The heat in the cavern remained oppressive, the weight of their newfound knowledge settling over them like an unshakable force.
Argolaith and Kaelred stood silent, digesting the truth they had just learned—the city of Gren, frozen in ti by mistake, never ant to be preserved, never ant to exist in this broken state.
The Grendyle before them watched with those wide, hopeful eyes, gripping the notebook with trembling hands, as if relieved to finally share its people's tragedy.
Then—
A voice broke the silence, cold and smooth, carrying a tone of calculated amusent.
"Fascinating," Malakar murmured, stepping from the shadows.
Kaelred cursed under his breath, whipping around as Argolaith instinctively moved his hand to his sword hilt.
But Malakar was not threatening them.
His violet eyes glead with curiosity, his skeletal fingers folding neatly together as he studied the Grendyle.
"I have a question," the Lich said, tilting his head. "Is it possible for you to leave?"
The Grendyle froze, its hands tightening on the notebook.
It hesitated—then slowly began to write.
"No. The formation binds us. We cannot step beyond it."
Kaelred exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "So they really are stuck here forever."
Argolaith, however, was still watching Malakar.
The Lich's smirk didn't fade as he tapped a bony finger against his temple, considering sothing.
"If that is the case," Malakar said, "then how did the other one reach the surface?"
The Grendyle stiffened.
Kaelred frowned. "Wait… that's a good point. **The one that led us down here—**how did it get past the formation?"
The Grendyle hesitated again.
Then, with a deliberate motion, it wrote:
"Only outsiders may co and go."
A tense silence followed.
Argolaith's mind raced. "Then… the one that led us here…"
He t the Grendyle's gaze, his voice low but steady.
"Is that one an outsider?"
The Grendyle gripped the notebook tighter but didn't imdiately respond.
Instead, it looked at them carefully, as if weighing its answer.
Then, with slow and precise strokes, it wrote:
"Yes."
Argolaith exchanged glances with Kaelred, both of them processing what this ant.
Kaelred crossed his arms. "Okay, so… that ans at least one of them isn't bound by the formation."
Argolaith nodded. "But that also ans it chose to stay here—at least long enough to find us and lead us underground."
Kaelred's brow furrowed. "So why would an outsider stay in a city where no one can even talk to them?"
Argolaith looked at the Grendyle. "Do you know where the one that brought us here is?"
The Grendyle shook its head, then wrote:
"It cos and goes."
Kaelred clicked his tongue. "Great. So it's running around wherever it wants, and we have no idea what its intentions are."
Malakar chuckled. "Does it matter?"
Kaelred shot him a glare. "Yes, it matters!"
Malakar smirked. "And what exactly do you plan to do? Question a creature that may or may not return?"
Kaelred scowled but didn't have an imdiate answer.
Argolaith turned back to the Grendyle. "Is there anything else you can tell us about it?"
The Grendyle hesitated.
Then, finally, it wrote:
"It is different from us. It does not belong anywhere."
Kaelred's voice dropped. "What the hell does that an?"
Argolaith narrowed his eyes, deep in thought.
This outsider Grendyle—it had led them here. But for what reason?
It was not bound to the city, not trapped like the others.
Yet it chose to stay.
And sothing about that felt deliberate.
Malakar folded his arms, studying the Grendyle before them.
"So," he said, his voice silky smooth, "if only outsiders may leave… then what happens when we do?"
The Grendyle froze again, its wide eyes shifting to Malakar.
It hesitated.
Then, it wrote one final thing.
"We watch."
The air in the underground city of Gren had always been thick with heat, but now, as the Grendyle hesitated before writing its next words, the temperature felt different.
Sothing shifted.
Not in the physical sense, but in a way that neither Argolaith nor Kaelred could properly define.
Malakar, however, noticed it imdiately.
His violet eyes flickered, and his smirk faded slightly, as if he had just sensed sothing far older than himself.
The Grendyle's hand trembled as it pressed the charcoal against the notebook, the strokes slower, more deliberate than before.
Then, finally, it wrote:
"The one who cos and goes… is the oldest among us."
Kaelred stiffened. "Oldest?"
The Grendyle nodded before continuing.
"Before the formation, it was already ancient. It knew our ways before we were bound. It walks the world still, while we cannot."
Argolaith narrowed his eyes. "Then it must know what really happened when the formation was activated."
Kaelred exhaled. "Which ans it might be the only one who can give us actual answers instead of broken history."
The Grendyle hesitated again, its gaze flickering toward Malakar for the first ti.
Malakar noticed but said nothing, rely tilting his head, observing with quiet expectation.
Then, the Grendyle wrote one final thing:
"Its na is Karthos."
The instant the charcoal etched the final letter into the notebook—
Sothing shifted.
A force pressed against reality, an invisible ripple coursing through the air.
It wasn't an explosion, nor was it a sound.
It was simply a presence.
A change that both existed and didn't exist.
Kaelred felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. "What the hell was that?"
Argolaith stood tense, his instincts screaming at him that sothing was watching them now.
Malakar, however, simply exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable.
"…Ah," he murmured. "It would seem we have company."
The Grendyle's eyes widened, its entire posture going rigid.
Then, with one final movent, it wrote:
"Karthos has returned."
A deep, resounding stillness followed.
Then—
From the darkness of the ruined streets, footsteps echoed.
Not heavy, not rushed.
But deliberate, asured and ancient.
A shadow stretched across the stone, its form humanoid, yet wrong—sothing that did not belong yet existed all the sa.
Then, the figure stepped into the light.
The being that erged from the depths of Gren was taller than the other Grendyles, its limbs slightly longer, its body more refined, less hunched.
Its eyes—
They were not bulging like the others.
They were deep-set, glowing with a soft, almost lancholic light.
And unlike the other Grendyles, this one's tan fur shimred slightly, as though it had once been sothing more than it was now.
The creature that had been nad Karthos stopped a few feet away from them, its gaze settling first on Argolaith and Kaelred.
Then—
It looked at Malakar.
And Malakar looked back.
For the first ti since eting him, Malakar did not speak first.
Instead, he simply watched.
Waited.
And Karthos, the outsider of Gren, the one who walked the world while its people remained trapped, studied them in return.
Malakar's violet eyes remained locked on Karthos, but his thoughts had already spiraled backward in ti.
Far beyond the monts he had spent following Argolaith and Kaelred.
Far beyond the centuries of experintation in his lab.
Beyond the wars.
Beyond the rise and fall of empires lost to history.
There was a story.
A story so ancient that even he had begun to question if it had been real.
A story of a being that should not have existed.
A creature with long arms, tan fur that shimred like golden silk, and a strength that rivaled that of Demi-Gods.
A creature that walked between worlds—unshackled by ti, unbound by the laws that governed all others.
A Grendyle.
No.
Not just a Grendyle.
The first.
And now—
It stood before him.
Malakar's skeletal fingers twitched at his sides.
He did not move.
He did not speak.
For the first ti in centuries—fear crawled through his bones.
This is impossible.
The words ford in his mind, but he did not speak them aloud.
Instead, he rely stared, his normally sharp smirk gone, replaced by sothing that could almost be called dread.
Then—
Karthos turned his head.
And looked directly at him.
Malakar's breath stilled, the ancient pulse of his magic faltering for the briefest of monts.
Then, a voice echoed in his mind.
"Hello, Malakar."
Malakar stiffened.
The voice had not co from Karthos' mouth.
It had never spoken aloud.
And yet—
It spoke to him.
Directly.
Argolaith and Kaelred, standing just feet away, did not react.
They did not hear the voice.
They did not see the way Malakar's entire body had tensed.
They remained focused on Karthos, unaware of the exchange happening just beyond their perception.
Then—
Argolaith narrowed his eyes, tilting his head slightly.
"Wait…" He frowned. "Weren't you smaller on the surface?"
Kaelred nodded. "Yeah. And didn't you look just like the others?"
Karthos shifted his gaze toward Argolaith, his luminous eyes gleaming with amusent.
And then, just as he had done with Malakar
He spoke into Argolaith's mind.
"Did you forget that we can change our appearance at will?"
A pause.
Then, a final thought.
"Well… the others can't anymore."
Argolaith froze.
His instincts scread at him.
Sothing about the way Karthos spoke into his mind—sothing about those words—
It unsettled him.
The way he had said "the others can't anymore" carried a weight that felt unnatural.
Sothing had been taken from them.
And Karthos knew why.
Kaelred, however, had yet to realize the shift. "So… that ans you're still in control of your abilities, then?"
Karthos turned toward Kaelred, tilting his head ever so slightly.
And for the first ti—
He smiled.
Malakar had not spoken since the mont Karthos addressed him.
His mind was still processing.
Still trying to rationalize what stood before him.
But there was no denying it.
The story was real.
The legend was true.
And Karthos was no re Grendyle.
He was sothing far, far worse.
And yet, despite the cold grip of fear lingering in his soul—
Malakar could not deny his curiosity.
He had spent eons searching for knowledge.
And now, standing before him, was sothing that had existed before ti itself was shackled.
His fear remained.
But so did his hunger for answers.
Slowly, the Lich's lips curled into a smirk once more.
"Well then," Malakar finally spoke, his voice smooth as silk but devoid of its usual arrogance.
"If you can change your appearance at will…"
His violet eyes glead.
"Then show us what you truly look like."
And with that—
The air shifted once more.
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