MASTERS OF THE ETERNITY
CHAPTER 30: The Third Voice
The horns grew louder.
Not the brash, blood-hot call of the Creed, nor the disciplined steel of the Order.
This sound was low, deep enough to stir dust from the stones, as though the bridge itself recognized the note and shivered.
Raian's grip tightened on the Blade. The three Runes along its length flickered, not in unison, but in agitation — each fighting the other for dominance.
"They're not part of this war," Izek muttered, scanning the eastern streets. "I've heard that horn before. Once. It ended a siege in less than a night."
"Who?" Lira asked.
The Pale Twin didn't answer. Her eyes were on the far bank.
---
From the smoke came riders.
Not in ranks, but in a line — nine figures, each draped in layered cloaks of bone-white and slate. Their mounts were pale warbeasts, half-horse, half something older, with horned skull helms bolted to their heads.
Between them hung a standard of black cloth, empty save for a single mark: a circle of seven points, with three lit in gold and four in shadow.
Raian's stomach dropped.
The same pattern he'd just seen burning in the sky.
---
The riders reached the edge of the bridge. None of the sleeping soldiers stirred, though one mount's hoof crushed a man's hand to splinters. No sound but the horn's fading echo.
The lead rider dismounted. Her armor was wrought from linked shards of metal so dark it seemed to eat the torchlight. She removed her helm, revealing a face marked by ink lines that ran from the corners of her eyes down to her jaw, like tears frozen in place.
"Raian," she said, as though they had been in mid-conversation.
He froze. "You know my name."
"I know more than that. I know what you carry. I know what you think it will buy you." She stepped closer, each word steady and unhurried, as if the war around them had been nothing but a prelude to this moment. "And I know how it ends if you reach the Seventh."
---
The Blade pulsed, harder now, the third Rune burning bright enough to sting his vision.
"What are you?" Lira asked, stepping between them.
The woman's eyes flicked to her, then back to Raian. "Not Creed. Not Order. We are the Interveners. We stand only when the balance breaks."
The Pale Twin's hand slid to her dagger. "And you think the balance is broken now?"
The woman smiled faintly. "I think it is shattering. Three Runes awakened… and you've done it faster than any before you. That makes you dangerous — to them, to us, to the world itself."
---
Behind her, the other riders began to move onto the bridge, their pale mounts stepping over bodies without pause. They formed a slow circle, hemming Raian and his companions in.
"You're here for the Blade," Raian said.
"I'm here for what happens if you keep it," she corrected. "And for what hunts you now that you've claimed the third."
"What hunts me?"
Her gaze shifted past him, into the dark sky where the ash had thinned just enough to reveal the outline of something vast, moving between the stars.
"The Fourth," she said simply.
---
The horn sounded again, closer, and the air on the bridge seemed to thin until breathing felt like swallowing glass.
Raian glanced at his companions — Izek ready to swing, Lira's voice trembling on the edge of a spell, the Pale Twin watching with the stillness of a predator about to choose her moment.
The Intervener extended her hand. "Come with us. Learn before you destroy. Or refuse, and watch the Fourth Anchor find you on its own terms."
Raian didn't move.
Somewhere far above, a single fleck of red light blinked in the sky — and blinked back.
TO BE CONTINUED