The Plateau of Echoes loomed like a titan's graveyard—wind-swept, broken, and haunted by whispers that weren't carried by any breeze. As Russ and his companions reached the ridge, a wave of pressure hit them, almost like crossing into another realm.
"What... is this place?" Layla asked, shielding her eyes.
Minx's ears twitched. "It's like the rocks are talking. I don't like it."
"They are," Geo said quietly. "The Plateau holds memories. Echoes of ancient battles. Every scream, every spell cast—it lingers here."
Russ felt it in his bones. Something ancient had died here. Something powerful. And whatever it was had never truly left.
Vera knelt and placed her hand on the ground. "This is where the first Gatewar began. The last time the Veil trembled."
Layla blinked. "Gatewar? You're just now bringing this up?"
Vera didn't look up. "Because the last one ended in extinction. Entire realms were swallowed. Names erased from the Codex. And now... history wants to repeat itself."
Russ stepped forward, eyes fixed on the center of the plateau where a lone spire jutted out like a broken fang.
"That's where we'll find it," he said.
"Find what?" Minx asked, ears flicking nervously.
"Answers," Russ said. "And maybe... the key to staying ahead of the other Gate."
---
Meanwhile, in the obsidian halls of the Crimson Dominion, the High Thirst convened. A circle of purebloods, each older than kingdoms, their fangs gilded and their hearts cold as stone.
"She awakens," one whispered.
"The Half-Blood?" another sneered. "A blight."
"A necessity," the eldest said. "Two gates. One outcome. It has always been this way."
"She cannot control her power. She drinks recklessly."
"She learns fast."
"And what of the Veilbearer's heir?" another asked, tapping clawed fingers on the table.
"Russ Talen walks the same path. They are converging."
Silence followed. Then:
"Then let them clash. And let the stronger gate reign."
---
Atop the spire in the Plateau of Echoes, Russ placed his hand against ancient runes. They pulsed faintly, reacting to the voidlight in his veins.
A blinding light burst forth—and they were all pulled into a memory.
They stood—ghostlike—amidst an army of ancients. Arcane banners. War cries. A sky filled with rifts.
A hooded warrior with the same glowing brand as Russ stood at the center, blade raised, speaking to a council of seven.
"If both gates open," the warrior warned, "the Codex will not choose—it will consume."
"Then we must ensure only one rises," a council member said grimly.
The vision shattered.
They gasped as they were thrown back into the present.
"What the hell was that?" Minx growled.
"A warning," Geo replied. "From the last bearer of the Codex."
Russ's heart pounded. "Only one gate can remain."
"And if both open?" Layla asked.
Russ turned to the horizon. He could feel her now—closer. Stronger.
"Then the Codex will decide."
---
Beneath darkening skies, two storms gathered. One forged in blood. One born of void.
The Gatewar wasn't coming.
It had already begun.