"My little brother is alive."
The words echoed across the underground city.
Silence followed.
Absolute silence.
Nobody moved.
Nobody breathed.
Nobody spoke.
The ancient city seemed frozen in time as the smiling young man stood amidst the ruins of the shattered tower, gazing directly at Kael with amused curiosity. Golden light poured from the broken Lock behind him while fragments of ancient stone continued falling into the city below.
Yet nobody noticed.
Nobody cared.
The words had stolen all attention.
My little brother is alive.
Aren blinked.
Then blinked again.
Then slowly raised one trembling finger.
"No."
Nobody responded.
The boy looked increasingly horrified.
"No."
Another pause.
Then:
"Absolutely not."
The underground city remained silent.
Aren pointed at Kael.
Then toward the smiling young man.
Then back toward Kael.
"No."
The reaction felt surprisingly reasonable.
Because nobody understood what was happening anymore.
Not the soldiers.
Not the scholars.
Not the students.
Not even General Caelan.
The military commander remained calm, but his eyes had narrowed considerably.
The young man, meanwhile, continued smiling.
His gaze never left Kael.
Not for a second.
The attention felt suffocating.
Like standing beneath the gaze of a star.
The mark burned.
The symbol on Kael's hand radiated golden light strong enough to illuminate the observation platform.
The reaction hadn't stopped since the young man emerged from the tower.
If anything—
It was growing stronger.
The realization unsettled him.
Then Theron finally found his voice.
The old caretaker looked pale.
Terrified.
Broken.
His eyes remained fixed on the smiling figure.
"No."
The word escaped him like a prayer.
The young man looked amused.
"Still saying that?"
Theron staggered backward.
"You died."
The statement echoed through the cavern.
For the first time, the smile weakened.
The young man's expression became thoughtful.
Almost nostalgic.
"Died?"
He tilted his head slightly.
The motion seemed strangely human.
Too human.
"As I recall..."
A pause followed.
"I was imprisoned."
A chill swept across the city.
The distinction felt important.
Very important.
Theron looked devastated.
The old caretaker shook his head.
"No."
His voice cracked.
"The war ended."
The young man laughed.
A soft laugh.
A warm laugh.
A terrifying laugh.
"The war never ended."
The city trembled.
The words seemed to carry weight.
Meaning.
Power.
Golden light surged through the broken tower.
Ancient symbols illuminated.
The prison screamed.
The young man looked upward.
Toward the unseen ceiling hidden beyond darkness.
His smile slowly disappeared.
"The battlefield simply became quiet."
Nobody spoke.
Because suddenly the underground city felt much older.
Much darker.
Much more dangerous.
The history buried beneath it had only begun revealing itself.
And already it sounded horrifying.
General Caelan stepped forward.
The military commander ignored the pressure filling the cavern.
Ignored the impossible being standing before them.
Ignored the terror spreading throughout the city.
"What are you?"
The question echoed softly.
The young man looked toward him.
Then smiled again.
Not mockingly.
Not arrogantly.
Almost politely.
"A prisoner."
Nobody liked that answer.
Especially after watching him throw the Warden across multiple districts with a casual wave.
The young man noticed.
His smile widened.
"Oh."
A pause.
"Former prisoner."
That somehow felt worse.
Much worse.
The city shook.
Another tremor rolled through the cavern.
The Dreamers immediately reacted.
Thousands of pale faces turned toward the darkness beneath the city.
Toward the depths hidden below.
Toward the Sleeper.
The young man noticed.
Then sighed.
The sound carried genuine disappointment.
"It woke up."
Nobody understood.
Then the realization arrived.
The Sleeper.
The young man wasn't talking about himself.
He was talking about the Sleeper.
The ancient being capable of destroying civilizations through dreams.
The jailer.
The guardian.
The thing everyone feared.
The young man sounded annoyed.
As though someone had interrupted his nap.
The thought was deeply disturbing.
Theron noticed too.
The old caretaker looked horrified.
"You remember."
The young man blinked.
"Of course I remember."
Silence.
Then:
"It was only a few thousand years."
Nobody knew how to respond.
Aren looked physically injured by that sentence.
The boy slowly lowered himself into a sitting position.
Again.
"I am no longer participating in reality."
Nobody stopped him.
The statement felt fair.
Very fair.
The young man ignored everyone except Kael.
His eyes remained fixed upon the glowing mark.
Upon the ancient symbol.
Upon something only he seemed capable of seeing.
Then his expression changed.
For the first time—
He looked sad.
The emotion lasted only a moment.
Yet everyone saw it.
"You really survived."
The words sounded genuine.
Not manipulative.
Not threatening.
Genuine.
The young man slowly stepped out of the shattered tower.
The city trembled.
Not because of his weight.
Because reality itself seemed unstable around him.
Every movement distorted space.
Every step caused ancient symbols throughout the city to flicker.
The prison was rejecting his existence.
Trying desperately to contain him.
Failing.
He took another step.
The Warden finally returned.
The colossal guardian erupted from the ruins of a distant district and charged.
Golden light exploded across the city.
Ancient chains illuminated.
Entire districts glowed.
The guardian moved with impossible speed.
The city itself seemed to lend it strength.
For the first time since its appearance—
The Warden looked angry.
Truly angry.
The giant guardian crossed the city in seconds.
One enormous fist descended toward the smiling young man.
The impact never arrived.
The young man simply raised one hand.
The Warden stopped.
The sight froze everyone.
The guardian's fist remained suspended in midair.
Unable to move.
Unable to advance.
The young man looked almost embarrassed.
"You always were stubborn."
Then he flicked his finger.
The Warden vanished.
Not thrown.
Not pushed.
Vanished.
One moment it existed.
The next it had been launched beyond the visible districts of the underground city.
A shockwave erupted across the cavern.
Towers collapsed.
Bridges shattered.
Entire streets disappeared.
The city screamed.
The young man sighed.
"Sorry."
The apology sounded sincere.
That somehow made everything worse.
Because it meant he wasn't trying.
Not even slightly.
The realization settled heavily over the expedition.
If this was restraint—
Nobody wanted to see effort.
Kael felt the mark pulse violently.
The reaction arrived immediately.
The world vanished.
Darkness returned.
The throne returned.
The bells returned.
The Sleeper remained seated.
Only now it wasn't alone.
The young man stood within the dream.
Far away.
Near the second throne.
The broken throne.
The empty throne.
The First Son.
The realization settled instantly.
This wasn't a memory.
This wasn't a vision.
This was the past.
The Sleeper watched silently.
The First Son stood nearby.
Neither spoke.
The atmosphere felt strange.
Not hostile.
Not friendly.
Like two ancient mountains observing one another.
Then Kael noticed something.
The First Son wasn't chained.
The Sleeper was.
Countless black chains wrapped around the ancient jailer.
The realization stunned him.
Then the dream shifted.
The First Son turned.
And looked directly at him.
Not through him.
Not toward him.
At him.
The impossible moment froze reality.
The First Son smiled.
Then spoke.
"You can see this?"
The vision shattered.
Reality returned.
Kael staggered.
The city reappeared.
The tower.
The Dreamers.
The expedition.
Everything returned.
And the smiling young man was staring directly at him.
The same smile.
The same expression.
The same eyes.
The realization struck instantly.
He remembered the vision.
The First Son laughed.
A genuine laugh.
Filled with surprise.
Filled with amusement.
"Interesting."
The city became silent.
Even the Dreamers stopped moving.
The young man slowly tilted his head.
Then spoke words that sent a chill through every person present.
"You can see the memories."
Nobody understood.
Nobody except Theron.
The old caretaker's face lost all color.
The reaction was immediate.
The First Son noticed.
Then smiled wider.
"Ah."
Recognition appeared.
"You know what that means."
Theron looked ready to collapse.
The old man shook his head.
"No."
The response came instantly.
"No."
The First Son laughed.
"You've been saying that a lot."
Another tremor shook the city.
Far below.
Deep beneath the world.
The Sleeper moved.
This time everyone felt it.
The reaction swept through the cavern like a storm.
The Dreamers fell to their knees.
The city groaned.
Ancient symbols illuminated.
And for the first time—
The First Son stopped smiling.
The change was immediate.
The atmosphere shifted.
The cavern grew colder.
Darker.
Dangerous.
The young man's gaze slowly drifted downward.
Toward the depths beneath the city.
Toward the Sleeper.
Toward his ancient jailer.
For several moments, he remained silent.
Then he sighed.
A tired sigh.
An old sigh.
The sigh of someone preparing for an unpleasant conversation.
"He always was impatient."
The city trembled.
The prison screamed.
The Dreamers began chanting.
And somewhere beneath the world—
The Sleeper finally began to rise.