place feels off," Nelda muttered, crouched beside a chasm of shimmering mist. "Like it's been untouched... yet watched."
David nodded. "It's saturated with soul-essence. A place like this predates the Sanctums."
As they pressed forward, the passage opened into a hollowed-out crater, its interior ringed by countless stone figures—all carved into the likeness of kneeling people from every known race: humans, elves, orcs, dragonkin, even dwarves.
And in the center stood the Whispering Stone.
It wasn't just a monolith. It floated, hovering inches off the ground, carved in impossible geometry. Its surface constantly shifted—one second obsidian, the next clear crystal, then pulsing bone-white quartz. From time to time, words in unknown languages shimmered across its surface before vanishing like smoke.
Kaelor knelt immediately, his head lowered.
"This is the oldest relic my people knew of. We were taught to avoid it. It speaks... in dreams. My brother stared too long once. He forgot his own name."
Ethan stepped forward carefully.
He stopped just short of the floating stone, letting Kaeryx drift beside him. "What is it trying to say?"
The Whispering Stone pulsed once.
And then it spoke—not aloud, but directly into Ethan's soul.
"Awakened not by chance... but defiance."
Ethan stiffened.
"Another bearer... in this cycle of rot. Will you become ruin—or salvation?"
"Who are you?" Ethan asked aloud.
The voice responded not with a name, but a sensation—an echo of pain, war, and fire falling from stars.
Kaeryx growled low beside him, eyes glowing.
Ethan reached forward. His fingers brushed the surface of the Whispering Stone.
A flood of visions surged into his mind.
Endless sanctums, locked in war. A past civilization fractured by the Labyrinth's birth. Souls torn, fused, trapped in time. And then—a flash of a throne beneath the earth. Not one of power—but one of burden. The Core Sanctum.
And at its center... a stone with the same shifting surface, waiting. Bleeding. Watching.
Ethan staggered back, breath shallow.
The others caught him before he collapsed.
"What did you see?" David asked, his face pale.
"I saw where all this leads," Ethan said. "And it's deeper than any of us imagined."
---
Back at the Dragonkin Sanctum
When they returned, the air felt heavier.
Word of the Whispering Stone's disturbance had spread among the Dragonkin. Some knelt in prayer. Others feared what would come next. But none questioned Ethan's decision to go there.
Ethan met with the group again that evening. Around a fire, with roasted serpent meat and glowing fungus stew, he shared what little he could of the vision.
"The Whispering Stone is tied to the Labyrinth's origin. It's a remnant of a power buried so deep, even the gods forgot it. But not the Labyrinth. Not the Rune Stones."
Nelda furrowed her brow. "You think this… Core Sanctum is real?"
"I don't think. I know." Ethan's voice was iron. "It's the heart of all this. The center. And I'm going to claim it."
There was a pause. Then David smirked.
"Then we better keep moving."
---
Unbeknownst to them...
Far beyond, in another Sanctum cast in eternal shadow, mirrors cracked without sound. The Mistress of Reflections sat motionless, her eyes fixed on the shifting glass.
"The Whispering Stone has stirred," she said softly.
She ran a hand across the surface of her mirror, and Ethan's reflection flickered into view.
"So... you have seen it too."
From the darkness, her twin retainers stepped forward, each cloaked in mirror fragments and veils of silence.
"Shall we move?" one asked.
"Not yet," she whispered. "Let him dive deeper. When he reaches the Core... he will have no choice but to face me."
The sanctum had calmed, but a hush still loomed over its newly forged unity. It was the stillness that came after a storm, but not before another. The Dragonkin walked the halls with heads bowed—not in shame, but in awe. Wherever Kaeryx moved, silence followed. Reverence. And wherever Ethan stood, whispers traveled on the wind, spoken in languages long lost to the surface world.
Ethan stood before the central flame altar, a relic from the Sanctum's original builders. The flame now burned gold, fed not by wood or oil, but by the ambient essence of the Rune Stone he'd claimed. Its aura flickered across the polished obsidian walls and etched ancient murals in gold.
Kaeryx was coiled in the upper dome, resting but alert. A single flick of its tail sent tremors through the reinforced crystal ceiling. The dragon-beast had not said a word—not in voice nor mind—but the understanding between it and Ethan had become something deeper. Unspoken. Etched in bloodline and fate alike.
Around the long central table, the leaders gathered.
David, standing beside a holograph-like mana map projected by the Rune Stone's resonance. Kaelor, now appointed the Sanctum's liaison for the Dragonkin—his transformation in demeanor was stark. No longer defensive, he was proud. Honored. Nelda sat silently, daggers twirling between her fingers, listening with sharp eyes.
Even Gleem, the slime, occupied its own glass containment orb on the table's edge, wobbling ever so slightly with anticipation.
"We've confirmed at least five minor Sanctums within reachable distance," David began. "Three are dormant. One shows signs of conflict. And the last..." He tapped the rune projection. "Has gone dark."
"Dark?" Ethan's voice cut through like a blade.
"No life signatures. No essence activity. Just... absence. Like something devoured it."
A silence fell. Even Kaeryx stirred slightly above.
"It's close," Kaelor added. "Too close. If something's consuming Sanctums, it means more than territorial conquest. It means destabilization. If enough rune anchors fall, the Labyrinth's structure could collapse in that region. Mana storms. Spatial inversions. Collapse zones."
Nelda looked to Ethan. "What do we do?"
Ethan's gaze swept the table. "We move. But we don't just react."
He turned to the central flame and, with a subtle twist of his wrist, caused the flame to stretch and coil, responding to his aura.
"We stabilize this Sanctum. Expand its reach. Begin mapping and fortifying a proper supply corridor through the southern passages. If we're going to explore the core... we need to make sure we have a way back."
David nodded. "We'll need teams. Souler scouts. Healers. Barrier crafters."
Ethan nodded. "Recruit from the Sanctum population. Dragonkin warriors who've accepted Kaeryx's suppression. We train them to work with us."