When I arrived at the outer gate, the academy grounds were still asleep. A low mist clung to the stone paths, and the only sounds were the distant hum of barrier runes and the occasional birdcall from the treetops, more like a breathing thing in its quietest dreams.
Regalia was already there, leaning against the stone wall like a monument carved from shadow. Her cape drooped behind her, and her twin blades rested behind her back. She looked at me with observation.
"You're late," she said, though her tone didn't sound judgmental.
I tightened the straps of my pack. "It's still dark."
"It won't be for long." She turned and began walking. She pulled a necklace inside her cloak and threw it at me as she walked.
"Also, put this on."
I catch it and put it on. "A necklace? I assume this is not just some gift."
"It's not. But let's just say it is for now."
I lifted a brow, but I wasn't going to argue with her. I did as I was told and followed her.
We passed beneath the tall iron gate together; the academy's protective boundary hummed as we crossed. A soft flicker of light ran across their bodies as the ward recognized our departure. Once outside, the forest greeted us with open arms. That's when I realized something.
"Hey, Regalia," I said, turning to her.
Regalia looks over at me. "What is it?"
"Is it okay that you're taking me on this mission? I don't really care about the regulations, but I'm technically not old enough to take missions."
Regalia looked back in the direction we were walking, calm. "I've already gotten permission from the academy and the guild that requested me. You're fine."
Alright then, I guess that's the end of that.
The trees were tall and silent, with moss gathering at their roots like old memories. A stone trail cut through the underbrush, half-eroded and rarely used. It led east toward old trade routes, forgotten by most except couriers and mercenaries who preferred not to be seen. As we walked, the silence between us was thick but not uncomfortable. I didn't feel like talking, and so did she.
After nearly a full hour, Regalia finally broke it. "You're not here to impress me," she said.
I looked over at her, caught slightly off guard.
"You're here to survive."
I nodded slowly. "That's the plan."
Regalia's gaze remained forward. "This mission is minor, but it's real. Wild beasts. Bandit stragglers. Broken terrain. You'll see how your instincts respond without structure or rules."
I furrowed my brow. "And if I lose control?"
Regalia's hand casually drifted to the hilt of one of her swords. "Then I'll stop you."
I didn't respond at first, but I nodded.
"Fair enough."
We walked in silence again. The sun had begun to rise, its golden light filtering through the trees. The world smelled like dew, pine, and distance. I exhaled quietly despite everything—the uncertainty, the fear, the fire beneath my skin. At this moment, I truly felt awake. I believe that I'm taking steps closer to whatever I need to become.
By midmorning, Regalia and I arrived at a narrow clearing just before the mountainous bend of Lowridge, a seldom-used trade route that ran parallel to old-world supply lines. The air was thinner here, and the road was cracked from years of abandonment and weathering.
A small group of armed travelers was waiting near a makeshift camp—three figures in worn but well-kept gear. A pair of horses stood tethered nearby beside a half-covered wooden wagon. The wagon was modest in size but fortified, with reinforced iron beneath the canvas and intricate glyphs etched along the wheels.
Regalia slowed and signaled me to follow her lead as we approached. The man who greeted us had sharp eyes and a travel-weathered face. He wore light armor over a reinforced travel cloak, with a curved dagger sheathed at his side. A thick tail protrudes from below his cloak.
"Lionheart," he said with a respectful nod. "Didn't expect the academy or the guild to send you."
Regalia returned with a curt nod. "I was in the area. Consider it an extra quality control."
The man smirked. "You always were picky."
The man then turned to me. "And the little one?"
Just before I could say anything, Regalia answered for me. "Apprentice."
I straightened slightly but said nothing.
The man crossed his arms. "Really? I knew you trained people before, but taking one on to pass the torch? How mature of you."
Regalia shoots daggers at the man, and he staggers back.
"Whoa, easy now, your highness. It was a joke." He raises his hands, surrendering.
Regalia crossed her arms, clearly annoyed.
The man extended a gloved hand. "Name's Thorne Vasker, fox-therian, freelance guild runner for the Silver Vale Circle. These two—" he gestures to the others behind him, "—are Janil and Crest. We're headed west, just past the Ardent Gulch."
I nodded, but I couldn't help but eye the reinforced wagon. "What's in there?" I asked.
Thorne smirked. "That's the job."
"Cargo?" Regalia asked.
"Technically." He looked between us, then lowered his voice. "Sensitive supplies recovered from a derelict outpost. Sealed crates. Some have faint magical residue. Local beasts have been acting strange around it."
I furrowed my brow. "You think they're drawn to it?"
"We don't know. Which is why we're moving it under the radar." Thorne glanced at the surrounding trees. "No formal security detail. Just you, us, and the trail."
Regalia nodded once. "Any signs of interference yet?"
"Just movement in the woods. Nothing confirmed. But one of our runners vanished two nights ago."
I could feel a chill run down my spine. Oh yeah, nothing big, I suppose, just that a guy is missing from the team. No biggie. I returned from my thoughts when I heard a loud clap from Thorne.
"Anyway, the route's simple: two days through gulch country. No towns, no checkpoints. We're ghosts until we hit the outpost drop."
I finally spoke. "And what happens if something attacks?"
Regalia answered calmly. "Then we'll see if you're ready."
Thorne raised an eyebrow but didn't push it. We drove through introductions and began the mission. We're headed west to our drop-off location. Let's see what the world has in store for us.
We journeyed for a while with minimal speaking. Only when pointing out a specific direction or stopping for short breaks did we do any form of speaking. The wagon creaked softly as it rolled over worn stone and old roots, its glyph-etched wheels humming faintly every time the terrain dipped.
We moved in a loose diamond formation. Crest and Janil were up front, Thorne beside the reins, and Regalia trailed behind with me to her right. The deeper we moved into the forest, the quieter the world became. Birds grew rarer, and insects quieter. Even the wind moved strangely, as if hesitant to disturb the path.
I drifted closer to the front, my eyes shifting between the two other escorts. Janil marched just ahead of the wagon, posture alert, shoulders squared. He was tall and lean, with weathered tan skin and faint silver scars cutting diagonally across his exposed left forearm. His armor was practical, with tightly bound leather and reinforced elbow guards. It was worn from field use but maintained with obsessive care.
He carried a long, double-ended spear, its steel tips etched with faint runes I couldn't decipher. He was a quiet man, but he's sharp. Janil would be the stillness that only came from seeing too much and surviving it anyway. Despite his age—maybe late twenties—there was something old in Janil's eyes.
It was like... he'd made peace with danger. And wasn't afraid to meet it again.
Crest, on the other hand, was the opposite kind of quiet. She rode the edge of the clearing with dancer-like agility, stepping over roots without breaking rhythm. Her armor was sleeker, layered dark gray plates stitched over tight chainmail, all molded to move with her rather than protect outright.
Her short-cut hair was streaked with white near the temples—not from age, I guessed, but from exposure to elemental flux. She had thin fingers, fast hands, and carried twin curved daggers at her hips—both bladed with shimmering alloy that caught even the weakest sunlight.
Her eyes were ice blue and sharp. She calculated everything, watched everything. Even now, I noticed how she occasionally turned—not toward any sound but toward subtle shifts in the air. I'd seen students with heightened perception before, but Crest didn't just react; she read the terrain like a map etched into her bones.
Crest caught my gaze once. She didn't smile, just gave me a slight nod. It was respectful, yet distant. I nodded back. The wagon creaked on, and the forest continued to hold its breath. I felt something for the first time from these three pros in front of me. It wasn't nervousness nor fear. It felt like belonging, even though I didn't deserve it yet.
As I walked silently, my flames flickered gently at my fingertips whenever my nerves twitched. It wasn't that I was on edge, not exactly. It felt like I was more aware. Regalia had told me to trust my instincts, and so far, they were humming. Thorne finally broke the silence, tossing me a sideways glance.
"You're quiet for a fire user."
I shrugged. "Trying not to be the reason the woods catch fire."
Throne chuckled. "Smart."
Crest turned her head slightly, speaking over her shoulder. First time outside the academy?"
"In general? No. Mission-wise? Yes."
Crest forms a soft smile. "Feels different, right?"
I nodded. "Everything feels... heavier."
Janil grunted from up front. "It's the road. This place doesn't like to be remembered."
Thorne shot him a glare. "Don't start."
I raised a brow. "Start what?"
Janil hesitated, then relented. "Old rumor. Ardent Trail cuts across ancient Ley fractures—places where power used to surge freely. Some say the road itself remembers things. Things we tried to bury."
"Great," I muttered. "Why does every story out here sound like a haunted scroll waiting to happen?"
Regalia chimed, still calm as ever. "Because half of them are true."
That shut all of us up.
Later that afternoon, we passed through a shadowed thicket where the tree canopy grew so thick that daylight barely filtered through. The temperature dipped unnaturally. Of course, there was no sign of any life, not even a bug. My breath caught faintly in my throat. I wasn't the only one.
Janil paused and placed a hand on the wagon. "Stop."
Crest looked around sharply. "You hear that?"
"No," Janil said slowly. "That's the problem."
I glanced over to Regalia, but she was already scanning the treeline. Then, I felt it. There was a presence. Not a sound, not a movement, but something was watching. It was like it was leaning in from behind the trees, silent and coiled.
"Something's here," I whispered.
Thorne drew his blade quietly. Crest stepped forward. Her hand drifted toward the hilt of her daggers.
"Could be animals."
"No animal moves without making a sound," Regalia replied, her voice sharp.
Janil took a slow step back toward the wagon.
The forest felt like it always felt. Gasping for air. I squinted my eyes, looking towards the tree line. Just for a moment, I thought I saw it. A glint of something pale, not eyes nor any fur. It was like bone. Then, it vanished. It was gone without a trace.
"What did you see?" Regalia turned to me.
I don't know," I responded honestly. "But it didn't blink."
Regalia stared at me and nodded. "We keep moving. Eyes sharp, no fires unless I say." She turned to the others, and they agreed.
I clenched my jaw, and my flames dimmed. The road felt even heavier now, and somewhere in the distance, whatever was watching hadn't stopped. This sense of deja vu is killing me here. The thing watching has no meaning in stopping; for now, we'll let it watch.
It was now early afternoon. The trees thinned as the sun climbed, revealing a sloped clearing between two ridgelines. Overgrown but familiar, it was a known rest stop along the forgotten trade route—flat terrain, old stone markers, and a single broken shrine at the edge of a shallow spring.
As we emerged from the trail, Thorne raised a hand. "We stop here. Thirty minutes. Let's water up and, of course, no fire." We dispersed soon after, like a group that's practiced well on rhythm, to short breaks in uncertain lands. Janil took up watch by the western tree line, eyes fixed toward the canopy. Crest began circling the perimeter, blades still sheathed, but fingers twitched near their hilts.
Regalia stood near the shrine, unmoving—eyes closed, as if she were listening to the wind. I wanted to stretch my legs. So I stepped down from the path. I felt that presence again once I was away from the wagon's edge. It felt weaker than before, but nearly like a breath over my shoulder.
I rolled my neck, and the flames gently flickered along my knuckles as I knelt by the stream and splashed my face. The water is cold and grounding, but not enough to shake the chill crawling down my spine. I looked around, and the clearing was too quiet again. It was like before, but only now, it wasn't just the silence. It was stillness. Even the wind had stopped.
Janil called out softly to everyone. "Hey." We all turned, and he pointed to the ground near the edge of the trail we'd entered through. Beside a small, almost unnoticeable set of boot prints was a smear of something dark. Not red, not blood. It was more like a tar—sticky, clinging to the grass with unnatural consistency.
I approached slowly. "An animal?"
Crest crouched beside it. She ran a gloved finger near the edge, not touching it. "Too cold, yet still fresh," she said. "This isn't from anything natural."
Regalia appeared behind us. She was already staring at the trees. "There are no footprints leaving the area," she said.
"Whatever made this either flew... or vanished," Janil added.
I could feel my stomach knotting. "You think it's been following us since this morning?"
"No," Regalia said quietly. "It's been ahead of us, waiting."
Everyone stood still for a long moment. Then, Thorne sighed, already drawing his blade again. "Of course, the easy jobs are never easy."
Regalia gave him a dry glance. "It's not the job that changed. It's what's watching it."
I turned slowly, my eyes sweeping the tree line.
We were not alone, and the hunt had just begun.
——————————————————————
Silence had settled like a predator. It was so heavy, it had weight. We grouped up and formed a loose formation around the wagon. Our blades were drawn, senses sharp. The wind was dead, and everything else seemed to have vanished. My fire flickered at the tips of my fingers—not because I called it, but because it refused to stay quiet. It was reacting to something.
Regalia hadn't moved. She stared into the woods, her expression unreadable, only one of her swords drawn. Then, she spoke with unnerving calm: "Form up. Now." We barely had time to react before it happened. The trees split open—not physically, not with a crash or a break—but like reality folded inward, bending in a ripple, just long enough for something to step through.
It was tall... wrong. Its limbs were too long, dragging slightly behind like they weren't attached properly. Its skin was bone-white, cracked with black veins that pulsed in slow waves. Its head hung low—no face, only a jagged mouth stitched shut by burnt metal wire. It didn't breathe. It just stood there at the tree line, twitching. It was watching.
Janil whispered, "What in Gaia's name is that?"
Crest didn't answer as she readied herself for combat.
Regalia's voice was low but razor-sharp. "Don't let it touch the wagon. Move now."
The monster twitched once, then screamed. However, it wasn't a sound through its mouth, but through the air itself. A psychic pressure that shoved into our skulls like a spike. I staggered, nearly dropping to one knee as my fire recoiled. My flames instinctively protected me. Then, it lunged. The wagon behind us groaned under its weight. Whatever we were escorting—this thing wanted it.
Combat had exploded. Janil spun his spear, jabbing toward its torso. The creature blurred—moved without steps, phasing to the side. Crest came in from behind, aiming for a tendon—but her dagger barely nicked it before the monster twisted its entire spine backwards, swatting her into a tree.
Regalia struck next. She flashed forward with impossible speed, her blade humming with light and steel. She cut through its arm, but it didn't scream. It didn't bleed. It just kept moving. My body responded before my thoughts could. I surged into the fray, launching a burst of flame at its feet to force it back.
"Don't get close!" Regalia snapped. "It doesn't move normally!"
I nodded, launching firebolts from mid-air. The flames caught it across the ribs, searing flesh—finally, a reaction. The creature twitched, shuddered, and cracked its head upward. It still had no face, but it looked right at me. It took a step, then it vanished.
My eyes widened. "Regalia—!"
The thing blinked—and reappeared in front of me. It was fast, too fast. Its long, broken arm came down like a blade. I barely rolled in time, but the shockwave split the ground beside me. I skidded across dirt and stone, coughing, hands flaring with defensive fire. That thing isn't a beast. It's a hunter. I thought to myself.
Regalia launched herself between them, blade clashing against its claw in a flurry of light. Thorne charged in right beside her, helping.
"You hold the wagon!" Thorne barked. "If it gets that cargo, we've failed."
I forced myself up. Crest was back on her feet, bleeding from her temple. Janil held the perimeter, but it was clear—they were outclassed unless something changed. Unless I changed. I looked at the flames in my hands. I felt the other fire stirring in my chest—the one I wasn't supposed to use. The one Regalia warned me about.
The creature swiped away at Thorne, sending him back into the dirt. The creature shrieked as it and Regalia's clash ended. The monster rushed her with its full weight. I needed to help. I needed to stop holding back. The necklace hummed to life.
I could feel it rising—the mark in my palms pulsing like a drumbeat in my veins, each thump louder than the rest. The creature stood clashing against Regalia. I felt something, almost like a flicker beyond the edge of my breath, coiling around my bones.
Let go... something whispered in me.
When I raised my hand, the flame twisted—not violet, but darker—like coals stained with shadow. My vision pulsed at the edges. One more step and I'd sink into an abyss I never knew was there. That was until I heard it—a second blade drawing. Metal sang through the air.
It was Regalia. It's been well over a month since I started training with her. I never saw her wield more than one sword. For the first time, she drew both swords. One shimmered with radiant silver, the other gleamed like dusk, black-violet with jagged runes that pulsed in sync with her movements. She looked at me momentarily before turning her attention back to the monster.
Her second sword, pulsing in darkness, blew the creature away, causing it to stumble into the forest. Regalia charged the creature head-on. There was no hesitation in her movements, no fear. Steel met limb. Light met void. Regalia twisted mid-strike, one blade arcing high to sever a twitching arm, the other driving into its chest with explosive force. Her control over her elements was a symphony of mastery.
Each strike forced the creature back, not just physically but spiritually. It shrieked—not aloud, but through the air, vibrations in our chests. And for a second, it looked afraid. Regalia's second wind wasn't rage; it was discipline given form. My fire dimmed, and I felt my power seep away.
The creature turned, body broken and limbs dragging faster as it retreated into the trees. It vanished between bark and shadow. Regalia didn't pursue the monstrosity. She just exhaled deeply and sheathed her blades in a single motion. The clearing went quiet. I stood there, breathing heavily, flame fading from my fingers. I almost lost myself there for a second.
The other three mercs gazed at Regalia with admiration and awe. I couldn't help but feel the same. Seeing her fight filled me with the determination to grow stronger. I ran over to her, ecstatic.
"Regalia! That was so cool!" I beamed.
She looked back at me with her usual demeanor. "What? You never saw me use both swords before?"
I shook my head. "You've never used both swords in our training!"
Regalia tilted her head in confusion. "Huh, I never did?" she said, placing a hand on her chin.
Thorne walks up, sheathing his weapon too. "Yeah, that was impressive as always, Regalia," he nods.
"I'm glad she's on our side." Crest grinned as she walked towards us.
Janil nods as he tosses Crest a potion of healing. She gladly accepts it and drinks it fully. Her bleeding stopped almost instantly.
Thorne looks over at the wagon to see if anything is damaged. "She's all good," he comments.
We all sigh in relief. The presence I felt was over, but there was something new to be concerned about. That voice... it came back. It was for a moment, but I heard it. I couldn't unhear it whenever it speaks. It plays like a broken record in my thoughts. I needed to tell Regalia about it. Maybe she'd know...
We settled near the edge of the clearing. No one said much. Janil reinforced the ward perimeter. Crest sharpened her blades, checking the edge for corrosion. Thorne kept by the wagon, scrawling quick notes in his mission journal. The sun dipped behind the cliffs, casting long shadows that danced across the camp.
Regalia stood a little ways off, arms crossed, gaze distant. She was watching the trees. I walked up to her slowly. She didn't look at me, but she spoke.
"You handled yourself better than before."
I nodded, quietly. "I almost lost it."
"But you didn't."
I hesitated, then said, "My vision pulsed. It was like the world dimmed around the edges. And there were... whispers. It was like someone telling me to open the doors."
Regalia said nothing at first.
Then: "It's like I said, Daniel. You're not normal. You're far from it." She paused. "You are something this world has tried to bury deep in its history."
I tilted my head. "Huh? Buried history?"
Regalia looked at me. "Surely, you must've snooped around to learn about yourself, no?"
She fully turned to me. "You're a Gatekeeper."
My eyes widened. I knew that, but... I never wanted to admit it. I looked down at my hands.
"So, you knew?"
Regalia nodded once. "It was my hypothesis. When I saw you flare up in that battle, it confirmed it."
The mark beneath my gloves and bandages pulsed dimly. "It didn't feel evil," I admitted. "Just... egaer."
"It isn't evil, but it's not good either. It's a force. One that wants to merge with you. Feed from you. Make you forget where it ends and you begin."
She puts a hand on my shoulder, her grip firm. "What you almost went through was called a 'Flickering State.' Your power increases slightly, and your speed increases. However, it's uncontrollable and could happen at any time of emotional intensity."
I looked at her, surprised, yet confused. "...How do you know all this?"
She took her hand off my shoulder. She looked reluctant to say anything. Her eyes darted away from me.
I swallowed. "Have you seen someone give in to it?"
Regalia's eyes darkened as she finally looked back at me. "Yes."
She didn't say more, and I didn't ask. I understood her silence. I nodded once more.
"I'll hold it back. I promise."
She didn't nod this time.
"I don't want you to hold it back. I want you to master it. To make it kneel to you and you alone."
Then, she turned back to the trees.
I returned to the campfire and sat down next to it. It was flickering, but not fading.
——————————————————————
That night, I could barely sleep. Those thoughts played in my mind like a record on repeat. I must learn to terraform it if I'm finally breaking new ground here. I know this power is not all inherited from me. It's been bestowed upon me, whether it's a gift or a curse; I need to figure that out quickly.
I don't know when I did, but I eventually passed out. Morning came with a gray sky and wet air. We didn't speak much as we broke camp. Janil and Crest moved with military rhythm. Thorne tightened the last of the wagon straps, silent for once. Regalia kept her voice low as she checked the wheels and perimeter runes.
Something about surviving a thing like that leaves people quiet. It's as if we'd all glimpsed something that didn't speak our language but still knew our names. I finished wrapping my hand again and placed my gloves on top. The mark still pulsed, but it was soft and steady.
We rolled out just after dawn. We didn't stick to the formal path anymore—just packed dirt and the echo of an old road buried under moss and time. The destination lay ahead: a guild outpost tucked into the ridge of a broken canyon. Two more hours, maybe three.
We didn't encounter any more ambushes. No twisted shadows either. Just the hum of the wagon wheels and the quiet destination of five people who had been through hell and weren't eager to talk about it. Luckily, though, we're all still here. Scarred. But still ours.
We arrived just before noon. According to Thorne's map, the trees gave way to cracked earth and stone, the remains of a dirt road leading into what was once a town called Red Hollow. But nothing here looked alive. I counted maybe three structures still standing in full. The rest? Ruins. Silent. Dead.
We brought the wagon to a halt near what used to be a town square. A dried fountain lay cracked and bone-dry at its center, its old elemental core shattered. Thorne dismounted, his expression unreadable.
"Are you sure this is the right place?" I asked.
He didn't answer immediately. He just stepped forward and checked his crystal slate. "Coordinates match. This is it."
Regalia stepped beside him. "This place was supposed to have a temporary guild outpost."
Thorne nodded. "That's what the job file said. The post-disaster rebuild crew was assigned three weeks ago. Routine supply drop."
I looked around. "Doesn't look routine."
Janil scouted the rooftops. "I don't see movement."
"Neither do I," Crest added, already re-checking the perimeter. "And it's too quiet. No crows, no flies. Not even rot. This place was cleaned."
Thorne muttered. "No signs of cleanup teams either..."
Then—footsteps. Five figures approached from behind the collapsed church ruins at the far end of the square. Dressed in travel cloaks and partial armor. No guild badges showing, but their posture was casual. Too casual. The man in the front raised a hand.
"About time," he said. "You're late."
Thorne narrowed his eyes. "Guild liaison?"
The man nodded. "Yeah. We've been waiting for days."
"You weren't supposed to be on-site until today." Thorn gruntled.
"Change of plans. Orders shifted."
Regalia didn't move, but I could feel her tension spike. I could almost hear her eyes calculating.
"Got a passcode?" Thorne asked.
The man didn't answer right away. His smile flickered. "Relax, friend," he said. "We're on the same side."
That was the first red flag. Thorne shifted his stance. "You didn't give the code."
The man shrugged. "Don't remember it. We're just here for the package."
I took a step closer to Regalia. She was already moving to her sword. Crest edged near the wagon. Janil leaned into a whisper. "This doesn't feel right."
Thorne's voice was quiet. "They're not guild."
The strangers stopped walking. Too far to see their faces clearly—but one of them adjusted their hood just enough for me to catch a glint of metal beneath their jaw. It wasn't armor, it was wire. Burnt black wire, stitched into their skin, just like the creature from the forest. My blood ran cold.
"They're stalling," I muttered.
Regalia's voice was like frost: "Get ready."
The leader of the fake guild finally smiled. It was wide, wrong. His teeth were too sharp.
"Thanks for bringing it all this way."
The man's face split open, and the others dropped their hoods, revealing twisted flesh, half-monster, half-human. Their bodies were trembling with something unnatural, trying to hold shape. These guys were some mimics, infiltrators. Whatever waited in this town... it had never been human.
I should've moved. Drawn my flames, warned the others. Called out to Regalia. But I didn't. Because the second their hoods dropped—when I saw the one on the far left, the smallest of the five—I froze. It looked like the others: pale, cracked skin stretched too thin, bone protrusions like armor, stitched metal wires laced beneath the flesh like vines.
But this one... This one had eyes. Not like a person's, but not like a monster's either. They were hollow—but not empty. They were familiar. And when they locked onto mine, my mark burned. Not hot, but cold. Like something was pulling backwards through me. Not out of me—but into memory.
"You've seen this before..."
My head pounded. My breath caught. The world flickered—not how it does when I lose control, but like I'd stepped between two pages in a book I wasn't supposed to read. For a second, the creature's body stuttered. It wasn't like a glitch, but like it recognized. Like it knew me, and it wanted me to know it too.
Then it opened its mouth—and I swear I heard a whisper. Not a snarl, not a screech. Just a word:
"Gatekeeper."
I staggered back a step. Regalia's voice cut through the haze like a blade: "Daniel!"
And just like that... everything exploded.
The leader screamed—his voice cracked the stone beneath his feet, and he lunged. The others followed, their bodies twisting mid-air, limbs snapping in unnatural angles, jaws wide. Regalia was the first to meet them. Her twin blades drawn in one smooth motion, crossing in front of Thorne as she shouted, "Protect the wagon!"
Janil speared the creature to the right, pinning it to the wall. It shrieked, not from pain, but from losing hold of its disguise. Crest tolled forward, slashing at the legs of one that lunged for me. But I wasn't looking at it. I was still looking at the small one. It hadn't moved. It just stood there, breathing heavily, twitching.
Its stitched lips trembled. In that moment, I realized something horrifying. It wasn't here to attack. It had followed me. It didn't want the cargo; it wanted confirmation. My mark pulsed again. And suddenly, it turned and ran into the ruins, away from the others.
Regalia!" I shouted. "One of them's breaking off!"
She parried a clawed strike. "Let it! Focus on what's here!"
I heard her command, but my body was already moving. Not because I wanted to, but because I needed to know. I had to see what that thing remembered about me. I ran towards the fleeing creature. The others were shouting behind me, but I didn't stop. I couldn't. The creature bolted through the collapsed remains of an old chapel, ducking between scorched stone and twisted metal.
I moved after it, fire sparking at my heels as I jumped over debris and burst through what used to be a doorway. Everything inside me screamed, "Don't go alone." But my make pulsed again—like it was reaching toward something—like this wasn't just instinct. Like it was a tether.
The creature stumbled down a side corridor. Its form shimmered. Flickered. Almost like it didn't know what it wanted to be. Human? Monster? Memory? It kept twitching, and I kept following. The deeper I went, the colder it got. Not from wind, but something else. A spiritual cold. The kind that sinks into your ribs and makes you feel like you left your body behind five steps ago.
Eventually, the creature stopped. We stood inside the broken remains of what used to be a town hall. Its upper levels were caved in, and the central floor was half-buried in ash and collapsed banners. The creature turned toward me. It didn't attack; it dropped to its knees instead. It began scraping the stone with its claws.
It was writing something, slowly, shaking. I stepped closer, fire low in my hands, ready to defend—but something about it... It wasn't hostile; it was afraid and trying to remember. I looked at what it carved:
——————————————————————
"You were fire—
I was shadow—
And we were one."
——————————————————————
My breath caught. "What are you?" I whispered. The creature looked up. And for the briefest moment, its face shifted, just for a second. Just long enough to resemble someone I'd once known. Before the scars, before the stitches. A face I'd seen in dreams.
Then it screeched—painfully—like something behind it was pulling the strings too tight. It backed away from its message. And then... it set itself on fire. Its body erupted in violet flame—corrupted, unholy, screaming as it writhed and burned and ended itself before I could reach it. I stood frozen in the smoke, the fire reflected in my eyes. My mark stopped pulsing, but my heart was racing.
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Regalia knew the moment Daniel broke formation. She didn't need to look—she felt the shift. Like a thread had been pulled from their line's fabric, everything behind it had loosened just enough to feel wrong. She slashed through one of the creatures, bisecting it with both blades in an X-arc, and barked out, "Reyes, status!?"
No reply.
Thorne answered instead. "He chased one! Broke off west!"
Regalia's jaw clenched. Dammit Daniel.
Another creature lunged toward Crest—Regalia intercepted, plunging her shadow-forged blade through its chest and shoving it with her knee. "Hold the perimeter!" she ordered. "Janil—tighten defense around the wagon. Do not let anything breach the seal!"
She sprinted toward the ruins, and ash kicked up around her boots. She moved fast—too fast for most people to follow—but her concern wasn't speed. It was timing. She knew what might happen if Daniel let the tether speak again, if he slipped too far into it.
She reached the side hall of the broken chapel and saw the smoke rising. Regalia slowed inside the crumbling building; the air was thick with violet fire and lingering energy. Daniel stood alone, eyes wide, chest heaving, flame curling weakly at his fingertips. He didn't even look at her when she entered.
"What did you see?" she asked, voice low.
Daniel didn't answer. He just pointed.
And saw the words carved in stone.
She stared and then quietly whispered, "...Oh no."
Daniel finally looked at her. "What does it mean?"
Regalia didn't answer right away. Because the truth she feared most was that Daniel's power wasn't just cursed. It was shared. And someone else had just tried to remember it.
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The flames had burned out. All that remained of the creature was ash. But the words it carved stayed etched into the stone, still smoldering faintly as if the heat lingered in their meaning more than their making. I stared at them like they might change if I looked long enough. They didn't.
I didn't speak until Regalia did.
"Do you know what that means?" I asked her.
She stepped forward slowly, boots crunching over loose rubble. Her twin swords were still drawn but relaxed at her sides.
"I have... ideas," she said.
"That's not an answer."
"It's the best you're getting right now."
I turned to face her. "It knew me. It didn't want to fight. It was trying to remember."
Regalia's eyes narrowed.
"I felt it," I said. 'The tether, but it wasn't pulling me inward this time. It was... reaching outward like we shared something. A memory. Or a place."
Regalia stared at the words again. Her voice dropped lower, more careful. "Some Gatekeepers don't draw their power from a sealed well."
I frowned. "What does that mean?"
"It means... not all of them are alone in their curse."
The words hit like cold water. "You're saying this thing was a Gatekeeper?"
"No," she said. "I'm saying it may have been... linked to one."
I looked back at the ash pile. "Then how did it know me?"
Regalia didn't answer, which was an answer in itself.
"I thought you didn't believe in fate," I muttered.
"I don't."
"Then what is this?"
She looked at me—really looked at me—and for once, her voice didn't sound like a mentor or a soldier. It sounded like someone who'd been running from their own questions for years. "Maybe," she said quietly. "This isn't fate."
"Maybe this is history trying to claw its way back."
We stood in silence for a while longer. The others are still fighting outside. We'd hear from them soon. But for this moment, it was just me, her, and the words burned into the floor between us.
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"You were fire—
I was shadow—
And we were one."
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By the time we returned, the sky had turned silver-gray. Storm clouds were gathering over the broken rooftops, and the scent of burning wood and corrupted blood lingered in the air. The wind had picked up, howling low through the ruins like a warning that arrived too late.
Only one creature remained. It was their leader—the one who first greeted us with lies—now standing in the center of the square, flanked by scattered debris, its cloak torn, wires coiled like black veins across its exposed chest. Its mouth was still stitched shut, but it made noise anyway—a deep, resonant howl.
It was holding its ground against three fighters at once. Janil's spear snapped sideways, barely deflected. Crest's blades struck sparks against its body, but couldn't land a finishing blow. Thorne, bleeding from his shoulder, backed up to regroup. The thing was fast. It had learned from the others. It didn't go wild. It dodged and watched. Then, countered. It fought like someone who'd studied its prey for years.
It was waiting for someone, and when it saw Regalia and me step back into view, it stood straighter. It was almost proud. It was almost inviting.
"Back off," Regalia commanded, walking past the others without hesitation. "This one's ours."
Janil nodded, panting. "Be our guest."
I stepped up beside her. The monster didn't run. It didn't even flinch. It raised its clawed hand slowly and pointed—not at the wagon. At me
"You were meant to come here, something seemed to say, even without words. This fight is the key."
Regalia raised both swords. "Ready?" she asked.
My flame lit in my hands before I even spoke.
"Yeah," I said. "Let's get this over with."
The creature moved first. It was like lightning, faster than the rest. It disappeared in a flicker and reappeared between us. Regalia parried instinctively—steel met claw, shadow met light, erupting from the clash. I spun around, flame bursting beneath my boots as I launched upward, catching its side with a trailing arc of heat.
It screamed, mouth still sealed, sound splitting from its skin instead. Regalia followed with a dual slash that left afterimages, her footwork perfect, her body a blur between elements. One blade was forged from light, the other from steel and shadow. Her every strike burned through the creature's unnatural armor.
It lunged at me—I blocked with both forearms, redirecting it mid-spin with a burst of flame. It landed awkwardly, twisted—but it still didn't fall.
"Why won't it break?" I shouted.
Regalia didn't answer. Instead, she threw her shadow blade—not at the monster, but into the air. It spun once, then split mid-flight, shattering into six black streaks that rained down like falling stars, pinning the creature in place.
"Now!" she shouted.
The necklace hummed once more. I didn't hesitate. I poured everything into my arms. Fire. Dark. Rage. Restraint. The power felt like it came from me and me alone. I struck the creature hard. The flames exploded outward, not in chaos, but in shape. Almost like the wing of a phoenix. A blade's edge. It carved through the creature's chest, igniting from the inside. It fell, no screams, no tricks. There wasn't even a transformation. It slowly burned away into ashes.
The aftermath was quiet. We stood there in the end, breathing hard. The storm above didn't break. It just hovered like it's waiting.
"Is it over?" I asked.
Regalia looked around the field. "For now," she said. "But this wasn't random."
I nodded. "I know."
We both looked down at the blackened spot where the leader fell. Not random at all.
The storm never came. It lingered, hanging low in the sky like a judgment left unspoken—but it didn't break. No thunder. No rain. Just clouds swollen with the weight of something held back, much like me. We buried the last corrupted remains beneath the cracked stone of the square, not because it deserved the gesture, but because we did. Because even monsters should be put down with purpose.
Crest worked in silence, methodically. Janil stood watch. Thorne re-checked the cargo. No one said much. And deep down, I was grateful for the quiet. I walked through what used to be a library. It had collapsed inward, the books long burned, but some stonework still stood. Ash clung to the walls like a second skin—old memories, scorched beyond recognition.
I stood in the middle, just breathing... and thinking. You were fire. I was shadow. And we were one. That phrase wouldn't leave me alone. Not because I understood—it was the opposite of that. But I knew, something inside me did. That creature, whoever it was, didn't want to hurt me.
It wanted me to remember.
And it wanted me to remember too.
But what?
Another life?
Another flame?
Another version of me?
I crouched near a scorched wall and ran my fingers along the stone. My hand left soot behind, a dark trail against faded carvings. I looked at my palm—still warm. Still tethered. Still me. But for how long? I overlooked Regalia until she sat down beside me. Her swords were left behind. She didn't give orders. She was quiet.
"Storm's not coming," I said. "Not today."
We sat there for a while, not as teacher and student, not as soldier and weapon, just as two people who'd seen too much and weren't ready to name it yet. Then I asked, 'Do you think I was someone else before all this?"
Regalia didn't answer immediately, but she eventually said softly, "I think you're someone now."
...And somehow... that helped.
We left the Red Hollow by late afternoon. The wagon was still intact. The cargo was untouched, but we couldn't say the same for ourselves. As we disappeared into the trees again, I took one last look at the ruins. At the broken stones. At the burned messages. At the place where fire met shadow. And I promised myself—If that was only the beginning? Then, I'd find the rest.