The sound was barely audible at first—a low, thrumming hum, like a heartbeat from a dying world.
Deep within the wastelands of the Hollow Expanse, far from the civilized cities and safe zones, an ancient citadel pulsed with forbidden energy. Black spires clawed into the sky like the bones of a god long forgotten. At the center of it all stood the Choir Chamber, cold, vast, and alive with whispers.
Varn knelt before the masked figure, still nursing his wounds.
"You summoned them?" he asked, barely masking his unease.
The figure turned, their porcelain mask smiling eternally.
"I didn't need to. They've been waiting. This world has forgotten what fear sounds like. It's time to remind them."
With a wave of their hand, the chamber's torches ignited, casting eerie shadows across the floor. One by one, cloaked figures began to emerge from the darkness, each with a distinct aura that bent the very air around them.
Seven of them.
The Obsidian Choir.
Each One, a Calamity
The first to step forward was draped in chains—Maelis, the Dissonant One. She could unravel energy, severing a person's core from their abilities with a whisper. Her voice could shatter minds, her presence a cacophony of cursed vibrations.
Next came Raive the Hollow, a tall man with no visible face, just a pulsating orb where his head should be. He was a void user his presence consumed light, thought, and memory. Where he walked, the world forgot itself.
The third was Nyxen, cloaked in mist, his body leaking shadow-like steam. He controlled reversal entropy, the decay and undoing of natural order. He could age a building a thousand years in a heartbeat or reverse a wound until it was never inflicted.
Then Veyra, the Crimson Seer, barefoot, blindfolded, her skin marked with glowing runes. She saw possibilities, futures, and collapses. Not just the future… but which one hurt most.
The last three were not named—not yet. They stood silent, still, and terrible.
The masked leader stepped between them.
"The pieces are moving. The storm girl has awakened. And with her, he draws closer."
Varn spat blood onto the floor. "Kael. He's stronger than we expected."
"No. He's remembering."
The Choir remained silent, but the temperature of the room dropped. The idea of Kael regaining what he once was, it sent a ripple through even these monsters.
"We strike the Academy next," the leader said. "The next generation must break before they rise."
Maelis cracked her neck. "About time. I miss the sound of screaming halls."
Back at Solaire City
Kael sat on the edge of the rooftop, overlooking the skyline. The city was calm, a fragile lie held together by routine and ignorance.
Sera leaned against the ledge beside him, arms crossed. She hadn't spoken much since her awakening. She didn't need to, her presence said enough.
Lira approached them, holding three small glass chips.
> "Memory shards," she said. "Recovered from Site Epsilon's data core. It's not much, but… it shows how they tortured her."
Kael took one, turning it over in his hand. The moment his fingers touched it, he felt the echo.
Screams. Needles. White rooms. Sera's voice, raw with pain.
He clenched his fist.
"We end this," he said.
Sera's voice was soft, but sharp. "You're not ready."
Kael glanced at her. "Then help me be."
Training Begins
The next week was brutal. Sera didn't train like a teacher—she trained like a weapon retracing its edge. Every lesson was a storm, every sparring match a battle of attrition. Kael was fast, lethal even but Sera's power bent rules. She forced him to unlearn instincts, to think outside motion, to predict reactions rather than moves.
Lira joined too. Her control over momentum had improved. She could now redirect force through surfaces, flipping walls into weapons, ceilings into trampolines, even launching Kael mid-air with a foot tap.
They were becoming something more.
Not soldiers. Not rebels.
A trio forged by wrath and fate.
Elsewhere…
A messenger ran down a stone hallway. He burst into a hidden library carved from mountain rock.
Inside sat an old man in crimson robes, sipping tea with a golden staff resting against the wall beside him.
> "Master Zael," the boy panted, "they've activated the Choir."
The old man paused. He placed the cup down gently.
"Then the Voidborn child is no longer dormant."
He stood, eyes gleaming with untold power.
"Gather the Warden Council. The sky will bleed again… and I'd like to watch it properly."