Far from the Crimson Dominion, beyond the Sable Reaches and the ruined citadels of the Old Kings, a storm crackled over the Hollow Steppe. Lightning danced across the sky, illuminating a solitary figure standing amidst shattered monoliths.
She was young—no older than Russ—but her presence made the very air hum with raw energy. Eyes glowing violet. Hair whipped by wind not her own. Blood dripped from her fingertips, yet none of it was hers.
The half-blood had awakened.
She knelt beside a corpse—once a high inquisitor of the Obsidian Order—now nothing more than ash with a sword embedded in it. She pulled the blade free. It hissed in protest, as if bound to its former master.
"Not anymore," she said coldly, her voice layered—like two spirits speaking at once.
Behind her, a cloaked figure watched. One of the remaining Writborn.
"You've taken the pact," he said.
"I didn't have a choice."
He nodded. "Then your destiny is sealed. You are to be the second gate. The Mirror."
She sheathed the blade and turned to him. "And the first gate?"
"Russ Talen."
Her lip curled. "Then I suppose we're fated to meet."
"To clash," the Writborn corrected. "Only one gate may survive. That is the law of the Nexus Spiral."
She didn't reply. Instead, she walked toward the edge of the cliff overlooking the valley below. From here, she could feel it—his presence. Like a memory bleeding through time.
"So be it," she whispered. "Let him come. I'm done waiting."
---
Back with Russ and the others, the mood was darker. Vera's words lingered like poison in the air. As they traveled east toward the Plateau of Echoes, no one spoke much.
Layla tried to lift the tension. "Okay, but seriously—if we're dealing with 'another chosen one,' should we be worried?"
Minx, munching on dried roots, shrugged. "If she's anything like Russ, she's probably got a moody attitude, a tragic backstory, and a god complex."
Russ didn't rise to the bait.
Geo adjusted his pack. "We should prepare. If what Vera said is true, this half-blood might not just be a threat—she might be a reflection. Russ's other half. The part he hasn't faced yet."
"And if she opens her gate first?" Layla asked.
Russ looked ahead, jaw clenched. "Then I'm already too late."
---
That night, Russ dreamt of fire and stone. Of a girl with violet eyes standing amidst collapsing worlds. She looked at him—not with hatred, but with regret.
"I didn't want this," she said. "But they made me."
"Who are you?" he asked.
Her voice echoed. "I'm your undoing."
He awoke with a start, breath ragged. His hand throbbed with voidlight again—stronger now, more demanding. The Codex within him was stirring. Eager.
"Not yet," he muttered. "I'm still me."
But for how long?
---
In the shadows of the world, two destinies marched toward each other—born of blood, shaped by betrayal, and chosen by powers older than gods.
And when they met, the world would split—either into salvation…
…or oblivion.