Echoed Stillness – Coren & Sylva
The deeper they moved, the quieter it got. Not silence. Something worse.
A pressure that swallowed movement. That listened back.
Sylva adjusted her grip on the spear for the fourth time in ten minutes.
"Still no sign of beast movement," she muttered. "Spiral always sends pressure before contact. This… isn't that."
Coren walked slightly ahead, fingers brushing stone walls now marked with fading glow-threads.
"They're holding it back."
She glanced sideways. "Why?"
"So we see the trail without the fight. So we follow it deeper."
Sylva squinted toward the bend ahead.
"You think it's leading us?"
Coren paused at a glyph scar that wasn't made by Spiral or seal. It was cut by steel.
"No," he said. "I think someone wants us to believe we chose this path."
That's when they noticed the firelight ahead.
Three flickers. Still. Waiting.
Sylva's voice dropped. "…Company."
"Didn't expect you come this far in."
Three figures emerged. One in tattered military fatigues, one with no insignia, and one veiled. Holding a silent relay crystal that pulsed once, despite the chamber's null field.
Sylva stepped forward, spear raised.
"Identify."
The veiled one tilted their head. "We're not Spiral, if that's your fear."
Coren's voice was flat. "That's not my fear."
He glanced at the relay crystal again. "They're not immune to null zones. That pulse should've failed."
The one in fatigues grinned. "We're just observers. Your sweep was drawing attention."
Sylva: "From what?"
The veiled one's relay crystal pulsed again. "From someone who remembers you."
The glyph patterns on the walls began to hum. Quietly. Slowly. In response.
Coren narrowed his eyes. "We've been leading something to these hollows."
Sylva's grip tightened.
The veiled one smiled.
"Not something. Someone."
Then without any waning nor sign the one with the rune blade struck.
Coren moved to meet him. Palm-to-wrist. Redirecting the blade. Countering with a shockwave punch that slammed the attacker into the wall.
Sylva spun into the second one. Her spear catching sparks as it scraped against a parry too fast for reflex.
The veiled one didn't move. But the glyphs on the wall began to glow. Faintly resonating.
Sylva growled, "They're tuning the hollows, like a damn resonator"
Coren struck a seal rune into the floor. "Break it."
The ground split under them with a thunderclap. One of the attackers flickered, vanishing, then reappearing behind Sylva with a glyph ring snapping into place at her feet.
She leapt sideways mid-spin, barely avoiding a blast of redirected Ki.
"They're not fighting to win," Coren shouted. "They're fighting to stall."
The veiled one finally raised their hand.
"Good. Now we wait."
Then everything went dark.
Blade Alone (Kaelen)
The beasts didn't slow.
Kaelen moved like the storm had carved him. Every step deliberate. Every strike final.
But they just kept coming.
Each wave more erratic. Not faster. Not smarter. Just more willing to die. As if the dying was part of the lesson.
He cut through a pair. Claws clashing with steel. Breath ragged. Heat swelling through his arms. His ribs ached. Old wounds, new bruises. But he let the pain fuel the next swing.
A third charged from behind. He ducked low, pivoted, drove his blade into its chest.
It gurgled, screaming without voice.
He let it fall. For a second. Silence.
Then came the whisper.
Not in the wind. Not in the glyphs. Inside.
"You still fight like them, Kaelen. But you're not one of them anymore, are you?"
He froze.
The voice wasn't Spiral. It was human. Sharp. Familiar. And old.
He didn't turn. Just let the blood drip from his blade.
"I thought you were dead."
"We all were. But you, you're just late to accept it."
From the shadow between two stone outcrops, a figure stepped forward. Hooded. Clean. No Spiral marks. No Ki field.
But the way the beasts had stopped told him all he needed.
Kaelen narrowed his eyes.
"You guiding them?"
The figure tilted their head. "Not guiding. Releasing. The Spiral doesn't need a leash. It just needs... a story."
"And you've got so many," the figure mused. "The Butcher of Kalros. The Academy's Ghost. Which one do you want to be true?"
Kaelen spat into the dirt. "You came to offer me what, your faith? Your pity?"
"An alliance. You don't belong with them. Not after what they made you do. You fought for a world that discarded you."
Kaelen's breath caught, but only for a blink. Then the fury passed.
"You're ten years too late."
The figure laughed. "No. You are. You're one bloodbath away from realizing I'm right."
They stepped back.
"I'll let you think about it."
Then the beasts began to move again.
They came like floodwater. No pattern, no pause. Just volume and need.
Kaelen moved.
His blades were breath and bone. The air hissed as metal tore through Spiral-warped flesh. Screams followed. Not of pain, but something emptier. Hollow intention.
One down. Two more behind it.
He dropped low, pivoted, cut the legs out from the left, then twisted on his heel to drive his sword up beneath the second's jaw. Black blood arced across his forearm.
Another leapt from above.
Kaelen shifted back, slammed his boot upward into its ribs mid-air. Heard the bones crack. Landed on one knee, used the motion to bury a blade into a crawler's back.
"Still slow," he muttered.
They weren't faster.
They were just more.
And more.
And more.
He moved back to the narrow pass between two rocks. Forced them into a kill funnel.
He'd done this before. In wars no one remembered. Against enemies who bled cleaner.
A twisted stag creature slammed into the side wall, stumbling toward him. Glyphs crawled over its antlers.
Kaelen met it mid-charge. Let it scrape his shoulder before he split its head down the middle.
Blood in his mouth now.
His? Maybe.
Didn't matter.
He felt the ache build in his leg. A burn from the earlier leap. That wasn't part of the act.
Good.
Let it ground him.
He pulled one dagger, threw it without looking.
It struck true. Deep into the throat of a beast with too many eyes.
He panted. Hands shaking.
Let them see it. Let them believe the weight was winning.
He stumbled back. Purposefully too slow. Took a hit across the ribs. Sharp, shallow. Perfect.
He dropped one blade. Let his shoulders sag, not enough to seem broken. Just enough to seem close. He Fell to one knee.
The sound of shuffling paws and scraping claws faded.
Just one voice again, familiar and detached.
"You still remember how to kneel, I see."
Kaelen didn't look.
Didn't need to.
He felt the attention in the air. The judgment. The offer.
He kept his head down for just one more beat.
Then lifted it. Blood on his lip, eyes tired, expression empty.
And smiled.
"Fine. Tell me your story."
He let the other blade drop beside him.