The underground passage stretched before them, dimly lit by enchanted torches flickering with pale blue light. The stone corridor carried a damp chill, whispering with the echoes of their footsteps.

  Five figures moved through the narrow pathway.

  Three humans walked at the front—Aelith, Caelum, and Thorne—each step heavy with tension. Behind them, a humanoid figure followed in silence, its very presence distorting the air around it.

  And then, there was Frid.

  His gait was uneven, his form hunched, as he kept glancing back at the entity walking behind them. His lips trembled with giggles, muttering words to the empty air beside him. His eyes, half-lidded and feverish, gleamed with unsettling delight.

  "Ah… Agatha… it walks with us. It listens. Do you see? Do you understand?"

  No one responded.

  Caelum’s fingers twitched toward his blade. Aelith pressed her lips into a thin line. Thorne kept his silence, though his steps remained cautious.

  And the entity—Eo—followed without a word.

  Aelith's mind churned, recalling the events before they made their descent into the underground chamber.

  Eo had spoken.

  Not just in fragmented imitations—but in deliberate, precise words.

  "Why?"

  The question had been directed at Frid.

  Why did he revere him? Why did he bow?

  Frid had lifted his gaze, his ruined face stretching into something grotesquely joyous.

  "Because… you are beyond."

  Aelith had barely restrained a shiver at the reverence in his voice.

  Then, Frid’s words took a turn into pure madness.

  "Agatha… we can bring her back. You can bring her back. Together, we will walk beyond death. You will bless us, won’t you? Won’t you, my divine?"

  His blood-streaked grin widened.

  "Immortality. Eternal existence. You will grant it. Yes… yes… yes."

  Aelith had glanced at Eo, expecting a reaction.

  And there had been one—confusion.

  The entity had simply stared at Frid, as if trying to dissect the meaning of his words.

  Then, without further acknowledgment, he had turned away.

  Ignoring Frid entirely.

  It had been Aelith who broke the silence.

  "Come with us."

  Eo’s gaze had flickered toward her.

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  "We will show you why he worships you."

  Her own voice had surprised her. She wasn’t sure what had driven her to suggest it—curiosity, perhaps? A desperate need to understand what had twisted Frid into this state?

  Or maybe, just maybe, she wanted to see how far Eo’s understanding of humans could go.

  Before Eo could respond, Caelum had interjected.

  "That thing cannot walk among mortals."

  His words were blunt, edged with warning.

  "Its presence alone will cause panic. Chaos. He needs to—"

  Eo had tilted his head, absorbing the statement.

  Then, before anyone could explain further, his form shifted.

  His structure condensed, his humanoid shape becoming more defined. Limbs gained proportion, a semblance of muscle and bone forming beneath his translucent skin.

  He had molded himself into something human-like.

  Yet he still shimmered—his body retaining its fluid, water-like texture, his features lacking distinct human detail.

  Still, the shift was enough.

  Enough to walk among them without inciting immediate terror.

  And so, they had begun their journey back to the underground chamber.

  The chamber was vast, lined with towering bookshelves filled with ancient tomes and relics. The air smelled of old parchment and lingering magic, thick with the weight of centuries.

  Aelith’s gaze swept the familiar surroundings, but her focus remained on Eo.

  Would this place reveal the reason behind Frid’s descent into madness?

  Would Eo understand?

  The entity stood at the entrance of the chamber, his fluid form shifting under the flickering torchlight.

  And then, for the first time since they arrived—Eo spoke.

  “Show me.”

  Aelith’s fingers trailed over the brittle edges of an old scroll, carefully unfurling the ancient parchment. The scent of dust and aged ink lingered in the air as she cleared her throat.

  “This is Tangea’s history,” she began, her voice steady. “Or, at least, what is recorded.”

  Eo sat motionless, his liquid-like form shifting subtly under the flickering torchlight. Though he had already grasped the general structure of the world, he remained silent, listening. Every unfamiliar term, every historical nuance, he absorbed with meticulous focus.

  When something puzzled him, he asked.

  Not in fragmented words as before.

  But fully formed sentences.

  Aelith, Caelum, and Thorne noticed it—how quickly he was adapting, refining his speech with each interaction. The strange, eerie presence he once had was now tempered by something more human-like.

  And so, they continued.

  Tangea had seen the rise and fall of many powers.

  Empires built on conquest, knowledge, or faith had shaped and shattered the world across centuries.

  There was the Empire of Valska, a kingdom that once thrived under a dynasty of scholars and magi. It had flourished due to its advancements in alchemy and enchantments, creating artifacts that altered the very fabric of reality. But greed had rotted its foundation. A war erupted between factions vying for control, and in the end, the empire collapsed under its own weight.

  Then there was the Kingdom of Darhelm, which rose from the ashes of Valska’s ruin. Unlike its predecessor, it thrived on strict military rule, forging an age of warlords and mercenary kings. The Darhelmian generals expanded their borders ruthlessly, crushing all resistance—until their final battle against the northern tribes. Outnumbered and overconfident, Darhelm fell in a single, brutal war that erased its name from maps forever.

  And then, of course, there was the most infamous tale of all—the Sundering of Ivrein.

  Ivrein had been a kingdom ruled by a powerful bloodline, blessed by the celestial heavens. For centuries, they wielded divine magic, unchallenged. But history twisted when an ambitious noble sought to steal the heavens' favor for himself. The result? A catastrophe that shattered the land, splitting Ivrein’s capital into nothing but ruins.

  “A kingdom reduced to rubble by its own ambition,” Caelum remarked.

  Eo blinked, processing the information.

  “You destroy yourselves often,” he stated.

  There was no malice in his voice—just pure observation.

  Thorne exhaled, shaking his head. “Power shifts. It’s the nature of things.”

  “Because you seek power?” Eo asked.

  There was a brief silence.

  Then, finally, Aelith spoke. “Yes.”

  This continued for four days.

  The chamber became their world—its walls lined with books and scrolls, its air thick with whispered knowledge.

  Aelith, Thorne, and Caelum took turns explaining everything they knew. Magic, history, philosophy.

  And as they taught, they watched.

  Eo wasn’t just listening.

  He was learning.

  And they all came to the same conclusion.

  Eo was the key.

  The key to what they all sought.

  Power.