The words didn't echo. They didn't need to.
They were already inside me.
"Who the hell are you?" I asked, my voice low, hand hovering near my dagger.
Not that I thought steel would do anything here.
The crimson figure didn't move. The glow beneath the hood pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat.
"A messenger."
The water rippled under its feet, yet it didn't sink.
My Core twisted in my chest.
It knows my name.
I didn't answer. Couldn't.
It didn't feel like I was standing in front of something alive—it felt like I was facing a concept. A role. A memory wearing a robe.
"You've been watching me?"
"Watching? No. Listening."
The hum from earlier returned, faint, like it was bleeding through the water from some unreachable place. Dozens of voices, chanting. I could almost make out the words this time. Almost.
"Every Whisper has a beginning. Most end before they take shape. You, however…" The figure's hood tilted. "…survived your first Call."
My grip on the dagger tightened. "That thing—the Shepherd—it wanted to drag me out of existence. Why?"
The glow dimmed.
"Names are currency. Yours is… unclaimed. And hungry."
Something in the water shifted. A faint ripple.
Then another.
I glanced down—my reflection was gone.
The ripple kept widening.
No reflection. No shadow. Just black water.
"You took it," the figure said softly.
"...Took what?"
"The first Whisper."
Their voice had no emotion—yet somehow it felt like amusement.
"You let it inside, and it didn't break you. That makes you… dangerous."
"I didn't let anything inside," I said. "It just—"
The hum surged.
Every hair on my body stood on end.
"Denial." The figure stepped closer. "Good. That means you're still human."
The water below my feet froze solid in a perfect circle. I felt the cold bite through my boots.
"Do you want to know the truth of your Name, Riven Kael?"
Something deep in my Core pulsed. My heartbeat faltered for half a second.
"…What's the price?" I asked.
The crimson figure tilted their head, like they were studying a specimen.
"A piece of yourself you won't get back."
The frozen circle beneath me cracked. Thin fissures spiderwebbed out toward the black water.
I didn't know what would happen if I fell in—
But for some reason… part of me wanted to.
The cracks widened.
The frozen circle groaned under my weight.
"Decide," the figure whispered. "Or the Veil decides for you."
My instincts screamed to step back—
But my Core… my Core leaned forward.
The Whisper inside me pulsed again, like a heartbeat out of sync with my own. My vision flickered—one frame reality, the next an ocean of red constellations swirling in the dark.
"I don't trust you," I said.
"Good."
A single black feather fell from above. It landed on the ice between us… and burned a perfect hole through it. Steam rose from the gap.
"Step in, Riven Kael… and you'll understand why your death will not be yours alone."
I clenched my jaw.
"Not today."
The figure stared at me for a moment—then smiled. It was small, but in that silence it was deafening.
"Then run."
The ice shattered. The black water rushed up like a living thing, pulling at my ankles. I broke into a sprint across the collapsing surface, the hum behind me rising into a deafening roar.
I didn't look back.
If I did… I knew I wouldn't leave.
The roar faded.
When I finally stumbled off the last stretch of ice, I hit solid ground so hard my knees buckled.
I stayed there, chest heaving, waiting for the cold to fade.
It didn't.
The air was still sharp, like breathing knives. The ground under my palms was black stone, slick with frost. I looked up—
No sky. Just a dome of crimson fog pressing down, turning every sound into a muffled echo.
The circle… it was gone. So was the figure.
But something else had followed me.
It whispered—not in words this time, but in intent. A sensation that wrapped around my ribs and pulled, urging me deeper into the fog.
I took one step forward, and the stone beneath me pulsed.
A pattern flared to life—rings inside rings, lines intersecting in jagged symmetry. I didn't know the language, but my Core reacted instantly. The hum returned, but sharper, drilling into my bones.
"...This isn't over, is it?" I muttered.
No answer.
Just a faint, distant sound.
Like metal on stone.
A chain being dragged toward me.
The sound grew heavier.
Each drag of the chain scraped through the fog, too slow to be urgent, too steady to be careless.
I squinted, but the crimson haze swallowed everything past a few meters. My Core's hum was in sync with it now—one pulse for each step the thing took.
And then it spoke.
Not in my head. Not like the Whisper.
This was a voice.
Low. Metallic.
"...Unmarked."
I froze.
The chain rattled once, sharp and final, before the fog parted—just enough to show a silhouette.
Tall. Lean. Masked.
The mask was smooth, faceless, save for a vertical slit glowing faint blue.
It tilted its head at me.
"You're not supposed to be here."
My mouth was dry. "Guess that makes two of us."
It stepped closer, the chain coiling around its arm like a living thing.
And then I noticed—each link was etched with the same jagged script from the ground beneath me.
It stopped a few feet away, the chain tip still dragging.
Its voice dropped lower.
"Either you walk out now… or you wear the chain."
The hum inside my Core spiked—like it was laughing.
The hum inside me sharpened, turning into a blade's edge.
The thing's words weren't just a threat—they were an invitation.
"I'm not walking out," I said.
The mask tilted again, and the chain lifted, curling in the air like a serpent ready to strike.
No warning.
It snapped forward.
I twisted, barely dodging as the chain's tip carved into the ground where I'd been standing—
and the runes beneath it lit up.
A shockwave of red mist exploded outward, cutting my vision to nothing.
The chain whipped again, but this time I caught it—my fingers burning instantly as the etched runes bit into my skin.
I gritted my teeth, my Core roaring in response.
Blue light flared from the mask's slit.
The voice returned, colder than before.
"…Marked."
The chain recoiled like it had a mind of its own, snapping back to its master. I glanced at my palm—
a single glowing rune was now burned into my skin.
The figure stepped back into the mist.
"Next time… the chain closes."
And then it was gone.
The hum in my Core faded, but something else lingered—
that rune on my palm was still warm.
And I had the feeling it wasn't going away.