The Revenants had been fighting, bleeding, and clawing through destiny for so long that silence felt alien.
They found themselves in a half-ruined village on the edge of a shattered plain. Roofs collapsed, walls caved in—but the hearth of one home still burned. Ashveil, with his shadows coiling lazily around him like a cat, leaned against the doorway and grinned.
"Well, boys," he said, "looks like the universe finally gave us chairs. Let's try not to break 'em."
Zarynth dropped into the nearest one with a flop, propping his boots on the table without hesitation. "Too late. Consider this chair already ruined by sheer magnificence."
Kairo sighed, rubbing his temple. "You're going to snap it in half."
"Good," Zarynth replied. "Then it becomes two chairs."
The others chuckled. Even Caelthorn, who rarely broke from his abyssal solemnity, allowed himself the faintest smile as he lowered his armored frame into a seat.
Lucien, meanwhile, sat quietly by the fire. The glow painted his pale features, making his eyes seem softer, more human. He wasn't lost in the White or destiny—not tonight. He was just… here.
Veythar set down a jug of ale he'd found, slamming it onto the table. "Enough brooding. We live, we drink. That's the rule."
Ashveil raised his brow. "I didn't know we had rules."
"Now we do."
They laughed, passing the jug around. The first time in what felt like forever that laughter filled the air.
The peace didn't last long. It never did.
The next morning, six figures arrived. Women, cloaked in different hues, stepping through the morning mist as if they had been walking toward the Revenants for lifetimes.
Lucien felt it first—a resonance. Not the White, not the void, but something else. Their presences didn't feel foreign. They felt… connected. Opposite, yet whole.
Ashveil's grin actually faltered when the first removed her hood. A woman with long hair like ink, eyes sharp as blades. Shadows rippled around her like his own.
"Well, that's unsettling," he muttered.
The leader stepped forward, a woman whose silver gaze met Lucien's without flinching. Her presence was calm but radiant, like moonlight over water. "We are the Mirrored Six," she said simply. "Born of the same voids you wield. Bound to the same fate. We are your other halves."
Zarynth choked on his drink. "Other halves? Oh, don't start—"
"Don't flatter yourself," her counterpart snapped, glaring at him with equal fire. "I'd sooner strangle you than—"
"—fall madly in love with me? Yeah, it happens a lot."
The room erupted in chaos.
Veythar smirked as his counterpart, tall and regal with a crown of faint crimson energy, met his eyes with a steady challenge. "So," he said, "my equal in Bloodsteel. Let's see if you can actually hold your liquor."
Kairo's partner leaned against the wall, her aura bending faintly with time. She gave him a knowing smile. "You don't sleep much, do you?"
His brow furrowed. "…How would you—?"
"Because neither do I."
Lucien's gaze lingered on the silver-eyed leader. There was no banter, no smirk. Just… understanding. A silence that felt heavier than words.
The Organization
Over the next days, chaos turned to planning. The twelve of them sat around the ruined table, arguing, laughing, scheming.
Ashveil's counterpart suggested order; Zarynth's argued for chaos. Kairo's wanted structure; Veythar's demanded strength. But slowly, their voices began to align.
"We can't face what's coming alone," Caelthorn finally said, his abyssal voice carrying over the noise. "If the outer beings send armies, we need more than six blades—or twelve. We need an army."
Lucien leaned forward, fingers steepled. "Not an army. Something sharper. Something that cuts deeper." His eyes glowed faintly, but not with menace—with vision. "A brotherhood. A sisterhood. A circle that stands above kingdoms."
The silver-eyed woman nodded. "Then we build it together. A name for the twelve, and for those who will follow."
Zarynth leaned back, smirking. "Finally. A club worth joining."
Ashveil chuckled. "Oh, this isn't a club. This is a warning."
And so the twelve agreed—the Revenants and the Mirrored Six would forge an organization to face what lay beyond. Not rulers. Not saviors. Something different.
Something inevitable.