The fall wasn't as long as Ryn expected.

That was the first thing he noticed. Too short of a full cavern collapse, yet too controlled for natural ground.

Stone rushed up, then—impact.

Ryn hit hard, using Snow's ice platform to barely slow the descent. His shoulder slammed against packed earth as momentum rolled him across the ground.

He twisted instinctively, boots scraping for any friction he could find, until his back struck something solid and unmoving.

A solid sheet of metal.

The impact rang dully through his spine.

But he didn't have time to focus on the pain.

Voices echoed around him—Amelia swearing sharply, Jay groaning as he rolled onto his side, Taylor coughing as she pushed herself upright.

Fritz landed hard nearby, one knee striking the ground as he drove his sword down to steady himself.

For a moment, there was only disorientation.

The sound of water still rushed above them.

Cold runoff poured through the jagged opening they'd torn into the ground, spilling down the slanted walls and pooling along carved grooves in the floor.

The place was a mess of debris and dampness.

Then, something caught his ear. The hum of some kind of electrical wire or electricity…something powering on.

Ryn's suspicions were confirmed as the lights overhead flickered to life.

Panels embedded in the walls glowed to life one after another, pale, their brightness unaffected by the water pouring past them.

Ryn knew for sure this wasn't a manalite bulb. Light infused manalite had to be close by to power the whole thing on, and with Ryn's Blessing, he would've easily detected it.

This was something else.

He pushed himself upright, ignoring the ache in his shoulder.

"Everyone alright?" he asked.

A few murmured responses followed. Fritz was already on his feet, blade still in hand, eyes sweeping the room for any incoming threats.

Amelia rolled her shoulder once, wincing but alright. Taylor pushed damp hair back from her face, gaze moving faster now to the surroundings.

Only Jay didn't answer right away.

He crouched near the far wall, fingers hovering just short of touching something embedded into the structure.

"…Ryn," he said slowly. "You should come look at this."

Ryn crossed the room, boots splashing through shallow runoff. The water was already being guided away, drawn into narrow channels cut deliberately into the floor, disappearing into drains that swallowed it without a sound.

Jay pointed.

Set into the wall were several matte-black panels, each about the size of a shield. Their surfaces were worn smooth, edges reinforced with thick metal brackets.

Cables fed into them from above and below, bundled together in dense knots before vanishing into the walls.

Ryn even saw his reflection within the surface as he moved closer.

Jay glanced up at him. "You seeing this?"

Ryn knelt beside him.

Up close, the panels were unmistakably old. One bore a thin fracture running diagonally across its surface, sealed with a dark resin applied long after the damage had occurred.

Maintenance.

"What do you think?" Ryn asked.

Jay shook his head slowly. "Never seen anything like it."

He hesitated, eyes flicking between the cables and the panel itself.

"If I were to guess," he continued. "They look really similar to a water projector?"

Before he could respond, a sound echoed through the chamber.

Slow clapping, coming from the rising steam.

Ryn stood immediately, hand going to Snow.

From the far end of the chamber, a massive silhouette stepped into the light.

Kharvos Bloodmane emerged through the haze, his hands coming together in measured applause.

At his waist hung a small device.

Black and rectangular, it looked like some kind of machine, yet it was self-contained, almost like a controller of some sort.

Kharvos's gaze swept across the group, then settled briefly on the panel Jay had been examining.

"…Good eyes," he said evenly.

The shift was immediate.

Fritz stepped forward half a pace, blade sliding free in a clean, practiced motion. The air around him tightened as Wind Essence gathered instinctively on the tip of his blade.

Amelia's flames burst to life along her palms. Taylor moved without speaking, angling herself to the side

Jay backed away from the panel, grip tightening on his backpack as his gaze flicked between Kharvos and the controller at his waist.

Ryn took one step forward.

Then stopped.

Kharvos hadn't moved.

"Easy," he said calmly.

The word cut cleanly through the tension.

"There's no need to rush," he continued, eyes resting on Fritz just long enough to be deliberate. "If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't have had time to stand."

The water continued to pour through the ceiling breach, hissing softly as it was redirected along the floor. The hum of the machinery never wavered.

Kharvos lifted the controller slightly, not activating it—just letting it be seen.

"I didn't bring you here to fight," he said. "Not yet."

Ryn's eyes narrowed. "Then why?"

Kharvos's gaze returned to him, sharp and assessing.

"Because I'm seeking answers just as you are," he replied.

He turned, gesturing with two fingers toward the far wall.

"And you," Kharvos looked at Ryn dead in the eye. "Know something that I don't."

The screens behind him flickered.

"Before we resume back to violence," he continued. "…I want to show you something."

Light suddenly burst forth from the screens as Kharvos pressed something on his controller.

Sound suddenly erupted from the hall, coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

At first, it was only one sound, like fire eating away at old paper. Then the noise turned into something more. Voices.

Dozens of them, shouting, pleading, screaming…

The screens shifted.

The image that formed was old. The colors were muted and edge warped.

Buildings stood in the background, structures that looked eerily similar to the ones he'd seen on the Isles, banners hanging from their walls with symbols that Ryn recognized immediately.

Human cities.

At the center of the frame stood beastfolk.

Not Bloodmane.

Different tribes. Some looked closer to animals than people, their movements awkward and uncertain. Many were bound, while others were held at blade's tip.

The camera shook.

Someone screamed.

Kharvos spoke over it, his voice calm despite the chaos spilling from the screens.

"This is one of the earliest records that we've found," he said.

The image jumped.

A human stepped forward, shouting something the audio failed to catch. The crowd responded with jeers. Stones flew. One struck a beastfolk across the face, sending them sprawling.

"They hated our ancestors," Kharvos continued evenly. "Not feared them. Not misunderstood them."

"Hated them."

The word landed heavier this time.

"I don't know why," he said. "Every record begins after the hatred had already taken root."

Beastfolk driven from a settlement. Fires in the distance. Children cried as they were dragged along by shaking hands.

"They called us impure," Kharvos went on. "Aberrations. Mistakes that should've been corrected."

His thumb brushed the controller absently.

"And they taught those words to their children."

Ryn felt his jaw tighten.

He'd connected the dots.

The first Evernight that had ravaged humanity—the one Asteris had driven back—would've done the same thing the one he'd experienced did.

It twisted beasts into monsters.

Back then, beastfolk had been closer to their origins. Less removed. Less separated from what Evernight corrupted first.

If entire regions had been overrun by feral monstrosities bearing familiar shapes…

Hatred wouldn't have needed much encouragement.

Fear would've done the rest.

It was akin to destroying somebody's house, then asking them to look after your kid.

The footage kept playing.

Beastfolk forced across barren land, camps forming in the edges of territory no one wanted. Specifically, the cold, barren ice land…of Dheam.

Kharvos spoke again, quieter now—not because he was softening, but because he didn't need to raise his voice.

"But fate always has a hand to play," he said. "What we once thought were stories told by our elders… eventually came back to us."

He gestured broadly, not to the screens, but to the entire area.

Ryn knew what he was talking about.

Central. Or more specifically, a piece of the Isles that the beastfolk lived in.

Fate had a cruel sense of humor.

The beastfolk, exiled to Dheam and written off as remnants of a forgotten war, had survived because of their ancestors' legacy—

the same one that had made humanity fear them in the first place.

Fritz moved.

The scrape of his boot against the wet metal floor cut through the quiet, sharp and sudden. He straightened fully, sword in hand as he spoke his mind.

"…Why does this matter?"

The screens continued to hum behind Kharvos, their light washing the chamber in pale color.

Fritz took another step forward, jaw tight.

"You think we're going to feel sympathy for you?" he continued.

"After everything you've shown us?"

His grip tightened.

"You talk about hatred and exile, about being driven out and forgotten, but you're doing the same thing."

He gestured sharply toward the screens, toward Dheam itself.

"To your own people."

Amelia stiffened. Jay glanced sideways. Taylor's expression darkened.

Fritz didn't stop.

"You starve them. You hunt them down. You decide who eats and who doesn't," he said, voice hard.

"So why should any of this excuse what Bloodmane's doing now?"

Kharvos stopped.

The hum of the machinery seemed louder in the sudden stillness.

Slowly, he turned back toward Fritz.

For a heartbeat, the calm held.

Then it shattered.

"Again," Kharvos said, voice dropping low, rough with something raw beneath it.

"You, of all people, shouldn't be questioning me."

The controller at his side went dark as he let it fall from his hand.

It clattered against the metal floor.

"When it was your kind," Kharvos continued, each word pressed out like a wound being reopened, "that put us here."

The air around him shifted, water around him rippling as his Essence infused into them.

"You ask me why this matters," he snarled. "You ask me why I don't show mercy—"

His hand closed around the hilt of his sword.

Steel screamed as it cleared the sheath.

"—WHEN MERCY WAS NEVER EXTENDED TO US IN THE FIRST PLACE!"

The distance vanished.

Steel met steel in a thunderous clash that sent a shockwave tearing through the chamber. Wind howled outward as Fritz skidded back half a step, boots carving deep grooves into the wet metal floor.

Kharvos didn't yield.

Their blades locked, sparks bursting between them as raw force ground against controlled precision.

Fritz's arms trembled as he held the bind.

Kharvos leaned in, eyes burning.

"This world was decided long before you were born," he growled. "And now you stand here, wearing its blessing, telling me how I should grieve?"

"I spit on your arrogance, Fritz Calder."

With that sentence, he struck Fritz's sword aside as he delivered an attack.

A thrust…right through the Hero's stomach.

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