In the deepest place of a structure that no longer appeared on any map, where ancient corridors had been swallowed by dampness and silence had remained untouched for centuries, there was a single coffin.
The black stone covering it was buried beneath a thick layer of dust, thin roots had grown between its sides, and part of the inscriptions carved into the lid had nearly disappeared with time.
Even so, on that night, something that should have remained asleep for another ten years began to awaken.
First came one pulse.
Then another.
And another.
The runes scattered across the coffin lit up in a deep wine-red color.
They did not glow like ordinary magic.
They looked like living blood flowing through grooves carved into the stone, reigniting symbol after symbol after two thousand years.
The pressure inside the chamber slowly increased, lifting dust from the floor and causing small cracks to spread through the walls.
Then one of the runes exploded.
