The industrial city remained shrouded in fog. The attack of the Cult of Mist had subsided, yet the streets were still filled with the shadows Frey had written. Citizens ran, screams echoed, and gas lamps flickered dimly. Amidst the chaos, the clock tower stood tall, its hands frozen at twelve.
Frey walked trembling, the pen still clinging to his fingers. Hunter followed behind, silent, his eyes dripping black ink that crawled across the ground. Selene Arkwright stood within the mist, her long white hair flowing, her silver eyes gleaming. Aurelia Crowe hid behind a brick wall, her eyes wide with fear.
The whisper echoed in Frey's ears.
"Your time has come. Write your name. Write your Chronicle."
Frey swallowed hard. "My name? I have already written it…"
Selene stepped closer, her voice trembling.
"The name you wrote was your old one. Now you must accept your new name. The name that will bind you to the Chronicle."
Hunter advanced, staring at Frey. He did not speak, but his gaze pressed heavily, as if to say: you must write.
Frey gripped the pen tighter. He knew every word was disaster. He knew every word demanded a price. Yet he also knew he could not stop.
On the blank sheet that appeared in his hand, he wrote:
"I am Frey Vaelborn."
The fog quivered. The city shook. The world trembled. Ancient symbols appeared upon the clock tower's walls, glowing black, pulsing like a heart.
The whisper grew louder.
"That is your old name. Your new name awaits. Your new name is a curse."
Frey staggered back. "No… I don't want this…"
Selene drew closer, her fingers dripping ink.
"You have no choice. The pen has chosen you. The Chronicle has chosen you."
Aurelia cried out from afar. "Don't! You can still resist!"
Frey shut his eyes, tears streaming. He knew he could not resist. He knew every word was disaster. Yet he also knew that if he stopped, Hunter would move.
Slowly, he wrote:
"My name is Chronicle."
At once, the chamber shook. The ancient symbols shattered, releasing black light that engulfed the city. From within came voices—screams, whispers, broken prayers.
Hunter stood at the altar of ink, silent, staring at Frey. He did not move, but his gaze pressed heavily, as if to say: you have accepted.
Selene gazed at him, her silver eyes gleaming.
"Now you are Chronicle. Now you are the writer who should not exist."
Aurelia rushed forward, trembling. "No… you are still Frey… you are still human…"
Frey looked at her, tears flowing. "I… I don't know who I am anymore…"
The whisper grew louder, echoing across the city.
"Welcome to your name, Chronicle Vaelborn."