The dense forest of Southlake, in Thirstfall, closes in on my vision like a maze of trunks and wet shadows. Treacherous roots want my ankle; low branches rake my face in the cold night.
My ankle throbs.
Was I hit? Damn it. Eight years hunting the Aion Codex, and the moment I finally get my hands on it, they ambush me.
I run blind, guided by my own ragged breathing and the noise of beasts I really don't want to meet tonight. The Codex seems to double in weight with every stride.
I glance back twice: I see no one.
But I'm not alone.
Someone watched me. This wasn't chance. My maps, my questions, and my nights at the Cold Vault—leaked.
A specific name rises in my throat like bile:
Rae.
He was the only one who knew my route today. The only one.
I shake my head violently as I run, trying to dislodge the thought.
No. Impossible. We survived the Trench together. He wouldn't sell me out. Not for this.
A tree to the left detonates into splinters, licked by blue spirit flame. Another streaks across the dark like a missile, leaving a cold whistle behind.
Blue fire.
My heart skips a beat, not from exertion, but from recognition. That specific hue... that mana signature…
It can't be.
My attention snaps back to the present when the ground groans and ripples in waves—pressomancy. Pressure vibrations shove me sideways like a mini-quake; my shoulder slams a trunk strong enough to spit blood in my mouth.
The enchanted oak Codex slips, and I snatch it back without thinking.
[HUD] OXI: 33% (draining).
I need to reach an Oathmark before I become a statistic.
I cut down a bank, skid three feet, and get traction back. The magic blasts now come lower and tighter. My heartbeat drums in my ears.
A clearing opens—a pale circle under the canopy. Carved stones sketch the Oathmark, the portal live, its rim trembling with energy.
Footfalls close in behind, a full sprint. I feel one of them right on me, snorting.
I don't look back. I trigger my talent: Flow Cartographer. Route lines bloom—across the ground, up the trunks, in the air itself. Pressure points, ideal swing, stride angles—the best line to the Oathmark.
Useless in a duel. Unbeatable on a path.
[HUD] OXI: 32%… 31% (accelerated drain—talent active).
I pull the Reentry Pearl from my inventory. It hums, ice-cold in my hand.
A warning flashes in the corner:
[HUD] Warning: Activating Pearl consumes -30% of MAX OXI.
Two more steps.
One more.
The Oathmark's energy brushes my lead foot. My body turns weightless. The monoliths crackle, a rune flares red, and someone behind me yelps. The smell of ozone shifts.
I throw myself backward toward the portal and hit the Pearl midair.
The Aion Codex burns against my chest, sensing the shift
[HUD] Relic Interaction: Soul Bind? (Y/N)
My thumb smashes the prompt instantly.
An archer with three parallel notches on his vest fires. The arrow streaks toward the bridge of my nose, filling my vision.
I don't even have time to blink.
The light opens from the inside, like a valve giving way.
[HUD] Crossing: −30% of MAX OXI applied.
The arrowhead is an inch from my pupil when the world gets eaten by a flash.
The tank's foam floods my throat before the memory ends. I open my eyes inside the liquid and grab at nothing, trying to catch an arrow that isn't there.
I rip the mouthpiece out with both hands and cough until my chest burns. The white ceiling shivers; the lights sting.
"Through your nose. Slow." The voice is close. Firm hands pin my shoulders; sensors peel off old scars; the tank's tray glides out. I slide onto a metal cart, grab a towel, and wait for the chill to leave the bone.
"Pressure holding," someone reports to no one.
"All good," I manage, still breathless. I spit, sip air, and let the world line up. "Back on Earth at last. Thought Thirstfall would keep my soul this time."
The stale air of the life-support clinic fills my lungs. Row after row of Clinical Submersion Tanks make the place look like a lab. I'm not the first, and I won't be the last to live in a world split in two.
Paperwork, pen, crooked signature. I take some disposable scrubs and beat-up sneakers from a locker. The hallway throws back the squeal of a bad wheel, a gurney carrying bodies that didn't return. Luckily, I'm not one of them today.
I shut my eyes for a second, and the clock lights up on its own:
[HUD] 95:51:09.
Four days. That's how long the world gives you to remember why you want to keep living.
I take the stairs before anyone traps me in small talk.
The street greets me with honks and hot dust. "The planet's dying, and I'm the one paying the bill." No warm welcome. No hug. I almost died, and the world doesn't care—almost the whole population is compromised.
I ride the subway on autopilot, hop off a stop early out of impatience, and walk. Lili's birthday present knocks against my backpack with every step: a rainbow-metal bracelet, brought back from Thirstfall. Ten years in and out, finally something decent for her.
I picture my mother seeing me open the door—startled, then smiling, then hugging me.
Same building, smaller than I remember. The gate sticks; I jiggle it, and it gives. Two flights of stairs. Burned-out bulbs stuck where they've always been.
The key fights the lock—an intimate reminder of how broke we are. A dumb thought flickers—need to oil this—right before the iron smell hits.
Sweet and metallic. Home and hospital mixed. The hallway stretches. The apartment is too dark. A silence that isn't natural.
"Mom?" My voice doesn't come out the way I meant. "Lili?"
The living room swallows me whole. The curtain is tapping the glass. The TV is frozen on a local newscast, mute. My mother's coffee cup untouched, a thin film on top.
And then… the floor.
My life turns into a blurred photograph where only the red stays sharp.
The real world is crueler because no "HP zero" pops up. Here it's a body on cold tile.
My mother first: eyes open, head twisted at an odd angle, one hand reaching for the phone. My sister is a few feet away. Chocolate at the corner of her mouth, mixed with the wrong red, still wet—as if it were the last sweet thing in the world.
My knees give out. I hit the floor hard, the shock vibrating through my bones.
Whatever was left of my mind simply... breaks.
I say stupid things.
"Easy. It'll pass."
"It's me."
"Stay."
"Please."
I fight the tears with everything I have—and lose.
My hands move on their own. Wrist. Neck. Searching for a pulse. A flutter. Anything.
Nothing.
Amidst the despair and the questions, I wipe my eyes roughly with the edge of my sleeve.
That's when I see it.
My eyes catch something on the wall, just above the baseboard.
Small. Deliberate.
Three parallel notches carved into the plaster.
The tears stop instantly. The air in the room shifts from tragic to suffocating.
A robbery implies chaos. A robbery is random.
This...
I look at the marks again. I know this signature. I've seen it in the deepest layers of the Trench. It's a calling card. A message left by professionals who want you to know exactly who ruined your life.
The Deepwardens.
They didn't come for money. They came for the Codex. They came for me.
The grief in my chest hardens into something colder, heavier. Like iron settling in the stomach. I clench my jaw so hard my teeth ache, a desperate attempt to cage the scream rising in my throat.
I slowly stand up. My legs aren't shaking anymore.
I walk over to my mother and gently close her eyes. Then I do the same for Lili.
"I'm sorry I wasn't here," I whisper, my voice sounding terrifyingly calm in the silent apartment. "But I promise you one thing."
I look at the three notches on the wall, memorizing them.
"I'm going to kill them all," I whisper, the promise tasting like ash and iron.
I don't just want them dead. I want them to scream like Lili and Mom never got the chance to.