The industrial city's fog swallowed the narrow streets. The clatter of old machines echoed from distant factories, while the clock tower loomed at the city's center, standing like a silent sentinel. Its hands were frozen at twelve, as though time itself refused to move.
Frey walked trembling, the pen still clinging to his fingers. Hunter followed behind, silent, his eyes dripping black ink that crawled across the ground. Selene Arkwright appeared within the mist, her long white hair flowing, her silver eyes piercing Frey.
"The clock tower," Selene whispered. "There lies the secret. There the veil opens."
Frey swallowed hard. "What secret?"
Selene smiled faintly, a cracked smile.
"The secret of the pen. The secret of the Chronicle. The secret of yourself."
The whisper echoed in Frey's ears.
"Write the tower. Write the secret."
On the blank sheet that appeared in his hand, Frey wrote:
"I see the old clock tower."
At once, the fog thinned, revealing the ancient tower. Its walls cracked, windows shattered, door creaking. Ancient symbols glowed upon the stone, pulsing like a heart.
Hunter stepped forward, staring at the tower. He did not speak, but his gaze pressed heavily, as if to say: you must enter.
Frey gripped the pen tighter. He knew every word he wrote would reshape this world. He knew every word was disaster. Yet he also knew he could not stop.
He wrote again:
"I enter the clock tower."
The door creaked, mist spilling inside. The chamber was dark, smelling of dust and ink. A spiral staircase rose upward, layered with ancient symbols glowing black. Whispers echoed from every corner, as though the tower itself spoke.
"Each step is a word. Each word is a secret."
Frey climbed slowly, his eyes fixed on the symbols. They pulsed, shifting shape, alive. He felt the tower was not merely a place, but writing itself being born.
Selene followed lightly, as though floating upon the mist. Her voice trembled.
"At the tower's peak, you will see the veil. You will see the world beyond words."
Frey staggered. "I don't want to see…"
Selene drew closer, her fingers dripping ink.
"You have no choice. The pen has chosen you."
Hunter remained silent, staring at the spiral stairs. His presence pressed upon the air, thickening the fog.
The whisper grew louder.
"Write your steps. Write your secret."
With trembling hands, Frey wrote:
"I climb the spiral staircase."
The stairs shook, the ancient symbols glowing brighter. The whispers grew louder, echoing through the tower.
Midway, Frey saw another shadow. A woman stood there, her long black hair flowing, her face blurred by ink. Isolde.
"Isolde…" Frey whispered.
The woman gazed at him, her eyes hollow, filled with ink. Her voice trembled, woven with whispers.
"The secret of the tower is the secret of yourself. You erased me. You will erase yourself."
Tears streamed down Frey's face. "No… I don't want to…"
But the pen pulsed, forcing his hand to write:
"Isolde disappears."
At once, the figure vanished. The symbols glowed brighter, the stairs shook harder.
Frey climbed on, trembling. At the tower's peak, he found a hidden chamber. Its walls layered with ancient symbols, glowing black, pulsing like a heart. At its center stood an altar of ink.
Hunter stepped forward, staring at the altar. He did not speak, but his gaze pressed heavily, as if to say: write your secret.
Selene drew closer, her voice trembling.
"At this altar, you will see the veil. You will see the world beyond words."
With trembling hands, Frey wrote:
"The veil opens."
At once, the chamber shook. The ancient symbols shattered, releasing black light that engulfed the room. From within came visions—the world beyond the veil.
Frey saw another city, shrouded in mist, filled with shadows. He saw beings with blurred faces, their bodies drenched in ink. He saw another altar, another pen, another writer.
The whisper echoed through the chamber.
"You are not the only one. There are many writers. There are many Chronicles. You are but one fragment."
Tears streamed down Frey's face. He knew he was not alone. He knew this Chronicle was larger than himself.
Selene gazed at him, her silver eyes gleaming.
"Now you know. Now you see. But every secret demands a price."
Hunter stood at the altar, silent, staring at Frey. He did not move, but his gaze pressed heavily, as if to say: the next price will be greater.