Part 2 — Echoes Beneath the Skin
The dream did not fade.
Lucius tried to shake it off as he stepped out of the tavern, but it clung to him like a second shadow. The warmth of the morning sun did little to chase away the chill in his bones. Even the familiar sounds of Ravenwall—the clatter of carts, the laughter of children, the distant ring of a hammer against steel—felt muted, as if the world had been wrapped in thick cloth.
He paused in the street, fingers tightening around the basket he carried.
The whisper returned.
Not loud. Not clear.
But unmistakably present.
Lucius pressed his palm against his chest. The pulse was gone now, but the echo of it lingered, a dull pressure beneath his ribs. It reminded him of something coiled tightly, restrained by invisible chains.
You're imagining it, he told himself.
He always did.
Ever since he was a child, there had been moments—brief, frightening moments—when his emotions ran too high and strange things happened. A cracked table mended itself when he slammed his fist into it. A bully was thrown backward without Lucius touching him. Once, during a fever, the air around his bed had shimmered like heat above a forge.
His mother had warned him to stay calm.
"Power listens to emotion," she used to say, brushing his hair back with gentle fingers. "And you have too much of it sleeping inside you."
She never explained what she meant.
She never lived long enough to.
Lucius shook the memory away and continued walking.
---
At the edge of town, the Mercenary Guild Hall stood like a scarred beast—stone walls chipped and cracked from decades of conflict, banners faded by sun and blood. Adventurers, soldiers, hunters, and sellswords passed in and out, some boasting fresh scars, others dragging exhaustion behind them like a cloak.
Jak leaned against the entrance, arms crossed, massive frame blocking half the doorway.
"Thought you'd be here," he said when he saw Lucius.
Lucius raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess. Lucy sensed something."
Jak grunted. "She didn't say it. Didn't have to."
Inside, the guild hall buzzed with noise. Quests were being posted. Coin exchanged hands. Arguments erupted over contract terms. The smell of sweat, steel, and ale clung to everything.
Lucy stood near the central board, her brow furrowed as she read a freshly pinned notice. Mike hovered behind her, chewing on a piece of dried meat.
Lucius approached. "What is it?"
Lucy turned, her expression unusually serious. "A high-priority notice. Came in less than an hour ago."
She stepped aside so Lucius could read it.
---
EMERGENCY NOTICE — BLACK PRIORITY
Location: Western Verdant Forest
Incident: Complete mercenary squad annihilation
Cause: Suspected Abyss Rift
Survivors: None confirmed
Threat Level: Unknown
Warning: Avoid region until further notice.
High compensation offered for investigation and confirmation.
---
Lucius felt his stomach tighten.
Western Verdant Forest.
That was the forest from his dream.
Mike whistled low. "Whole squad wiped? That's not normal."
Jak nodded grimly. "Veteran squad too. I recognize the insignia."
Lucius's ears rang faintly.
Images flashed in his mind—black tearing open the sky, bone-white creatures, screams.
His grip tightened on the edge of the board hard enough to make the wood creak.
Lucy noticed. "Lucius?"
He forced himself to breathe. "I dreamed about it."
Silence fell between them.
Mike blinked. "You dreamed… about this?"
"Not exactly this," Lucius said slowly. "But a forest. A tear in the air. People dying."
Jak straightened. "That's not coincidence."
Lucy's eyes darkened. "Spirit dreams tied to real events only happen when—"
She stopped.
Lucius looked at her. "When what?"
"When someone is connected to the source."
No one spoke after that.
---
Far away, in the heart of the Dragonia Empire, marble corridors echoed with soft footsteps.
The Imperial Palace rose like a dragon's spine from the capital, its towers curved and scaled, its banners emblazoned with crimson sigils of flame and claw. Nobles whispered behind gilded doors. Knights stood at rigid attention, their armor etched with ancient runes.
In a high chamber overlooking the city, a man stood alone.
Valen Dragonia, First Prince of the Empire.
His hair was silver-blond, pulled back neatly. His eyes were sharp, calculating, the color of molten gold—a mark of dragon blood purity. He wore no crown, yet the air around him bent subtly, acknowledging his authority.
A kneeling figure bowed before him, cloaked in black.
"The fourth prince is confirmed dead," the figure said. "The fifth… disappeared as planned."
Valen did not turn. He stared out over the capital, fingers resting lightly against the stone railing.
"Good," he said calmly. "Make sure their deaths remain… ambiguous."
"Yes, Your Highness."
A pause.
"There is another matter," the figure continued carefully. "An Abyss rift manifested earlier than expected. Western Verdant Forest."
Valen's lips curved faintly.
"So soon?" he murmured. "The gods grow impatient."
"The Apostolic Order has noticed the surge."
"Let them," Valen said. "They are blind to what truly matters."
He raised his hand.
For a moment, shadows gathered around his fingers, writhing unnaturally before retreating.
"The Abyss worshippers were not involved?" he asked.
"No. This appears… spontaneous."
Valen exhaled slowly.
"Then destiny stirs."
He turned at last, his gaze cold and distant.
"Find out who survives the aftermath. Anyone who resonates with the rift."
"Yes, Your Highness."
The figure vanished into shadow.
Valen stood alone once more.
A whisper brushed his mind, smooth and commanding.
"You are chosen."
He clenched his fist.
"I will be king," he said quietly. "Of empires… or of gods themselves."
---
Back in Ravenwall, the guild hall emptied gradually as word spread.
Most adventurers avoided black-priority notices. Abyss rifts were unpredictable. Deadly. Worse—corrupting.
Lucius stood outside, staring at the road that led west.
Lucy joined him. "You don't have to go."
He smiled faintly. "You know that's not true."
Jak cracked his knuckles. "If you're going, I'm going."
Mike slung his lute over his shoulder. "Someone needs to make sure we're remembered if we die horribly."
Lucy sighed. "I swear, all of you are insane."
She looked at Lucius then, truly looked at him.
"Whatever you are," she said softly, "whatever's waking up inside you… this is where it starts."
Lucius nodded.
The whisper returned.
Not from the Abyss.
Not from the gods.
But from his own blood.
Move forward.
And so he did.
Unaware that with each step toward the forest, the chains of the gods trembled.