---
The mirrors lining the tunnel shook, their silvered surfaces warping like disturbed water.
Silas stood slowly, the Whispershard still in his palm. The voice had come from nowhere and everywhere—its echo bouncing through his bones.
Nyra was already pulling him back. "We have to go. That thing... it's not a Reaper. It's worse."
From the central mirror, a silhouette emerged.
But it didn't step out. It peeled through the surface like skin, tall and gaunt, wearing a suit made of stitched shadows. Its face was entirely blank—no eyes, no mouth. Just a single symbol burned into its forehead:
Abyss.
The figure moved with elegance, but the moment it twitched, the runes around the safehouse dimmed.
"Run," Nyra hissed.
They turned and bolted down the twisting tunnels, footsteps echoing too slow, like the air itself was dragging behind.
The Abyss-born followed without moving its legs, gliding through the mirror-world like it owned it.
Silas shouted, "How do we fight it?!"
"You don't fight an Abyss-born! You survive it!"
A wall ahead split open, revealing another path—a broken train platform lit by pale green crystals. They jumped down, landing on cold steel rails.
Silas turned. The tunnel behind them was folding, mirrors shattering like glass screams.
"Nyra—where are we?!"
She pointed up. "One of the old Subveil stations. Before the Cataclysm, they used this to move between sanctuaries. We're close to one."
"Then let's go—"
"No." She faced him, fierce. "If we lead that thing there, everyone dies. You go. I'll hold it off."
Silas stepped forward. "No. You saved me twice now. I'm not running again."
"You don't even know how to use your Ash!"
"Then teach me. Now."
Nyra clenched her teeth. Then nodded, fast and sharp.
"Close your eyes. Feel the burn in your veins. Focus on what you want to protect. Not on power. Not on control. Just protect."
Silas did.
And in the darkness behind his eyelids, he saw something strange:
A tree.
Twisted. Black. With glowing blue veins, just like his arms.
It pulsed once—then cracked open.
When his eyes opened, his body was glowing faintly.
Blue markings coiled up his arms and neck like tattoos written by memory.
He could feel the world.
He turned toward the Abyss-born, now emerging from a broken mirror, and extended his hand.
The air shimmered.
A blade appeared in his grip—silver, jagged, with pieces missing like it had been shattered and rebuilt.
The Abyss-born hesitated.
It recognized the weapon.
Nyra's eyes widened. "That's not just Ash... That's a Relic."
"What's that mean?" Silas asked.
"It means," she whispered, "you're not the only one who's been reborn."
The Abyss-born lunged, and Silas struck.
Steel met shadow.
And the world tore.
---
Flashback – Unknown Time
A battlefield of ash. Thousands lay dead.
A man, cloaked in black, held a similar sword—only whole—against a being of pure light and void.
"You'll fall again, Abyss," the man had said. "Even if you erase me. I always come back."
---
Present
The sword in Silas's hand sparked.
The Abyss-born staggered back.
Nyra moved beside him. "We need to seal it while it's stunned. It won't stay down long."
"How?"
"Together."
They raised the Whispershard between them. Symbols danced along its surface, then spilled into the air, forming a circle of runes around the shadow.
The Abyss-born screamed—not with sound, but with thought. Silas's head split with pain, memories that weren't his flooding in—dying cities, shattered realms, lost names.
He held on. Grit his teeth. Pushed harder.
The runes collapsed inward.
And the shadow was gone.
Not defeated.
Just caged.
---
They both fell to their knees.
Silas groaned. "What... what was that thing?"
Nyra shook her head. "Abyss-born are memory-eaters. They hunt Echo-Bearers... people like you."
"And that sword?"
"I don't know how, but it's a piece of something ancient. Something lost when the Veil first tore open."
Silas looked at the sword. It had begun to fade.
Back into his skin.
"Looks like it's mine," he muttered.
"Lucky us," Nyra said. "We just declared war on the Abyss."
---
Elsewhere – The Crimson Hollow
A woman in armor carved from bones sipped tea in a garden of bloodlotus.
A shadow approached. "The Abyss-Born failed."
She didn't flinch.
"Then the boy lives."
"Yes."
Her crimson eyes sparkled. "Then the game begins. Let him rise. It'll make the fall sweeter."
---
End of Chapter 3