The sky looked angry, like it was burning and bleeding at the same time. Clouds twisted like smoke from a fire, and the light was red, gold, and black, as if the sun had cracked open. The wind screamed, but not like normal wind. It felt like it had voices in it—old, angry voices that had been asleep for too long. They woke up hungry, tearing across the battlefield like invisible monsters.Lightning flashed across the sky. But this lightning wasn’t normal either. It wasn’t just white or yellow. It was strange—bright gold mixed with purple, and it gave off a strange smell, like the air right before a storm mixed with something ancient and scary. It smelled like fear.Oliver stood still, staring at the battlefield. The ground around him was black and broken. Smoke rose in the air. Some parts of the earth glowed red from fire. Other parts were cold and dark, covered in strange shadows. The ground was cracked and shaking, and in the middle of it all lay Azrael.Azrael wasn’t moving. His da

Oliver landed hard on the ground, rolling through the scorched dust and stone. The floor cracked beneath his body, and every bone in him begged for stillness-but the moment he opened his eyes, he knew rest was an illusion. They were in a different part of the Forge now-some inner sanctum buried deep in the crucible's bowels. The walls here bled fire from runic seams. The ceilings arched endlessly into smoke. Chains moved of their own volition like hungry serpents. And before them loomed a colossal gate-twelve stories tall, sealed with a lattice of glowing sigils and bones. Azrael stood nearby, eyes scanning the runes. "We've got maybe three minutes before that thing tracks us."" "The Binder," Oliver said with an effort to sit up. "You knew it?" Azrael didn't look away from the gate. "Everyone in the old wars knew it. The Binder doesn't kill. It archives. Chains your soul in a memory loop and erases your presence from existence. You become a story told by screams in the walls."He

Falling didn’t feel like falling. To Oliver, it felt like drifting through space, like floating in a sea made of stars. But this wasn’t a peaceful sea. Everything glowed the wrong way. The colors were strange. Red felt cold, and blue burned like fire. The light shimmered like glass underwater, changing and shifting, never still. The air buzzed, humming softly, almost like music. But it wasn’t any kind of music he knew. It felt like a song from another world, played in a language no one spoke.His body spun slowly as he fell. Chains wrapped around his arms and legs. They were broken now, hanging loose like dead snakes. These were the chains of the Binder. Once, they held him tight. Now they were just pieces. Pieces of something that had failed.In one hand, he still held his sword. The blade trembled. It flickered with a soft glow, like a candle trying not to go out. The sword was trying to help him, trying to keep him grounded. It remembered. It still had will.Oliver opened his mout

Everything was painted the same shade of red. And that wasn't a mere view from the eye. It was deep and heavy, as if a storm waited for millennia to return, sad and angry and pained, almost like a storm in the sky.Oliver was frozen. Blank and stoned by the light, which wasn't warm but cold and sharp. Not fire; living. It wanted to eat everything, thoughts, and memories too. More than light, it was that feeling wrapping around his bones and pulling into the pieces in him.His body started to tremble. From fear? No. From deep down inside. His bones ached. His skin felt foreign to him. His heart beat dangerously. It was fast, too speedy, as though to catch up to some thing. It was then like the very world itself folded in on itself. Bent, twisted, tore. But he didn't fall. He didn't scream. Rather, it felt like being taken apart.Oliver could neither see nor hear anymore. Not even the wind or the beat of his own heart. But he felt pain, starting from his chest and spreading out to the e

Each heartbeat pounded in Oliver's ears, almost as if his heart were beating within the recesses of his skull. The pain in his body seemed endless. There was not a part of his body that didn't hurt. His skin, once smooth, now shone with silver cracks running like lightning beneath his armor. It was strange yet felt familiar, a constant reminder of how far he had fallen. His legs felt heavy; his feet dragged across shattered ground as he stumbled onward. Breathing was becoming increasingly difficult. Each step was a battle, and each breath could have been the last unto his burning lungs, perforated by a kind of abandonment. It was a dull ache haunting Oliver, smoldering within him, refusing to die even if alongside him lay a body yearning for death.He tried to balance again, but the first thing he saw was them breaking through the shadow. Too many limbs had they! Bodies stitched with mismatched pieces of skin. Mouths sewn shut; gone were the eyes, replaced by empty, hollow sockets. C