Chapter 14: The Voice in the Tome
Lucien was drowning.
The crimson light surged around him, burning his skin, searing into his bones. His scream was swallowed by the roar of the hymn, though no sound left his lips. The sword in his grip vibrated like it would shatter, its runes flaring against the torrent of power.
In the void of light, the world dissolved. The stone choir, the dais, even Liora—all faded until only Lucien remained, suspended in a vast, blood-colored abyss.
And then he heard it again.
"You carry my song in steel, child."
A towering figure emerged from the red haze—cloaked in shadows, face obscured by a mask of fractured bone. His voice was the hymn itself, layered with thousands of echoes. Every word pressed down on Lucien like chains.
Lucien raised Requiem between them, defiant. "Who are you?"
The figure tilted its head. "I am the one who wrote the first notes of Requiem. The one who bound sorrow into steel. You wield what you cannot comprehend."
Lucien's jaw tightened. "Then teach me. Or stay out of my way."
The figure laughed, a hollow, shattering sound that rattled Lucien's bones. "Bold. But ignorance does not shield you. That blade was never forged to protect. It was made to end. Every strike it takes feeds the hymn. Every soul you fell adds to the choir."
Lucien's breath hitched. The statues. The petrified city. The endless chant. All of it… was the sword's legacy.
"No," he growled. "I won't be your vessel. I'll wield this blade on my terms."
The figure's mask split with a crack, revealing a void beneath. "Then you will break."
---
The crimson abyss collapsed. Lucien was slammed back into reality. His knees struck the dais hard, his vision swimming. Liora's shout cut through the roar:
"Lucien!"
He blinked. She was holding off three statues at once, her armor cracked, blood on her lip. The hymn thundered louder than ever, the choir surging forward. The tome pulsed beside him, open and glowing, its pages turning without wind.
The voice hissed inside his skull. "Strike the tome, and you strike yourself."
Lucien gritted his teeth, forcing the voice back. He wrapped both hands around Requiem. The runes blazed brighter than ever, answering the tome's call, as though blade and book longed to reunite.
Liora's scream tore his focus. She stumbled, her sword knocked from her hand as a statue raised a jagged spear.
Lucien's blood ignited. In one motion, he launched forward, Requiem cleaving the statue in two. The blast of energy from the strike ripped through the hall, reducing three more to rubble. He stood over Liora, chest heaving, eyes burning crimson.
"Lucien…" Liora's voice was small, uncertain. "Your eyes…"
He didn't answer. Couldn't. The hymn was inside him now, clawing at his mind. But he turned back toward the tome. He knew what he had to do.
---
He raised Requiem high, channeling every ounce of fury, defiance, and will into the strike.
"Break!"
The sword came down. Steel met iron. The tome shrieked as though alive, a sound so piercing the statues froze mid-motion. A shockwave ripped outward, shattering pillars, collapsing stone.
The hymn faltered, breaking apart into a thousand cries of anguish. The statues collapsed, lifeless once more.
Lucien staggered, gasping. The tome lay split, crimson light leaking from its torn pages like blood.
But the voice whispered still. "Foolish heir… breaking chains does not end the song. It frees it."
The leaking light surged, flowing across the ground like a river of fire. It spread to the statues, to the walls, to the ceiling. The entire chamber groaned as though alive.
Liora grabbed Lucien's arm. "It's collapsing! We need to go!"
The ground split beneath them. They sprinted for the stairwell as stone fell around them. Lucien's legs trembled, his lungs burned, but he forced himself onward, dragging Liora when she faltered.
They burst into the cathedral just as the earth roared behind them. The plaza split open, swallowing the cathedral in a maelstrom of fire and rubble. The hymn screamed one final time before fading into silence.
Then—stillness.
Lucien collapsed to one knee, Requiem's tip biting into the stone. Liora dropped beside him, coughing, her armor scorched. For a long moment, neither spoke.
Finally, Liora's voice came, raw and quiet. "Tell me the truth, Lucien. What did you see down there?"
He stared at the blade, the runes still glowing faintly. His reflection in the steel wasn't his own—it flickered, warped, shadowed by something else.
"…I saw the one who forged this curse. And he's not gone."
---
Above them, storm clouds churned unnaturally over Aranthor, crimson lightning flashing in the dark. The air was heavy, pressing down as though the city itself mourned.
Lucien rose slowly, his grip steady on Requiem. His body felt heavier, his veins burning with traces of the hymn. But his eyes hardened with resolve.
"If this sword is cursed to end," he muttered, "then I'll end the right things."
Liora studied him, worry and faith warring in her gaze. At last, she nodded. "Then we finish this together."
The first raindrops fell—thick, dark, metallic. Not rain. Blood. It pattered across the ruins, staining the stones.
The voice whispered one last time in Lucien's ear, softer now, almost amused:
"Every note brings you closer to the finale. And when the Requiem ends… so will you."
Lucien tightened his grip. "Then I'll play it to the last chord."
The storm raged on.