Shattered Prophecy Part 3

The underground city loomed before them, a vast network of crumbling stone structures, eerie blue-lit corridors, and shadowed alleyways where unseen figures skulked. The Veiled One’s influence was everywhere—arcane symbols pulsed on the walls, chanting echoed through the cavernous streets, and the air carried the scent of burnt incense mixed with something far less pleasant.

“Alright,” Verin whispered, adjusting his cloak. “We need to find a way to the temple district without getting—”

He barely finished his sentence before Aric stepped forward, his heavy boot landing on what had once been a sturdy wooden plank. The board gave a loud, painful groan before cracking in half beneath his weight.

The sound echoed through the alley.

Everyone froze.

Verin sighed, rubbing his temples. “—noticed.”

Raelyn shot Aric a look. “Are you physically incapable of being sneaky?”

“I could be,” Aric muttered. “But then I’d be lying to myself.”

Liora, crouched nearby, was already suppressing laughter. “Oh, don’t be too hard on him. He’s just very... warrior-shaped.”

Before Aric could retort, a soft voice drifted from the shadows. “Did you hear that?”

The group tensed as two robed cultists rounded the corner, their glowing eyes searching the darkness. Liora, moving with a rogue’s grace, slipped behind a broken pillar, blending into the shadows. Raelyn and Verin pressed against the stone walls, silent as ghosts.

Aric, realizing there was absolutely nowhere large enough to hide his broad-shouldered frame, did the only thing he could.

He grabbed a tattered old cloak hanging from a nearby hook and threw it over himself, slouching against the alley wall.

The cultists stopped a few feet away. One of them sniffed the air. “Something’s off…”

Aric cleared his throat and, in what was possibly the worst impression of an old beggar ever attempted, muttered, “Spare a coin for an old man?”

Verin smacked his forehead.

The cultists blinked. One of them tilted his head.

“Do you belong here?” the second cultist asked suspiciously.

Aric gave a deep, exaggerated wheeze. “Ohhh, I been livin’ ‘ere fer years. Just ol’ Hermit Joe, that’s me.”

Liora, still hidden, audibly choked on a laugh.

The first cultist frowned. “There’s no ‘Hermit Joe’ in the lower quarter.”

Aric squinted at them. “Oh, that’s ‘cause I live in the upper quarter. But—uh—tough times, so now I’m here.”

The second cultist looked unconvinced. He took a step forward.

Before he could get any closer, Raelyn, ever the quick thinker, waved a hand in front of the cultists’ faces and whispered a short incantation. A gentle light shimmered in her palm, followed by a faint pulse of divine energy.

“Leave,” she whispered with unnatural authority, her cleric magic laced into her voice.

The cultists’ eyes glazed over. They turned on their heels and shuffled away, their footsteps echoing into the darkness.

The moment they were gone, Liora finally emerged, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. “Oh Hermit Joe, you almost killed me.”

Aric grumbled as he tossed the cloak aside. “You try hiding when you’re built like a fortress.”

Verin crossed his arms. “Maybe next time, don’t pick the worst accent I’ve ever heard?”

“I panicked,” Aric muttered.

Raelyn exhaled, shaking her head. “Well, at least we’re not dead.”

Liora smirked. “Yet.”

The group moved more cautiously after that, weaving through crumbling alleys and keeping to the shadows. As they neared the temple district, the air grew heavier, laced with the unmistakable hum of powerful magic. The buildings here were different—tall, looming towers of black stone with runes carved deep into their surfaces. The largest structure at the center pulsed with an eerie violet glow.

“There,” Verin whispered. “That’s where the Heart of the Abyss is being kept.”

Raelyn frowned. “How can you be sure?”

Verin’s eyes darkened as he traced the symbols along a ruined archway. “Because I recognize these markings. My family’s magic… it’s connected to this.”

Aric furrowed his brow. “I thought you said your magic came from years of study?”

Verin hesitated before answering. “It did. But my ancestors… they weren’t just scholars. Some of them experimented with the kind of magic we’re fighting against. I thought their legacy died out centuries ago, but if these runes are here, it means their knowledge survived.” He turned to face them, his voice quiet but firm. “It means The Veiled One might know exactly who I am.”

A heavy silence followed his words.

Then Liora clapped him on the back. “Well, good thing you’re on our side, then.”

He blinked at her. “You’re remarkably unconcerned about the possibility that I might be linked to ancient forbidden magic.”

Liora shrugged. “I used to work for a cult. Everyone’s got baggage.”

Raelyn gave Verin a reassuring nod. “Your past doesn’t define you. We trust you.”

Aric grunted. “And if The Veiled One does know you, that just means he won’t expect you to be leading the charge against him.” He grinned. “That’s our advantage.”

For the first time since discovering the runes, Verin exhaled, some of the tension in his shoulders easing. “Alright. Then let’s make sure we use it.”

The group edged toward the temple’s entrance, ducking behind cover as a pair of armored cultists patrolled the gate. Just as Liora began sizing up their next move, a voice rang out from above them.

“You’re trespassing, you know.”

They barely had time to react before the ground beneath them flared with magical energy. Runes burned to life, trapping them in a glowing circle of containment magic.

Liora cursed. “Damn it! How—”

The figure above them chuckled. From his perch atop a nearby balcony, a man in flowing dark robes smirked down at them. His face was hidden behind a silver mask, but his piercing violet eyes gleamed with cruel amusement.

“Well, well,” the figure mused. “We expected spies, but I must say—I wasn’t expecting you, Verin.”

Verin’s blood ran cold. “…You know me?”

The masked man tilted his head. “Oh, I know of you. And more importantly—” he gestured, and suddenly, the magic circle beneath them constricted, glowing even brighter, “—The Veiled One knows you too.”

Raelyn reached for her holy symbol, but the man tsked. “Ah, ah. None of that. You’ve walked straight into my trap, and there’s no easy way out.”

Liora clenched her fists. “You talk too much.”

The man smirked. “Perhaps. But it won’t matter in a moment.” He raised a hand, preparing to unleash whatever spell he had prepared.

Then the balcony beneath him suddenly groaned and cracked.

Everyone—including the masked man—froze.

There was a split second of silence before the balcony completely collapsed, sending him crashing down with a very undignified yelp.

As the dust cleared, Aric blinked. “Huh.”

Liora snorted. “And that’s why you don’t monologue from unstable architecture.”

Raelyn took the moment of distraction to quickly dispel the magic trap binding them.

The masked man groaned, barely pushing himself to his feet before Verin’s staff crackled with energy. “Your move,” Verin said, eyes narrowed.

The man hesitated. Then, deciding he was very much outnumbered, he bolted into the temple.

Liora rolled her shoulders. “Well. That went better than expected.”

Aric stretched. “I’d say ‘all according to plan,’ but we don’t have one.”

Raelyn sighed. “Then I guess we’re making it up as we go.”

With that, they chased after their fleeing enemy, deeper into the temple—and closer to the heart of their greatest challenge yet.

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All Parts of The Shattered Prophecy Series:

• The Shattered Prophecy Part 1
• The Shattered Prophecy Part 2
• The Shattered Prophecy Part 3
• The Shattered Prophecy Part 4
• The Shattered Prophecy Part 5