Paths Beyond (Under Rewrite)

Due to my growing responsibilities, I now find myself only one chapter ahead in this story. Additionally, I've embarked on an exciting new project: a novel written in the first person. But let me assure you—this journey with Paths Beyond is far from over. My commitment to writing every day remains steadfast, and now it will fuel both books.

Thank you for your continued support and patience. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.

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"Elder, what is it?" Keen asked again, his voice sharp with urgency, the tension clear in his furrowed brow.

"Quiet," Elder hushed him with a frail wave of his trembling hand. "I need to confirm this. Follow me."

The ancient man trudged forward, his cane tapping lightly against the smooth stone floor with each careful step. His breath came in shallow huffs, yet his pace remained steady. Keen and Grey exchanged a glance before falling into step behind him, unease and curiosity brewing in their chests like a slow, smoldering fire.

For Elder to be drawn away from the treasure trove of Central Organs, whatever lay ahead had to be extraordinary—or terrifying.

The final room they entered was much like the others: smooth onyx walls seamlessly fused with ancient stone, every surface polished to an unsettling sheen. But at the chamber's center, something stood apart—a pristine, elevated platform made of an ethereal white material, smooth and flawless as bone but faintly radiant under the flickering lantern light.

Before the platform stood a podium crafted from the same pale substance. Its surface bore only a single, deliberate indentation carved into its top, as if it were meant to cradle something irreplaceable.

The heavy stone door clicked shut behind them with a sound that felt far too deliberate, far too final. Grey flinched, his silver eyes flicking back toward the now-sealed entrance. Keen instinctively rested a hand on the hilt of his blade, his body taut like a bowstring.

Elder, however, moved with quiet determination. His cane tapped against the stone floor as he approached the podium, the faint light of the lanterns reflecting off his pale, weathered skin.

Without a word, Elder reached up to his neck. His trembling fingers found the necklace—the crystal he had worn for as long as Keen or Grey could remember.

And then, slowly, he removed it.

The faint glow of the crystal dimmed as it left his skin, and the transformation was immediate. Elder's frail frame seemed to collapse inward, his shoulders curving forward under an unseen weight. His cane trembled beneath his grip, and his knees buckled slightly.

"Elder!" Keen surged forward, his voice cracking with alarm as he caught the old man by the shoulders. The wiry frame beneath his hands felt impossibly fragile, like holding a bird made of glass.

"I... I haven't taken this off in so many years," Elder rasped, his breath uneven, his head hanging low. "I didn't think... I didn't think I had so little time left."

"What do you mean?" Keen's voice was tight, his grip firm as if he could keep Elder from slipping away entirely.

"Nothing you can change, Keen." Elder's voice carried a quiet finality, his lips twitching faintly in something that might have been a smile—or a grimace. Slowly, with trembling hands, he placed the necklace into the indentation atop the podium.

The crystal clicked into place.

And then the world exploded with light.

Grey staggered back, throwing up his arms to shield his face as the room was flooded with a brilliance so intense it felt alive. Threads of golden-white light spidered across the walls, curling into intricate patterns before converging on the necklace, drawn toward its crystalline core like moths to a flame.