NOVEL NEXT Chapter 117: Ashera
He paused. Then added, "Also... I want a secondary team sent toward the 'dark' Sanctum. I need to know what happened there. But they're not to engage—only observe."
"And the Whispering Stone?" Kaelor asked. "It's calling... even now. Some of my kin feel it in their dreams."
Ethan turned back toward the map, his eyes distant.
"That Stone isn't done with us. And I doubt it was the only one. It's a key—but we don't know what lock it fits into yet."
---
Later That Night
The Sanctum slept. But Ethan could not.
He stood on a high balcony, overlooking the cracked stone horizon of the Great Labyrinth. Far to the northeast, a faint red glow pulsed every few seconds—like a heartbeat from the earth itself.
Kaeryx lay beside him in the shadows, its scales catching the faint glimmer of the rune flame. Its eye cracked open once, watching Ethan, before closing again.
"What are you really?" Ethan asked the dragon without turning.
There was no response, only a heavy breath from the beast. But Ethan wasn't expecting an answer. Not yet.
He clenched his fists.
He could feel it now—more clearly than ever before. Threads of fate tugging at him. Thick and heavy, like chains wrapped around his very soul. But where others were bound, his threads burned, unspooling at his will.
He could feel something beyond the Labyrinth. Watching. Waiting.
"You'll see soon enough," he murmured.
---
Elsewhere — In the Deep Labyrinth
Mist churned in forgotten catacombs. Shattered pillars lay across cracked marble. The remains of a fallen Sanctum. And in its center, the only light came from a well of glowing blue mist, swirling in unnatural stillness.
A woman stood before it. Cloaked in robes of stitched shadow and whispering threads, her face veiled beneath a mirrored hood. Her fingers danced over a hovering prism, and in its center—
Ethan's face flickered.
"He touched the Whispering Stone," she said softly. "It accepted him."
A low, disembodied growl echoed from the shadows behind her.
"The others will not stand by. You know what claiming a Core Sanctum will mean."
"I do," she said. "And that's why he must be guided."
"To salvation?" the voice mocked.
"No," she replied. "To a reckoning."
---
Back in the Sanctum
By dawn, orders had been dispatched. Teams were moving.
The southern corridor was under excavation, old tunnel systems mapped and catalogued by essence sensitivity. Gleem was deployed with them, its presence keeping even the slightest beast activity masked.
The training yard was full of Dragonkin warriors under Nelda's harsh, efficient drills. While most had innate strength and breath-related arts, coordination and discipline were lacking. That changed swiftly under her gaze.
Ethan stood with Kaelor and David as a new gate was being raised—engraved with both Draconian runes and human script. Unity wasn't declared in words. It was forged in stone.
And for the first time since entering the Labyrinth—
They had carved out a foothold.
But Ethan knew this was only the beginning.
Deep below, in the heart of the Labyrinth, something ancient stirred.
And it had waited long enough.
The Sanctum had begun to breathe with new life.
Dragonkin, once proud and insular, now moved in quiet respect through the halls. Ethan's banner—an improvised crest of black and crimson flame—hung beside the ancient sigil of the Draconic houses. Not as conquerors… but as successors.
For three days, the Sanctum worked without rest. Tunnels were cleared, chambers reinforced, and essential resources sorted. Kaeryx, though silent, was ever-present—its immense form resting atop the Sanctum's upper dome like a guardian spirit.
Yet beneath the surface of progress, something darker stirred.
Kaelor had returned from inspecting the subterranean archives with a pale expression. He met Ethan alone in the chamber of firelight, the golden flame still dancing from the rune altar.
"We found a sealed passage… buried beneath the Sanctum's spine. It was collapsed intentionally, reinforced with Draconic glyphwork. Someone didn't want it found."
Ethan narrowed his eyes. "Where does it lead?"
Kaelor hesitated. "Downward. Far deeper than the normal Sanctum grid. To a section labeled as 'The Veins of Flame.'"
"The Veins of Flame…" Ethan muttered, stepping closer to the altar. "What else did the records say?"
"They didn't. The rest of the tablet was… melted. Not by heat, but by essence corrosion."
Ethan remained silent for a long moment.
It was clear now—this Sanctum, though seemingly minor in the greater map of the Labyrinth, was older than it let on. It sat atop something forgotten… or hidden. And if there was a reason the Rune Stone had resonated so violently when he claimed it, that reason might lie below.
"We're opening it," Ethan said quietly.
Kaelor tensed. "You should rest. We've just stabilized above—"
"Rest comes later," Ethan cut in. "Get David, Nelda, and two Dragonkin scouts. We move tonight."
---
Later That Night — The Spine Below
The lower sanctum was quiet, lit only by torchlight and the faint phosphorescent glow of the walls. A cracked gate of silver bone and red obsidian stood before them. Runes pulsed faintly across its frame—wards of fire, blood, and oathbinding.
David stepped forward first, hand brushing along the glyphs.
"These were carved by something old. Not just Draconic. This is… hybrid magic."
"Hybrid?" Nelda asked, already pulling a dagger from her side. "What's the other part?"
David's brow furrowed.
"Human," he whispered.
A long silence followed. Then Kaeryx, standing behind them at the passage's threshold, gave a low growl. It didn't speak—but it didn't need to.
Ethan stepped forward. Raising his hand, he poured his mana directly into the gate.
The runes flared once—then shattered, crumbling like brittle ice under flame. The gate split open, revealing a spiraling path descending into a chamber lined with veins of glowing red crystal. They pulsed—slowly—like the heartbeat of something asleep.
The deeper they went, the thicker the air became. Not with dust, but with intent. It was as if the stones themselves were watching them.
And then… they reached it.
A circular platform surrounded by jagged cliffs of magma-stone. At its center was a well of flame—tall and still—rising from a blackened pit. But it wasn't fire. It moved too fluidly, its surface too smooth.
David knelt, whispering words of detection. His expression twisted. "It's not essence. It's… memory."
Ethan stepped toward it, entranced. The flames reacted to his approach, drawing upward—forming into a spiraling helix that hovered in the air before him.
Then it spoke.
Not in sound, but in impression. Images flared behind Ethan's eyes. A battlefield. A great war. Dragonkin fighting side by side with human Lords. And at the center, a boy wielding black flame—not of this world—standing against a creature made of void and teeth.
The vision shattered, and Ethan stumbled back, breath shallow.
David caught him. "What did you see?"
"A warning," Ethan murmured. "And a challenge."
He turned back to the group, gaze cold, mind spinning. "This isn't just a Sanctum. It's a seal. Whatever lies beneath the Labyrinth—it isn't just dead history. It's waking."
---
Back at the Surface Sanctum — Moments Later
An alarm horn sounded from the northeast wall.
Ethan was already sprinting by the time it blew again.
When he emerged onto the balcony above the wall, what he saw made his breath catch.
A skyship—black and crimson—was descending beyond the cliff wall. No flag. No banner. Just a sigil: a twisting ouroboros wrapped around a severed crown.
David joined him. "That's not from the surface."
Ethan nodded slowly. "No. That's from deeper in."
As the ship hovered, a single figure leapt from its deck. Cloaked in red armor, flame trailing from its boots as it landed with a thunderous boom in the outer yard.
It raised its head—and removed its helm.
A woman. Long silver hair. Eyes like molten gold. Her expression neutral, but her presence oppressive.
"I come on behalf of the Crimson Accord," she said. Her voice echoed unnaturally, as if layered with others.
"I have come for the one who claimed the Rune Stone."
All eyes turned to Ethan.
He stepped forward, Kaeryx's shadow looming behind him.
"I'm here," he said calmly.
The woman smiled.
"Then your trial has just begun."
The air was tense, almost viscous, as if the very atmosphere recognized the arrival of something foreign.
The woman stood still, her cloak of woven crimson scale fluttering in the wind. Every motion she made was deliberate—fluid, sharp, and too precise to be mistaken for anything but a seasoned warrior. Her golden eyes locked onto Ethan's like two burning suns, unblinking and fearless.
Kaeryx loomed behind him, silent but ready. The pressure of its draconic aura rippled outward in pulses—warning, watching.
Ethan narrowed his gaze, stepping down from the platform. His boots thudded softly against the stone, every stride purposeful. He stopped a few meters from her, arms relaxed at his sides, yet alert.
"…Who are you?" he asked.
"I am Ashara," the woman said, her voice echoing faintly with a layered resonance, like a chorus restrained behind a single throat. "Bearer of the Accord's Flame. Sentinel of the Inner Sanctums. The Rune Stone you claimed—does not belong to you."