The wind in the southern cliffs carried more than dust that night.
It carried voices.
Velan knelt beneath the flame tree where his mother once whispered lullabies to him. He barely remembered her face, but he remembered the stories — stories of stars that had names, of beasts that guarded the night, of flames that could not be seen.
He'd come here to think.
But thinking no longer brought clarity — only weight.
In his hand, he held the map from the Guardian's scroll. Five ancient locations. Five buried clan secrets. One of them was circled.
> Maayan.
The Sealed Prince.
Velan whispered the name.
And the world answered.
The mark at his collarbone blazed like fire for the first time — not a glow, not a pulse — but a flare. It licked across his shoulder and up his neck, spreading ink-black lines under the skin like a burning serpent awakening from sleep.
Velan gasped, collapsing to his knees.
Anaiyaal's voice surged within him, stronger than ever before.
> "You should not have spoken his name."
> "Names hold weight in this world, Velan. His… opens doors."
> "Now something has heard you."
From the dark forest around him, the leaves suddenly stilled. No wind. No insects. Just silence.
Then — a sound.
Not from earth. Not from sky.
From beneath.
Cracking.
Like stone being broken under the skin of the world.
---
⚔️ Suddenly—
The ground erupted.
A claw — skeletal, ash-colored, wrapped in burning threads of green light — burst from the soil. Then a second. Then a hunched figure dragged itself free from a burial mound unmarked by any shrine.
Velan leapt back, summoning his stance — Four-Intent Step. But his footing slipped.
The figure rose.
Not Maayan. Not yet.
But a Servant of the Sealed Prince — one of the Ashbound, forged from ancient curses and bound souls. It had no eyes. No tongue. Just a symbol carved across its face: 亡 — death.
The creature charged.
Velan moved — ducked, pivoted, feinted.
He struck its chest, only to have his palm sink into ash.
It reformed behind him instantly.
This wasn't a fight. It was a message.
Anaiyaal growled inside his head.
> "This is only a fragment of what waits below."
> "You cannot fight ash with flame alone."
> "Use me."
Velan hesitated.
He had resisted using Anaiyaal's full system interface. Afraid of what it might cost. Afraid of becoming someone else.
But now?
He had no choice.
> "Unlock—Anaiyaal Echo State."
The air rippled.
The shadow around his body bent inward.
Velan's eyes turned black — no whites, no iris, just void.
His heartbeat vanished. His breathing stilled.
The Ashbound rushed again.
This time, Velan moved through it.
One palm. One step. One intent — sever the soul.
The technique shattered the creature's form. The ash crumbled. The green light screamed and fizzled like steam.
Silence.
Velan dropped to one knee, gasping.
The Echo State faded.
But he didn't rise yet.
He reached into the ash pile and pulled free a small shard of obsidian — carved with Maayan's symbol.
> A fragment of the seal.
---
🌒 Elsewhere… in the crypt city beneath the Sealed Tombs
Dozens of shadowed figures bowed in a cavern lit with ghostfire.
The largest coffin stood cracked, green smoke spilling from it.
Inside, Maayan stirred.
"Velan…" he whispered, voice like silk dragged over knives.
> "The boy who bears the mark but fears the crown."
A skeletal priest leaned close. "Shall we begin the Rite of Emergence, my prince?"
Maayan's grin widened.
> "Not yet. Let him gather strength."
"Let him think he has a choice."
"And then... I'll take everything."
---
End of Chapter 9