In a smoky room deep beneath Old River City, a long marble table sat in the middle of a candle-lit chamber. Around it were twelve chairs, and eleven were already occupied. Men and women cloaked in dark silk and ceremonial armor whispered among themselves in different tongues—some ancient, some encrypted.
On the wall behind them was a single symbol: a broken star circling a black gate.
It was the mark of the Eclipse Council.
One of them finally spoke.
"The Seal is almost complete."
A red-bearded man nodded. "We've secured the fifth fragment from the Southern Caves."
Another woman in dark goggles leaned forward. "And our moles in Central Finance have confirmed the Aureon Group is becoming unstable. Their funds are shifting fast—likely due to internal panic."
A third, a young boy no older than twelve, wearing a velvet hood, giggled. "They fear a ghost."
The red-bearded man narrowed his eyes. "Not a ghost. Him."
The table fell silent.
The air tightened like a string about to snap.
"He's awake?" asked the woman in goggles.
The boy's laughter vanished. "The Seven woke up yesterday."
No one asked how he knew.
He always knew.
---
Central City – Aureon Group Headquarters, Midnight
Anna stared at her laptop in the executive suite. Outside, a light rain patted gently on the window. She had barely slept in days. Laga had said little since the Seven returned, but every movement he made shifted something massive behind the scenes.
Suddenly, a soft knock.
She turned.
Laga stood at the door.
Still dressed in the simple charcoal-gray shirt and dark slacks he always wore, he looked no different.
But Anna could tell—something was… older in his eyes now.
"Sir?" she said, standing.
"You'll be managing things here for the next week," he said simply.
She blinked. "Where are you going?"
"To visit an old friend," he said.
She nodded, then hesitated. "Sanda…"
Laga looked at her.
Something flickered between them—unspoken but understood.
"You always knew more than you showed," he said.
She smiled gently. "And you always carried more than you let go."
He stepped closer, took a small flash drive from his pocket, and placed it in her palm.
"If anything happens to me, run this program. It'll make you disappear within ten seconds."
Anna's smile faded.
"You don't plan to lose, do you?"
Laga's face remained unreadable.
"I don't plan for anything. I prepare for everything."
---
South Wastes – Desert Monastery, Abandoned Since 1876
The doors creaked open under Laga's touch.
Dust swirled in the air like tiny ghosts dancing to forgotten hymns.
He walked down the stone hallway, his footsteps echoing softly.
At the altar stood a blind man, wrapped in tattered brown cloth, holding a wooden staff carved with old runes.
"You took your time," the old man said.
Laga bowed slightly. "Time wasn't mine to rush."
The man chuckled. "You sound like him."
"I learned from him."
"Then you also know that you can't win this war."
Laga approached, eyes steady. "I'm not here to win. I'm here to end it."
The old man sighed. "You've grown colder."
Laga's voice dropped.
"They touched Zed."
Silence.
The old man finally turned his head toward Laga, though he could not see.
"So… you've truly awakened."
Laga nodded.
"Then come with me. There's something you need to remember."
---
Hidden Cave Beneath the Monastery
A massive steel door, sealed with twelve locks—each etched in a different lost language—stood before them.
"This chamber," the old man said, "hasn't been opened in a hundred years."
"And it shouldn't be," Laga said.
"But it must," the man replied.
Laga walked forward and pressed his palm against the center lock.
A ripple of energy burst through the cave.
The other locks clicked open one by one.
Inside the chamber, resting on a pedestal of ice, was a black mask—smooth, curved, and expressionless.
Laga's body tensed.
It was his mask.
Not Sanda. Not the face the world saw.
This was the identity buried even deeper.
The one only two people had ever seen: the Blade of the Void.
"Take it," said the old man. "They're using your name now, falsely. They're reviving the Gate in your name."
Laga stepped forward.
His hand hovered over the mask.
Then, slowly, he picked it up.
The ice didn't melt.
The cave didn't shake.
But something deep in the earth did.
---
Meanwhile – Aboard a Private Jet Over Eastern Europe
Kai sat quietly, sharpening a blade that shimmered with dragonstone dust.
Across from him, June was assembling vials of paralyzing powder.
Mei stared out the window, eyes closed, mind already within the city they were flying toward.
They were heading to one of the Council's hidden nodes. Quiet destruction. No survivors.
Ray leaned back, arm resting on his massive war axe.
"We've been asleep for ten years," he muttered. "Feels like nothing changed."
Mei smirked. "Everything changed. We're just seeing it clearly now."
Tom appeared at the door, flipping a tablet in his hand.
"Got the location. We drop in twenty minutes."
Kai looked up. "What did Laga say?"
Tom hesitated.
Then: "He didn't say anything."
The cabin grew silent.
Ray leaned forward. "That means it's serious."
---
Back in Central City – Early Morning
Anna sat at her desk, staring at the encrypted message on her screen.
It was simple.
Two words: "He's moving."
But it was sent from a contact deep in the Council's own shadow network.
And that meant…
They knew.
Anna stood slowly, walked to the window, and looked out at the city below.
Billboards, cars, neon lights, silent streets.
The people had no idea that within the next seven days, a war older than civilization itself would ignite in the alleys between their coffee shops.
She reached for her phone.
"Mara," she said when it connected, "call everyone."
Mara sounded sleepy. "Now?"
"Yes. Tell them the curtain is rising."
---
Final Scene – The Broken Gate Chamber
Deep underground in an unknown country, masked figures stood around a circle of golden runes.
In the center, the black gate stood half-formed—its surface pulsing like a living wound.
A priest-like figure raised a staff.
"Tonight," he whispered, "we summon what Laga buried."
The circle responded: "And we wear his shadow to do it."
But as the chant grew louder, as the gate began to thrum with forgotten power, none of them noticed the figure standing on a nearby ledge—unseen, silent.
Wearing the black mask.
Watching.
Waiting.
Preparing to strike.