The rift groaned as it opened, its edges unraveling like threads pulled from a cosmic tapestry. Lucien stepped through first, his white-shift bleeding faintly along his silhouette, trailing threads of void-light that shimmered before dissolving into the air. Kairo followed, crimson bloodsteel coiling around his wrist like a serpent before vanishing back into his veins.
The world beyond was not as they had left it. The sky burned with a deeper shade, storm clouds twisting unnaturally, winds carrying whispers of a gathering chaos.
Kairo exhaled. "It feels… different. Like the ground itself knows we've been gone."
Lucien scanned the horizon, his pale eyes reflecting the distortion in the air. "Or something stronger has been waiting."
The land answered. A figure stood upon a fractured rise of stone, cloak snapping in a rhythm that ignored the absence of wind. The stranger had his arms folded, chin lifted, as though he had been expecting them all along.
Ashveil.
His voice rolled across the plain like velvet over steel. "Finally. I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever crawl back from Vaeltherion's den."
Lucien's breath caught, recognition sharp and immediate. That voice—it was the same that had pierced through the citadel, declaring him "the first."
"You," Lucien muttered, stepping forward.
Ashveil's lips curved into a smile that danced between amusement and provocation. With a deliberate slowness, he unfurled his arms and extended them outward, cloak stretching unnaturally, as if to embrace the stage that was the world itself. He turned slightly, striking a pose as though sculpted for eternity, every line of his body designed to be unforgettable.
"You expected gratitude?" Ashveil asked. "No. I came only to see if your training forged you into something real. Words are cheap, Lucien Dreamveil. Show me substance."
He moved in a blur. One step, and the ground split. Another, and the sky above buckled, as if rejecting his mere existence. Lucien and Kairo both shifted into stances without thought, the instinctive readiness of those who had endured Vaeltherion's trials.
The clash was instant. Ashveil's palm struck forward, not a strike of brute force but of intent—his will slamming into Lucien's White-flare. The impact rippled outward, toppling trees and sending waves across distant rivers.
Kairo leapt in, bloodsteel flashing, but Ashveil caught it with two fingers, twisting his wrist just enough to send Kairo sprawling. He didn't press the attack—he posed again, cloak fluttering unnaturally as though in dialogue with the chaos around him.
"Predictable," he said, tone carrying both mockery and admiration. "But refined. Vaeltherion hasn't wasted his time on you."
Lucien pushed forward, eyes cold. His blade swept with void-etched precision, cutting through Ashveil's image—only to find the Revenant already behind him, arms outstretched like a conductor preparing an orchestra.
Ashveil whispered, low enough for Lucien alone to hear: "I told you of the others because they cannot ignore you. And because… I wanted to see what would happen if a mirror met a storm."
Lucien turned sharply, blade poised, but Ashveil had already stepped away, crossing his arms once more, head tilted like an actor awaiting applause.
"I have no grand designs," Ashveil continued. "No chains. I do as I wish. If that means fighting you, I fight. If that means following, I follow. The others will not be so kind. They will tear at you until you either break them… or bind them."
The air grew heavier. Ashveil's presence didn't simply fill the space—it defined it, forcing Lucien and Kairo to react within his rhythm. Even when he wasn't moving, the world seemed to shift around him.
Finally, Ashveil exhaled and stepped back, lowering his stance but never his theatrics. "You've passed my little measure. So I'll walk with you—for now. But don't mistake this for loyalty. If I see you falter, I'll vanish again. That's who I am."
Kairo, still catching his breath, glared at him. "You're insufferable."
Ashveil smirked, adjusting his cloak with a flourish. "Insufferable? No. Unforgettable."
He struck one final, unnecessary stance, hand outstretched to the horizon, cloak billowing though the air was still. Lucien's eyes narrowed, but deep down, he felt it—the same bond Ashveil spoke of. The Revenants were tied, whether they wanted it or not.
And this was only the beginning.