The palace swallowed them whole.
The black metal doors shut behind Henry and Elara with a sound like a coffin sealing. The air inside was thick, warmer than the canyon outside, humming with the sound of unseen machines. Shafts of golden light cut down from the dome high above, catching the walls in fractured brilliance.
Henry slowed, fists clenched. His instincts screamed at him. Every step echoed too loud. Every shadow seemed to move.
Elara's voice broke the silence.
Elara: "This place feels more like a tomb than a palace."
Henry glanced at her, lips pressed thin. She didn't flinch beneath his look—her green aura still faintly simmered at her wrists, her face pale from the toll.
Henry: "We should find somewhere to rest. You pushed yourself too far outside."
Elara gave him a sharp little grin.
Elara: "Then you're lucky. I'm not like you. My Awakening doesn't burn through my body—it burns through food."
Henry blinked, caught off guard.
Henry: "…Food?"
Elara's stomach growled, perfectly timed. Her cheeks flushed.
Elara: "Don't laugh. If I don't eat after using it, I collapse. Energy's energy."
Henry couldn't help it. A short laugh slipped out, easing the tension in his chest.
They found the cantina two corridors down. A massive, empty hall lined with golden shelves and cold iron tables. The room still smelled faintly of oil and heat, though no cooks remained.
Elara immediately raided the shelves, tearing open rations and dried goods, devouring them like a starved wolf. Henry leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching.
Henry (smirking): "I've fought samurai, vampires, and even gods, but watching you eat is the scariest thing ever."
Elara, mouth full: "Shut up."
Elara wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, smirking.
Elara: "Better?" she teased.
Henry's smirk faded as he noticed something on the wall. A board, etched with glowing glyphs, showing a map of the palace. One section pulsed faintly: CONTROL ROOM – LEVEL 3.
Elara followed his gaze, wiping crumbs from her lip.
Elara: "That's where we go next. If we can access their systems, maybe we'll learn what this palace really is… and why Midas built it here."
Henry nodded. But before they could move, the cantina doors hissed open.
He wasn't looking at her anymore—he was watching the door rattling, glowing faintly as it unlocked.
Golden droids marched in.
Henry grabbed Elara's arm.
Henry: "Move!"
They sprinted through the back corridors, boots pounding against metal. Energy beams tore through the walls behind them, sparks raining down. Elara's aura flickered around them, deflecting stray shots, but she was slowing.
The labyrinth of the palace stretched endlessly. Black-gold halls bent and twisted, leading them deeper into the belly of the mountain.
Then Henry yanked open a side door. They tumbled inside. The room was dark, quiet, and—
Henry froze.
It wasn't a storage room.
The walls were lined with jagged markings, etched into the black metal with clawed precision. Some were symbols Henry didn't recognize. Others… he did. The crest of the Black Halo. Sketches of battles, half-formed, like memories forced into shape.
On the far wall, a cracked mirror hung crooked. In its reflection, faint smears of blood and ash distorted the glass.
Elara touched one of the carvings, her brow furrowing.
Elara: "This isn't a machine's room."
Henry's heart pounded. He knew this aura. He knew this madness.
Henry (low): "…Ravenous Halo."
Elara turned, startled by the name.
Elara: "You know this place?"
Henry: "Not the place. The man." His fists clenched, blue sparks dancing.
The walls whispered of obsession. Every carving was a wound, every symbol a scar pressed into metal. Henry felt as though he was standing inside Ravenous's soul, fractured and bleeding, trapped within iron walls. This wasn't just a room—it was confession and prison in one.
Henry: "I fought him, over and over, back when we fought the Black Halo. He killed Veyra. He killed Zorath."
Elara's eyes widened.
But Henry's gaze didn't leave the mirror. The air felt heavier now, as though the room itself were watching.
Henry: "And if this is his room… then he's not far."
The door behind them creaked.
Ravenous stood there.
The same man, the same crushing aura that once had brought Henry to his knees. But something was different; not only was his armor different, but his eyes also burned with a flicker Henry had never seen in him before—conflict.
For a moment, neither moved.
Ravenous: "…Henry Dreherg." His voice was calm, almost reverent. "So, it is true. You came."
Henry stepped in front of Elara, memory flashing in his mind—of the tunnels, the market and the fight in the city, where Ravenous killed Zorath.
Henry: "Ravenous Halo, you killed Veyra. I'll never forget that."
Ravenous's lips twitched, almost like a smile, almost like pain.
Ravenous: "It is only Ravenous now; the black halo died with Zorath, and yes… that is what I was made to do. What I was born as. A servant carved in another's image simply to kill."
Elara whispered, confused:
Henry cut her off, eyes narrowing.
Henry: "Something's wrong with him."
Because beneath Ravenous's voice, Henry heard it—cracks. A man fractured, Zorath's echoes bleeding into his words.
Ravenous stepped forward, slow and deliberate. His shadow stretched across the floor, reaching them.
Ravenous: "The question, Henry… is whether I am your enemy today. Or something else entirely."
The weight of his words pressed down on the chamber. Elara's aura flickered green. Henry's fists glowed faintly blue.
Neither side struck. Not yet.
But the air promised violence.
Henry remembered every clash with Ravenous—the cold precision, the merciless strikes, the way the man had cut down allies like wheat beneath a scythe.
He remembered Veyra's body, Zorath's fall, and the despair that Ravenous's name had once carried. And yet, standing here, Henry didn't feel that same fear. Instead, he felt something else: pity.
Because Ravenous's aura was fractured, a storm was torn in two directions. The man was no longer a blade wielded by another's hand—he was a broken weapon trying to decide whether to shatter or turn itself into something new.