The Outer Ward trembled around Evin in an uneven rhythm, as though the entire hall had begun breathing. Stone faces shivered. Dust fell like ash. The statues' eyes seemed to follow him, their expressions shifting subtly when he wasn't looking.
Evin pressed himself against one of the pillars, forcing air into his lungs.
The Veil pressed back.
Shadows rippled under his skin, crawling upward like black veins. His vision warped. He blinked hard — the statues returned to stillness.
The quiet broke.
Boots slammed against marble in perfect unison. Six Inquisitors stormed into the Ward, their formation sharp, their movements precise. Armor etched with harsh scripture caught what little light remained.
Voidsteel weapons glowed with a faint blue radiance — a sickening contrast to the dark mist curling from Evin's body.
The lead Inquisitor's voice rang out like a command bell:
"Target acquired. Breach must be neutralized."
Neutralized.
Not captured.
Not contained.
Destroyed.
Evin stumbled backward. "I don't want to hurt anyone—"
But his shadow moved first.
It ripped from his feet like a living spear, striking the closest Inquisitor and sending him flying backward into a row of statues. Stone cracked. Marble shattered. The man did not rise.
"I–I didn't do that," Evin whispered.
But he had.
He felt it in his bones.
The next Inquisitor lunged at him — blade first, no hesitation. Evin tried to dodge, but the Veil surged, reacting instinctively. The air around him distorted, and a column of shadow snapped upward, deflecting the blade with a shriek of metal bending under unnatural force.
The Inquisitor slid back, boots scraping.
Another advanced, swinging a hook etched with runes. As the weapon sliced through the air, Evin felt every remnant inside him recoil violently. The pain hit like a shockwave — he collapsed to one knee, clutching his chest, gasping as though someone had ripped breath from his lungs.
The weapon hadn't touched him.
It didn't need to.
Voidsteel disrupted the Veil just by being near.
His vision swam.
Voices whispered at the edges of hearing — not the Inquisitors.
Remnants.
Pull back—
run—
danger—
danger—
The echoes pressed into his skull, frantic and terrified.
Evin forced himself upright. "Please… stay back…"
But they didn't.
The Inquisitors paused only when the statues behind Evin began to stir.
A hand twitched.
A head tilted.
A faint grinding noise rasped through the chamber.
One of the statues leaned forward.
Then another.
Then another.
The Inquisitors turned, weapons raised, eyes wide behind their helms.
The remnants inside the stone were waking.
And they were not waking peacefully.
Evin's heartbeat thundered.
"No—stop—please—stop!"
He pushed against the Veil with everything he had — trying to contain it, soothe it, control it — but the remnants didn't listen. Not anymore. Not after everything that had been taken from them.
They wanted out.
A statue's cracked arm swung with unnatural force, sending an Inquisitor stumbling. Another statue jerked forward with a sound like splintering wood. The Inquisitors fought back, voidsteel flashing, chanting under their breath — but the air was too thick with memory, too heavy with remnants pressing for release.
Evin could barely stand.
His legs trembled.
His breath hitched.
His pulse stuttered.
The shadows around him lashed and recoiled in confused, frantic bursts.
"Please," he whispered to the Veil, "let me breathe—let me be—"
The Veil didn't answer.
It only pulsed.
The next moment, an Inquisitor broke formation and charged directly at Evin. His blade arced downward in a clean, lethal strike —
— and a statue intercepted it.
Not gracefully.
Not skillfully.
Desperately.
Stone fingers closed around the blade, cracking at the joints. The Inquisitor wrenched free, but the statue's other arm clamped down around his torso, locking him in place.
The sound that followed wasn't a scream.
It was worse.
The Inquisitor's breath left him in a broken gasp as the statue's grip tightened.
There was a muffled crunch.
And then he fell still.
Evin reeled back, eyes wide with horror.
He didn't want this.
He didn't want any of it.
"STOP!" he shouted.
The Veil surged at the command — not receding, but erupting outward.
A wave of shadow burst from him, sweeping through the Ward. Torches extinguished. Statues jerked back to stillness. The remaining Inquisitors were thrown to the edge of the hall, slamming into pillars with thuds that echoed like distant thunder.
Evin trembled violently, hands shaking uncontrollably.
He did not pass out.
He couldn't.
The Veil wouldn't let him.
He was forced to stand in the aftermath, chest heaving, eyes burning.
One Inquisitor — only one — managed to rise, gripping his sword with white knuckles. He staggered forward, raising the blade in a shaking hand.
"You… are… an abomination," he rasped.
Evin lifted his head slowly.
His shadow rose behind him, towering, trembling, shifting like a creature forced into form.
His voice cracked when he spoke:
"I never… wanted this."
The Inquisitor charged.
Evin didn't see what happened next.
He felt it.
The Veil reacted, swift and silent.
When he opened his eyes, the Inquisitor lay unconscious on the floor.
Evin didn't know if he was dead.
He didn't want to know.
He stumbled toward the fissure cracked open in the floor, shadows tugging at him, remnants whispering warnings and fears.
He didn't look back.
He couldn't.
But as he crossed into the narrow passage beyond the Ward,
a single whisper chased him —
not from a statue, not from a remnant, but from the Veil inside him:
"We only protect what remains."
Evin shivered.
And kept walking.