Night's quiet settled over Elderglen as the guardians returned to the Grand Hall, each haunted by the whisper that had slipped through the sealed chasm. Sleep eluded them, and by moonrise they gathered once more at the vineyard's edge, lanterns in hand and the Heartstone's glow at their center.
Riven spoke first, voice low and urgent. "The chasm's seal held—for now—but that final whisper named a 'true test' yet to come. In the old chronicles, such voices herald the Stirring of the Deep: an ancient power older even than Malrik's corruption."
Lior's flame shard pulsed softly. "Then we must follow its call before it grows." He shivered despite the ember's warmth. "The vine roots spoke of an underground vault beneath the vineyards. There—perhaps—we'll find answers."
Sylas wrapped his cloak close. "The wind's echo hinted at four watchposts. If this vault exists, its entrances ought to lie at each cardinal point."
Corwin traced the outline of the valley with his finger. "To the north, the Weeping Terrace; east, the Silver Brook; south, the Whispering Grove; west, the ancient Wall of Roots. We split across the four points and reconvene at dawn."
Bram nodded, staff tapping softly in agreement. "Let each of us guard the others' path. The earth remembers every step."
They fell silent, each murmuring the Vanguard's vow over the Heartstone. At once, its light flared, casting four beams toward the horizon—one pointing down each road.
Lior strode beneath the starlit vines. There, where sorrowful drops of sap dripped like tears, he found a vine-choked alcove carved into living rock. Flames sprung from his shard, illuminating a spiral staircase descending into black earth. With every step, molten veins pulsed in the walls, as if the mountain's own heartbeat guided him deeper.
Sylas crept through reeds shimmering in moonlight. His wind-parting whispered ripples pushed aside brush to reveal a stone arch etched with glyphs of air and breath. He tapped his feather on the rune— and the arch hummed open like a sigh, admitting him into a tunnel of echoing gusts.
Corwin waded into the grove's mist, each tree's silver leaves stirring at his approach. Following the conch's faint murmur, he found a hidden pool whose waters glowed with moonlit phosphorescence. Kneeling, he scooped water into the basin of a half-buried relief: an engraving of waves parting rock. The pool rose, uncovering a submerged gateway to the depths below.
Bram faced the gnarled barrier of living oak and stone. He pressed his staff against the roots' carvings, singing an earth-tune taught by Tarin. The roots parted like curtains, revealing a heavy oak door set into the hillside—its iron latch etched with rune-stones of endurance.
At the same moment, four staircases spanned underground passages and met beneath a central chamber. Their steps rang like distant thunder as Lior, Sylas, Corwin, and Bram each emerged from their respective staircase, drawn by the Heartstone's steady glow.
In the vaulted hall they found Riven waiting beside a circular dais. Around them spiraled four carved alcoves, each bearing the symbol of one element. At the center lay a sunken pit, its bottom lost in shadow, and across it a massive stone door inlaid with a singular rune—neither fire, wind, tide, nor stone, but a blank circle that seemed to absorb light.
Riven raised the Heartstone. "This door guards the Wellspring of Echoes: the primal source from which Malrik's darkness first seeped. Beyond it lies the true test—a trial of all four elements, fused in one. Only by channeling your unity through this single gate can you confront the Deep's awakening."
Lior exchanged a glance with his friends. Their faces reflected resolve tempered by awe.
Sylas stepped forward, wind stirring around him. "Speak the vow," he said, "and open the way."
They clasped hands, each bringing their element's token to the blank rune: flame, feather, conch, and staff. Together, they intoned:
"By flame and wind and tide and stone,
One heart remains—unbound, unbroken."
At their final word, the Heartstone's light arced upward in a ring of pure white fire. The blank rune flared, then dissolved into motes of luminescence. The great door rumbled open, revealing a staircase spiraling into absolute darkness below.
A cold breath drifted upward, carrying distant whispers that now formed a single word:
"Come…"
Riven lifted his lantern. "This is where we prove our unity—or lose it forever."
Hand in hand, the Elemental Vanguards descended into the unknown, their hearts bound by vow and the promise of the kingdom they had yet to save.