The tavern's floorboards groaned under pressure that didn't come from weight. The pressure came from something else—presence. A suffocating, soul-curdling presence that made everyone freeze.
Then they stepped in.
Three figures. Each draped in cloaks stitched from charred hymn pages, their faces hidden behind cracked porcelain masks that wept ash. The one in front—taller, leaner—wore a crown of twisted nails and thorns.
The Ash Choir.
Kade gritted his teeth. His fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword, but the blade trembled in his hand.
Veyne pulled him behind a table. "Don't engage yet," he hissed. "That one's a Herald. You're not ready for that."
"Then what do we do?"
"We stall."
Lira moved forward. Her voice, usually soft, rang like a bell. "This is neutral ground. Gravepoint's pact forbids bloodshed in the Sleeve."
The crowned figure tilted its head.
When it spoke, it was with many voices overlapping. Children. Elders. Screams.
> "Gravepoint's pact ends where Fragments begin."
Morrik sipped his tea, unfazed. "That's not how time remembers it."
The Herald stepped forward.
And reality rippled.
With each footstep, ash fell from the air like snow. Tables rotted. Bottles aged a century and shattered. Patrons screamed and fled, but the Whispering Sleeve shifted to trap them inside.
"Stay behind me," Veyne ordered, pulling a charm from his coat. It glowed with a jagged blue light, pulsing in sync with Kade's Veilmark.
Lira drew two curved knives and whispered to Kade, "We can't win. But we can delay. When I say run—you run."
The Herald raised a hand.
And the room exploded into fire and screaming.
Veyne's charm flared. A shield of flickering light surrounded Kade and his companions as splinters and flame filled the air. A burst of arcane force blew back half the tavern—walls included.
Smoke blinded Kade, but a scream cut through it. Not in pain—in rage.
Lira had vanished from his side.
Across the room, she danced between the flames, knives glowing, her blindfold fluttering. She struck the Herald once—twice—but her blades passed through it as if slicing memory.
Then the Herald reached out.
Touched her forehead.
And she froze.
Mid-step.
Kade's heart stopped.
"LIRA!"
But something inside him stirred. The sword on his back pulsed. The Veilmark on his chest burned.
Time slowed.
He could see ash frozen mid-air.
The Herald turning toward him—mask cracking.
> "The Fragment resists," it whispered.
Kade moved.
He didn't remember drawing the sword. Didn't remember charging. Only the sudden clarity—like his body was being guided by a deeper rhythm.
He slashed.
The blade connected.
The Herald recoiled. Its mask split down the middle. Ash bled from the crack like tar. For the first time… it stepped back.
Then the second voice rang out.
From within the sword.
> "So. You still remember how to kill."
A shockwave exploded outward.
The Herald screamed in layered voices and vanished in a storm of scorched music sheets and smoldering flame.
Kade fell to one knee, gasping, eyes wide. Veyne grabbed him and hauled him up.
"No time! More will come."
"What the hell just happened?!"
"You just pissed off the Choir again. You'll get used to it."
They ran.
Lira was unconscious, but breathing. Veyne carried her. Morrik had vanished.
Gravepoint twisted around them, paths warping, alleys sealing off. But Kade followed the pull of the sword, each step guided by something he didn't yet understand.
Finally, they burst into a hidden alleyway, an old elevator creaking open. Veyne jammed the button.
"Where are we going?" Kade gasped.
Veyne looked grim. "To meet the Silent Curator. If anyone knows why the Choir's after you so early… it's him."
Kade looked down at the sword still glowing in his hand. "What… are you?"
The blade pulsed once. A whisper echoed in his mind.
> "I am what remains of your other life."
The elevator dropped.
---
Elsewhere…
The Ash Choir's Herald reformed in a black cathedral. Its cracked mask still bled ash.
A figure loomed on the altar. Horned. Draped in gold-laced robes. Eyes like stars in collapse.
"You failed," the figure said simply.
The Herald knelt.
"He has awakened."
The robed figure's grin widened.
"Then it begins again."
---