Reincarnated as an Elf Prince

The howl faded. Not echoed. Just… stopped. Like something let go of the sound mid-breath.

Lindarion turned away from the cracked wall and moved toward a second stairwell hidden behind one of the headless statues. It spiraled deeper, not the same path they'd taken earlier, but similar in design. This one had carvings along the handrail, smoother, more careful. Newer.

Ashwing clung to his shoulder, silent.

The deeper they went, the less the air moved. Every breath felt thin. Not suffocating, just stale, like it had been waiting too long to be stirred.

Fifty steps.

Then sixty.

No light. No wind.

But he kept going.

He didn't like leaving questions behind.

The stairs ended in a chamber smaller than the last. Maybe the size of a banquet hall. The stone here wasn't rough, it was black and glassy, volcanic almost, but shaped. Polished to a sheen that caught even the faintest glow from his divine aura and threw it back like water.

At the far end of the room, a large rectangular slab stood upright. Not a door. Not a wall. Something in between. A mural, maybe, except it didn't show a scene.

It showed a map.

Not of their continent. Not of the human kingdoms. Not of any part of the world he recognized.

And right in the center, a crater-shaped symbol surrounded by jagged ringlets.

His system buzzed faintly.

[Translation approximation in progress…]

[Segment ID: 998-DR: "The Wound Below"]

[Category: Seal Site]

[Map Node Count: 17/Unknown]

[Note: Several locations inaccessible due to data suppression.]

Ashwing leaned closer. "What is that?"

"I think…" Lindarion tilted his head. "It's not a map of the surface."

"You mean underground?"

"No." His brow furrowed. "I think it's… layers."

Ashwing blinked.

"Like… planes?"

Lindarion didn't answer right away. He stepped up to the slab and traced one of the outer nodes. The carving rippled at his touch, only for a heartbeat, but it wasn't a trick of the light.

His fingers came away warm.

And there was blood on them.

Fresh.

He glanced down at his fingertips. No cut.

"Ashwing," he said slowly. "Something touched this recently."

The dragon stiffened. "We're not alone?"

"No." He turned his head, senses stretching.

Nothing.

No footsteps. No voices. No heartbeats. Not even mana flow.

"Whatever it was… it's gone now."

'Or it's hiding deeper.'

He checked the room for other exits. Found none.

But there was a symbol carved at the base of the slab, one he hadn't seen before, shaped like an eye with wings sprouting out either side. He stared at it, unsure why it felt familiar.

The system didn't offer a translation.

'Not helpful.'

He looked back up at the map.

The crater in the center pulsed faintly now that he was close. Just once.

He frowned.

His own divine affinity hummed, low and steady, like a heartbeat matching another.

And the system whispered something for the first time in hours:

[Resonance detected.]

[You are being watched.]

He stepped back immediately.

"Time to go," he muttered.

Ashwing didn't argue.

They turned and climbed the stairs again, one step at a time, silence thickening like fog behind them.

At the top, the temple felt colder than before.

No wind.

No echoes.

Just stillness.

Ashwing dropped to the floor and shifted back into his small lizard form, crawling up into Lindarion's coat pocket again.

"Next time we pick a hideout," the dragon muttered, "let's not pick the one with a sealed nightmare underneath it."

"Agreed."

They walked out into the starlit ruins just beyond the broken temple entrance.

He didn't stop until they reached the far edge of the ruined plaza, where the stone ended and dry grass began again.

He looked back once.

The temple stood as it had before.

Unmoving.

Silent.

But something down there… knew his name now.

And he could feel it listening still.

—

The grass underfoot was dry, brittle. It crunched faintly with each step. Lindarion stood still now, gaze pinned to the treeline just beyond the edge of the broken temple, ten paces out, maybe less.

Ashwing had gone still again inside his coat. Not asleep. Listening.

A shift in the air.

Something had changed.

Then, footsteps.

Deliberate.

Unhurried.

Lindarion turned.

A figure stepped into view from the shadows of the temple entrance. He hadn't seen him inside. Hadn't heard the stair groan or a breath stirred.

But there he was now, standing beneath the arch, where the moonlight split across the broken columns.

The figure wore robes, dark red, draped in layers, the fabric fraying near the cuffs but otherwise fine, too fine for a commoner. Silver threads traced symbols Lindarion didn't know.

The man's face was thin. Eyes shadowed. His skin was ash-grey, not unlike the others he'd seen in the city, but older. The lines etched across his cheeks and brow weren't from age. They were carved. Ritualistically. Sharp and geometric.

But his voice?

His voice was calm. Almost soft.

"You don't belong here."

Lindarion didn't move. "Neither do you."

The man smiled, not kindly. Not cruelly. Just the slow curl of someone who wasn't in a hurry to reach the end of a conversation.

"I serve here," the figure said, walking forward across the stone. "You trespass."

"I didn't see your name on the wall."

The priest chuckled faintly. "Nor you mine, elf. Yet the blood recognizes you. It stirred."

Lindarion's eyes narrowed.

The priest kept walking. Stopped maybe five steps away.

No visible weapon.

No threat in posture.

But his mana pulsed deep. Steady. Controlled. Old.

"You're a long way from your war, Sunblade."

Lindarion's stomach twisted. He didn't show it. "You know my name?"

The man tilted his head. "Not until the seal pulsed. Names echo in such places. You spoke. It listened. It answered me."

Ashwing stirred in his coat, voice low in Lindarion's mind. "Kill him now if you're going to. He's not normal."

'Not yet.'

The priest folded his hands inside his sleeves.

"I would ask why you've come. But I already know the answer. You're looking for what's been taken."

"And what's that?" Lindarion asked coldly.

The man's smile flickered. "Home."

Silence.

For a long moment, neither of them moved.

Then Lindarion stepped forward, just one pace.

The priest didn't flinch.

"You serve whoever opened that seal," Lindarion said. "The one who attacked Caldris. Who took our cities. Our people."

"'Took' is the wrong word," the man said. "They were claimed."