MASTERS OF THE ETERNITY
CHAPTER 28: The Assembly's Gate
The ridge trail beyond the fallen Assembly fighters was narrow enough that a single misstep meant a long fall into jagged ruin. The storm overhead — if it could be called a storm — spiraled without sound, a bruise blooming across the sky. No wind, no thunder. Just pressure.
Raian kept his eyes forward. The Blade's pulsing symbols flared every so often, and when they did, the air felt thinner, as though something ahead was drawing the breath from the world.
No one spoke for a while.
Finally, Lira's voice broke the silence.
> "It's different from the first time, isn't it?"
Raian glanced at her.
"The Breath's Edge felt… old. Like it had been waiting for us."
She nodded. "This feels like it doesn't want us here at all."
The Pale Twin walked with her hood shadowing her face, but her voice carried easily.
> "Anchors are not all the same. The first you saw was an opening. The next will be a lock. And locks… are meant to be defended."
---
By late afternoon, the path ended at a plateau. From here, the land fell away into a vast basin, its edges lined with the same black shards embedded in the Assembly's armor. But these were larger — monolith-sized — and arranged in a wide circle, as though outlining some ancient arena.
At the center stood a structure unlike anything Raian had seen. Not stone. Not metal. It looked grown — an interwoven lattice of bone-white material, twisting upward like roots clawing at the air. Inside its hollow core, a faint blue glow pulsed at a slow, deliberate rhythm.
Izek exhaled sharply. "That's it."
The Pale Twin didn't take her eyes from the glow. "The Anchor. And if I'm right… the Second Rune."
---
They began their descent into the basin, moving along a narrow switchback path. The closer they came to the circle of shards, the more the world changed. Sound dulled. The crunch of gravel under their boots became muffled, as if the ground was wrapped in thick cloth. Even their breathing seemed quieter.
When they passed between two of the towering shards, Raian felt a sharp sting at the base of his neck, like a needle piercing skin. He turned, expecting to see an attacker — but there was nothing. Only the shard, its black surface swirling faintly, reflecting him back in distorted fragments.
Lira shivered. "These aren't just markers. They're… watching us."
---
They stepped into the arena. The instant they crossed its inner threshold, the blue glow in the Anchor's core flared — and the Silent Assembly appeared.
Not from the ridge. Not from the shadows. They stepped through the shards themselves, as if walking out of another reality. Their armor was different this time — more uniform, each helm adorned with a jagged crest, each weapon lined with glowing fractures.
One figure stepped forward, taller than the rest, his presence so heavy it seemed to bend the air around him. His voice was deep, layered, as if two people spoke at once.
> "You've come for the Second Breath."
Raian raised the Blade, feeling the symbols flare under his fingers. "We came for what's ours."
The tall figure tilted his head. "It was never yours. But you may earn it — if you survive."
---
The Assembly attacked as one. Their formation wasn't chaotic — it was surgical. Raian found himself cut off from the others within seconds, each blow meant to isolate him. The Blade's hum clashed violently with the resonance of their weapons, each impact throwing a shudder through his bones.
Izek fought like a storm contained in human form, hammering through shields and splintering weapons. Lira stood behind him, her voice weaving strange tones that bent the space around her, making enemy strikes falter mid-swing. The Pale Twin moved through the battlefield like smoke, her dagger finding the seams in armor where the black shards pulsed.
But the tall figure did not move. He watched. Studying. Waiting.
---
Raian knew he wouldn't reach the Anchor unless the figure was dealt with. He broke through the press of fighters, the Blade carving a golden arc through the air. Sparks of light scattered where crystal met steel.
The tall figure finally drew his weapon — not a sword, but a long, double-edged glaive, its shaft wrapped in leather darkened by age. He swung once, and the force of it drove Raian back three steps, boots carving grooves into the basin floor.
> "This is not your path," the figure said.
"Then I'll make it mine."
They clashed. The glaive moved like it was part of him, each strike flowing into the next. Raian parried, dodged, countered, but each block felt like it cost him a fraction of himself. The symbols on the Blade pulsed faster, almost frantic.
---
Somewhere behind him, he heard Lira scream his name. Izek roared. The Pale Twin's voice cut sharp through the air:
> "The Anchor! Strike the Anchor!"
Raian realized then — the fight wasn't about killing him. It was about keeping him from the Anchor long enough for something else to happen.
He broke from the duel, sprinting toward the bone-white structure. The tall figure moved to intercept, but Izek slammed into him with enough force to crack the glaive's shaft.
Raian reached the Anchor. The glow within it seemed to flare in recognition. He drove the Blade forward — and the world shattered.
---
Light exploded outward, not blinding but absolute, erasing shadow and sound. For an instant, Raian stood in a space without ground or sky, the Blade before him, and seven symbols burning in a perfect circle. Two flared brighter than the rest. The Second Rune.
A voice — not the Blade's, not his own — whispered through the void:
> One step closer to the choice that cannot be unmade.
When the light receded, the Anchor was gone. The Silent Assembly lay scattered, their bodies fading into nothing, the shards around the arena now dull and lifeless. The storm overhead unraveled into a pale, cold sky.
Raian looked at the Blade. A second symbol now glowed beside the first.
The Pale Twin approached, her expression unreadable. "Two Runes… and already the air smells of war."
Raian looked toward the horizon. Far off, beyond the basin's edge, columns of smoke rose into the sky. The war was no longer creeping toward them. It was here.
> "Then we don't stop," he said. "We find the next one before they do."
And they set out again, the weight of silent roads still pressing on their backs.
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TO BE CONTINUED