---
The Dead Markets felt colder now.
The air pressed against Silas's skin like it carried the weight of a thousand unseen eyes. He glanced at the silver coin in his palm—it still shimmered, the symbols twisting like living things, but there was a heaviness to it now, an unspoken promise that lingered at the back of his mind.
Nyra walked ahead, leading him out of the markets and back into the labyrinth of ruined streets. Her pace was quick, but her eyes flickered nervously every so often, as if she too could feel the consequences of the deal that had just been struck.
"That coin..." she muttered, her voice tinged with fear. "You shouldn't have taken it."
"I didn't have a choice," Silas said, keeping his voice even. He didn't want to admit it, but the weight of that decision pressed against him harder than any physical blow. "She had what I needed."
Nyra didn't respond immediately. She turned a corner, leading him into a narrow alleyway shrouded in shadow. The darkened path seemed to stretch on forever, as if the world itself was trying to hide them from something.
They reached a crumbling door at the end of the alley, carved with strange runes. Nyra pushed it open without hesitation, revealing a small, dimly lit room inside. A fire crackled in a corner, casting flickering shadows against the walls, and the smell of incense filled the air.
"This is my safehouse," Nyra said, stepping inside. "Not much, but it's hidden well enough. We can lay low here for a while."
Silas stepped in after her, glancing around. There were a few old weapons propped up against the walls and shelves stacked with dusty books and scrolls. It felt... ordinary, for a place that had seen so many battles.
"Thanks," Silas said, his voice quiet. "I didn't think anyone would help me after all that's happened."
Nyra's expression softened, just for a moment, before her usual guarded look returned. "You're not the first person to be stuck in this mess. And I'm not some saint, Silas. I'm just trying to survive. We all are."
He nodded, his thoughts drifting. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was running from something bigger than just the Abyss-born and the Veil. Something more ancient, more insidious.
The coin in his hand flickered again, and he felt the pull of its power. The Veil will come for you, the old woman's words echoed in his mind. Remember your promise.
"What now?" he asked, turning to Nyra. "We've got the weapon, the coin..."
"We train," she said, her voice firm. "You don't have time to waste. The more you understand your power, the more you'll be able to control it."
"I've already seen a part of it," Silas replied. "I can feel the Ash inside me. But it's unstable. I don't know how to use it without risking everything."
"That's where I come in," Nyra said with a small, almost grim smile. "I'll teach you. But this won't be easy. You'll need to learn to harness the Ash, bend it to your will. And that's not something most people can do without breaking."
He looked down at his hand, where faint blue light still pulsed beneath his skin. "How do I even start?"
Nyra gestured to the center of the room. "Focus on the Ash. You'll need to draw it out. But don't think of it as something you control. Think of it as something you become."
Silas closed his eyes, trying to focus. He reached deep inside himself, searching for the pull of the Ash. He could feel it there, like a dormant fire, waiting to be kindled.
As he reached for it, a flash of a past life tore through his mind.
---
Flashback – A Burning City
Riven stood at the gates of a crumbling city. The sky was dark, filled with the shadows of warships descending from the heavens. His hands crackled with power, Ash coursing through his veins, a storm of energy swirling around him.
"You cannot stop this, Riven," a voice called from behind him. "The Veil will claim you, just as it claims all things."
Riven turned, his eyes filled with defiance. "Then let it claim me. But I will not fall alone."
---
Silas gasped, his hand shaking as the memory faded.
"What was that?" he breathed, sweat trickling down his forehead.
"That was you," Nyra said softly. "Or... part of you. You've lived before. That life was tied to the Veil, to the fracture that tore the world apart."
Silas looked up at her, confusion clouding his thoughts. "So... what? I was someone else? A different person?"
Nyra nodded. "You weren't always Silas. And in a way, you still aren't."
She turned and began walking toward one of the shelves, pulling down a dusty tome. "You've been through the Veil, multiple times. Each life a new version of yourself, born from the shards of what once was. But something changed when the Veil broke—the Fracture tore the fabric of time and memory."
She handed him the book. "This will help you understand what the Ash is, and why it calls to you. But be careful. The more you learn, the harder it becomes to hold onto yourself."
---
Elsewhere – In the Heart of the Veil
A shadow watched from the distance, its eyes glowing with ancient knowledge.
"The Echo stirs," the figure murmured, its voice a whisper in the void. "It won't be long now. The debt will be paid."
---
End of Chapter 6
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