The speaker was waiting when I returned.
They stood in the same place as before, hands folded, head tilted as though studying a painting. Only the faint glow of the veins in the walls lit the chamber, casting their mask in green shadows.
"You marked it," they said. No greeting. No question.
I said nothing.
Their masked face turned slightly. "The wound will not heal. Not quickly. That makes you… valuable."
I stepped closer. "You sent me down there knowing it could kill me."
The speaker's voice was calm, but not without weight. "If it killed you, you were too weak to be worth keeping. If it did not… you return with proof."
"What proof?" I asked.
They raised a finger and pointed to my hand. I looked down. Thin, glowing threads pulsed faintly along my veins—not blood, not light, but something in between.
"You carry a Vein's touch now," the Speaker said. "It will fade in time unless you choose to make the binding permanent."
I frowned. "Binding?"
"The act of joining yourself to the Veins. It gives you strength. Sight beyond sight. But it takes something in return."
"What does it take?"
"That depends on what you're willing to lose," the Speaker replied. "Most offer flesh. Others offer memories. Some… offer pieces of their soul."
The Nameless God's whisper slid into my thoughts. They make it sound cleaner than it is. What they don't tell you is that the Veins never stop taking.
I ignored it. "And if I say no?"
The speaker tilted their head. "Then the mark fades, and you leave this place as you came. But the city will smell you. It will remember. And it will send worse things than roots to claim you."
I thought of the mound's roar, the eyes of the bodies buried in its flesh. "Why would I want to join myself to something like that?"
"Because," the Speaker said, stepping forward, "the only other choice is to let those who hold the Veins rule you—as they rule the city above. You've seen what that rule looks like, haven't you?"
The image flashed without warning—her face, pale under the torchlight, her scream cut short when the chains pulled tight. Her parents were watching, not with grief, but with pride.
I swallowed. "I've seen it."
"Then you understand," the Speaker said. "If you want to move freely, if you want to strike them down, you'll need more than a blade. You'll need the city itself to fear your name."
The Nameless God chuckled softly. And here I thought you only needed me.
I met the Speaker's gaze—or the mask's empty eyeholes. "What does binding involve?"
"A ritual," they said. "One that will change you. What you gain will depend on the Vein you claim. Choose poorly, and you will regret it. Choose well…" They let the sentence hang.
I kept my voice steady. "And if I already have something else inside me?"
For the first time, the Speaker paused. "…Then the Binding will be dangerous. More dangerous than it already is."
They stepped back. "Think carefully, Kaelen. If you agree, you'll take the first step toward becoming Veinbound. If not… you walk away. No second chances."
The Nameless God's voice was sharper now. Say yes. I'll handle the rest.
I didn't answer either of them. Not yet.