Soul Forging System

What the hell is this place? Stephan thought as his gaze lingered on the woman upon the throne. Her presence was wrong, wrong in the kind of way that made the air too heavy to breathe. She was draped in white that looked older than the mountain itself, her body bound in chains that pulsed faintly with runes of restraint. Who is she?

It looked less like a throne room and more like a tomb. A prison even

His mind flicked back to the mountain outside. The skeletal armies, the cavalry commander infused with lightning. Were they protecting her? Or keeping her locked inside?

The silence fractured.

The woman stirred. Slowly, languidly, as though waking from centuries of sleep. Her lips curved, not with warmth but into something sharp, a smile too hungry. When her voice came, it was low, melodic, and yet each syllable rolled through the chamber like a weight pressing down on his chest.

"You've climbed far, mortal…" she murmured. Her head tilted slightly, horns glinting in the torchlight. "Farther than you should have."

The chains stirred with her, groaning and grinding as though they remembered the struggle of holding her down. The sound reverberated through the stone, echoing like the growl of some buried beast.

Her long nails tapped against the armrest in a slow rhythm.

Stephan didn't flinch. He didn't blink. "What are you?" he asked, voice low, every sense sharpened to a blade's edge.

Her smile widened into something wicked, something that spoke of centuries of cruelty. "What am I?" She let the words linger, savoring them. Then, with a soft laugh: "Once, long ago, I was as you are...a fragile human. But I tired of humanity. It bored me. So…" She leaned forward, the torchlight catching the gleam of her fangs. "…I discarded it. I transcended. Became something higher."

Stephan's skin prickled. His instincts screamed.

She wasn't a god, he could tell that much. Her essence was unmistakable, the taint of corruption thicker than anything he had ever encountered. Yet she wasn't like the feral souls that prowled the Maw. She wasn't hunger given form. She was will. She was memory. She was dangerous.

Of all the souls Stephan had faced, none had spoken with such clarity, such venom, such self-awareness.

This one… this one is awake.

The faint purple firelight flickered over the woman's pale skin, the horns jutting from her head, and the chains that seemed less like restraints and more like veins binding her to the mountain itself.

Her words still echoed in his skull. I transcended into something higher.

"Higher?" Stephan said, his tone edged with mockery though his pulse quickened. "All I see is a chained soul trying to look like a queen."

Her laugh was soft, but it struck him like cold iron. It was the kind of laugh that belonged to someone who had watched centuries crumble to dust.

"You mistake my chains, mortal," she whispered. She leaned forward now, her hair spilling like a curtain, revealing the pale curve of her lips but not her eyes. "These are not bindings. These are anchors. The gods thought me too dangerous to wander free… so they bound me to the marrow of this mountain. But a prison?" Her smile widened, slow and cruel. "No. This throne is mine."

The air quivered. Stephan's instincts screamed. She wasn't lying, at least not fully.

"And the army outside?" Stephan asked, his grin thinning. "The skeletons, the commander, the cavalry?"

She tilted her head, amused. "They are the remains of those who challenged me… and the guards the gods left behind to keep me from stretching my claws too far. In time, they all bent. They all became mine."

Stephan's stomach twisted slightly. This wasn't like the Feral Wraiths or any corrupted soul he had harvested before. She wasn't just conscious, she remembered, she schemed.

Her chains groaned again as she shifted, the bronze shackles glowing faintly as if responding to her will. Stephan instinctively stepped back.

"I sense death on you," she purred, her voice dropping to something velvety, invasive. "The stench of battle, of reaping. Tell me, little reaper...do you serve a god, or do you plan to devour them?"

Stephan's grin sharpened. He wasn't about to bow. "Depends who's asking."

That earned him another laugh, darker this time. "Oh, I like you…" she whispered. "So reckless. So full of hunger. Perhaps that's why the Maw allowed you to climb here. Perhaps… you're the one meant to unbind me."

The chains rattled violently now, sparks flying where metal met stone. Stephan's eyes darted, he couldn't tell if she was testing him or if the mountain itself was about to collapse under her will.

Stephan's memory flicked back to the murals, those carved scenes of men and kings, of a shadow towering over cities until the people knelt. The images had meant something, now they snapped into place with a cold clarity.

"You said the gods bound you," he said, voice steady but low. "On my way down I passed drawings, stories. They showed a giant crushing humanity. Are you that giant?"

The woman's smile widened, slow and amused, as if she were humoring a child who had finally asked the right question. The chains at her wrists rasped like old gears. "A giant?" she repeated, the word sliding from her lips with mockery. "No. I was trying to give them strength."

Her fingers toyed with a loose link at her ankle, idly. "Humans...oh, how eager you were for power. I only sought to teach you how to seize it. To bind the old orders: elves, orcs, gnomes, teach you to rule rather than beg." Her voice warmed with a dangerous nostalgia. "Forbidden magic? Yes. A witch's tools, if you like. I would have forged humanity into kings."

Stephan felt the puzzle pieces click together with a hard, metallic sound. Fizzwigg's muttered histories, rumors of human hubris, the ruined bones of Kareth'Zul, all of it braided into one ugly truth.

"So you're saying you started it. You made them into this… that you toppled everything?" His tone was more statement than question now.

Her laugh was a thin thing that echoed against the vaulted hall. "I destroyed them," she said simply. No regret. No flourish. Just the plain, terrible fact. "Until there was none left who could stand against me. They called me witch, traitor, demon. They prayed to the gods to bind me. So they bound me. They turned my mercy into a prison."

She tipped her head, eyes still veiled, but the intent in her voice was as sharp as a blade. "Do you blame me, reaper? I gave them strength and ambition, then they wasted it, as mortals always do. I merely accelerated a truth they denied: power will always demand its due."

Stephan stood very still. The throne room hummed around them, stone, runes, the distant hush of those skeletal sentinels. What had begun as a curiosity now sat before him like a verdict: this woman had been the spark that burned a civilization away. And whatever she had become since, she did not feel like a victim.

"Seeing a mortal make it this far, I assume you tore through the army guarding the mountain. Impressive… for a human," she said, watching him with slow, amused interest. "Tell me... do you owe any god your power? Do you serve one who lights your blade?"

"Something like that," Stephan answered coolly, eyes never leaving her. "You look like a soul, and you claim you became more than human. What's your angle?"

She let out a soft, almost musical laugh. "This," she said, tapping the air above her chest, "is what remains of me. When the gods bound me, they wrenched my spirit from my flesh and hid my body elsewhere. The chains keep me tethered to this throne; the mountain keeps me patient."

Her hands flexed against the iron. The bronze links hummed in the gloom. "If the shackles fall, if my spirit can return to that hidden shell..." Her smile sharpened. "...I will step into it and be whole. With my body and my will reunited, I will not be contained."

She leaned forward, the veiled light catching the curve of her lips. "So, tell me, little reaper. Have you come to free me? Break these bonds, and I will make good on every promise I once offered. Power, dominion...things I taught humanity before they betrayed themselves. You want strength. I can give you strength."

Stephan's grin spread slow and dangerous. "That's a tempting offer." He stepped closer until the cold of the throne room bit at his face. "Trust me... I intend to set you free." His voice was flat, but the promise carried teeth.

Her smile widened into something almost predatory. "Is that so?" she purred. "Then prove it."

Like a response to a summons, the great statues flanking the throne shifted. Stone creaked. Runes along their armor brightened. The swords embedded in the floor lifted as if pulled by some enormous hand.

The two guardians came alive.

They moved with terrible deliberation, not quick, but unstoppable. Each footfall cracked the flagstone. Dust rained from the vaulted roof. The chains around the throne thrummed as binding wards flared and tried to bite at Stephan's feet.

"Guards," the woman said softly, amusement in her voice. "They keep my seat from growing cold."

Stephan's grin didn't fade. He tightened his grip on the Ossuary Sword, every muscle coiling. The statues swung their greatswords in a patient, bone-crushing arc. The fight had just begun.