George's Last Reincarnation

CHAPTER FIVE — THE CITY OF LOST BREATHS

George hit the ground hard enough to knock the air from his lungs. Dust exploded around him in a blue-lit cloud. His palms scraped against rough stone.

For a moment he lay there, gasping, trying to understand what had happened, where he was, why everything felt wrong, heavy, unreal. Then he heard it.

A low hum. Like thousands of distant whispers bleeding together. He pushed himself up The sight froze him.

He stood on a platform overlooking a massive cavern a city carved into the rock, its walls glowing with blue veins of light. Towers twisted upward like spirals of bone.

Bridges hung like spiderwebs between impossible structures. Below, countless translucent figures drifted, souls, wandering aimlessly, their faces blank and shimmering.

The place pulsed with an energy he could feel through his skin. “Where the hell am I…?”

His voice echoed strangely, swallowed by the humming below. A sharp whistle cut through the air. George turned just in time. The Collectors were coming.

Descending like hunting birds, tall, hooded, boneless movements, their limbs stretching unnaturally. Their eyes burned white through the darkness. George staggered back. “No, no, no”

One landed on the platform behind him, the stone shattering beneath its weight.

Another landed in front. Two more hovered above him, blocking any escape. George lifted his fists out of instinct. “Stay back.”

One of the Collectors tilted its head slowly. “Seventh-soul…”

it whispered, voice like metal scraping stone. George’s spine tingled. “What do you want?”

The creature’s fingers elongated, reaching toward him. “Your breaking. Your end. Your release.”

“I’m not dying here.”

George took a step back. The Collector’s hand shot forward.

George ducked, barely. The air above his head sizzled as the creature’s touch sliced through it. He rolled across the platform, momentum carrying him dangerously close to the edge. He looked down. A fall that would kill any human.

But then again, he’d already died more than once. The Collectors advanced. George spat out blood. “Fine. Come on then.”

The nearest Collector lunged. But before it reached him, blue fire burst from the cavern walls. A shockwave ripped through the air. The Collectors screeched and recoiled as a circular seal of glowing symbols erupted beneath George’s feet.

He stumbled backward, shielding his eyes. When the light softened, he saw them: Figures cloaked in dark blue, standing on the steps below the platform, their hands glowing with the same blue fire.

Six of them. Their faces hidden behind carved masks resembling ancient stone guardians. One stepped forward. “Seventh-soul,”

the masked figure said. “You are not permitted to fall yet.”

George blinked at him. “Who the hell are you?”

“Wardens,”

the figure said. “Keepers of wandering souls.

“And why are you saving me?”

“Because Asher asked us to.”

George stiffened. “Asher…? Where is he? I need answers.”

“You will have them,”

the Warden said. “If you survive tonight.”

Two Wardens raised their hands sharply.

The seal beneath George’s feet expanded outward like a shockwave. The Collectors hissed and twisted, retreating from the spreading symbols as if burned. But they weren’t leaving. They were circling.

Waiting. One of the Wardens turned to his companions. “Form the bridge.”

Four of them slammed their palms into the stone. The platform jolted. A narrow, glowing pathway unfurled from the edge of the platform, stretching across the cavern toward a distant tower carved into the rock face.

The tower’s top was crowned with swirling blue fire. “That tower,”

the lead Warden said, “is the only safe ground in this realm. We will escort you there.”

George glanced at the Collectors circling above. “Won’t they just follow?”

“They will try,”

the Warden replied. “But this path will collapse behind us. Move.”

George didn’t need to be told twice They sprinted. The bridge pulsed beneath their feet, each step sending ripples of blue energy racing outward. Behind them, the stone collapsed into the abyss, erased by the void the moment they left it.

George’s heart hammered. “Why am I here? What do they want with me?”

“You are the Seventh-soul,” the Warden said, running effortlessly ahead of him. “The last of your line. The final life before dissolution.”

“I already know all that, what I don’t know is why everyone keeps chasing me!”

A Warden behind him responded, voice echoing inside the mask. “Because you were never meant to live seven times.”

George frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The lead Warden answered without turning. “Your reincarnations were… stolen.”

George’s footsteps faltered. “Stolen?”

“Yes,”

the Warden said. “Your first death was meant to be your last. But you made a bargain with spirits who twisted the laws. They tore fragments of life from other threads, threads that now demand their balance.”

“You’re telling me I’m living on borrowed souls?”

“No,”

the Warden said. “You are living on borrowed fates.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Fates can be hunted.”

A sudden scream tore through the air. A Warden behind them jerked violently as a Collector slammed into him from above, dragging him off the bridge. “No!”

George lunged toward the edge. The Warden leader grabbed his arm, yanking him back. “Do not stop!”

George swallowed hard. “He just”

“He knew the risks,”

the lead Warden snapped. “Move!”

They ran faster. Collectors swarmed overhead now, diving, slashing at the collapsing bridge. Sparks of blue energy flew in every direction as the Wardens deflected the attacks, The tower grew closer.

George could see an entrance, an arched doorway lined with swirling symbols.

Almost there, A Collector dove straight toward George. He ducked, but the creature’s claws scraped across his shoulder, slicing through flesh. Blood spattered across the glowing stone.

George grunted in pain. Two Wardens immediately whirled around, flinging blasts of blue fire that forced the Collector back. “Keep moving!”

one of them shouted. George clutched his shoulder, teeth clenched. “I’m trying!”

They surged forward. Meters left. But the Collectors were relentless, forming a wall of shadows near the tower entrance. The lead Warden lifted both hands.

Blue fire exploded outward in a dome, momentarily clearing a path. “Go!”

he shouted. George sprinted into the light. The Wardens followed, He reached the tower entrance. The moment he crossed the threshold, the symbols on the arch ignited, A sonic boom tore through the cavern.

The glowing bridge collapsed entirely, huge chunks of stone falling into the abyss below. The Collectors shrieked and scattered as the tower lit up, rejecting their presence. The Wardens stumbled inside, breathing heavily.

George pressed a hand to his bleeding shoulder. His vision pulsed. His breath came in sharp, ragged pulls. The lead Warden approached him. “You survived.

George scowled. “Barely.”

“You survived,”

the Warden repeated. “Many do not.”

George looked around. The interior of the tower was circular, lined with floating lanterns that flickered with blue fire. The walls were engraved with spirals and symbols he didn’t recognize.

“Now explain everything,” George said. “No riddles. No cryptic warnings. Who is Asher? Why do the Collectors want me? What do they want me for? Why does everyone treat me like I’m some broken part of the universe?”

The Wardens exchanged tense looks. The lead Warden finally removed his mask.

He looked younger than George expected, early twenties, pale skin, dark eyes.

“My name is Rion,”

he said. “And you, Seventh-soul, are standing at the center of a war older than your world.”

George didn’t blink. “Start talking.”

Rion inhaled slowly. “Asher is not a man.”

George stiffened. “What do you mean he’s not a man?”

“Asher is the last Keeper of the Veil, the guardian of the reincarnation cycle. The boy who visited you… he was one of Asher’s echoes. A fragment sent to warn you.”

George frowned. “Warn me about what?”

“About the deal you made in your first life. The deal that gave the spirits permission to consume your remaining fates.”

George’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t know what I was agreeing to.

“That is the problem,” Rion said. “You never knew. Not in your first life. Not in any of your repeated ones.”

George stepped closer. “What happens if the Collectors get me?”

Rion’s expression darkened. “You will not reincarnate. You will not pass on. You will not even die.”

“Then what?”

“You will be erased,” Rion said quietly. “Your soul folded into the void as payment for the stolen fates you lived.”

George swallowed hard. “So what do I do?”

“You must meet Asher,” Rion replied. “Only he can tell you what your final life is supposed to become. And only he knows how to break the contract you signed.”

George stared at him. “Where is he?”

Rion exhaled slowly. “In the deepest layer of the Veil.

“And how do I get there?”

Rion gestured to the spiraling staircase behind him. “You climb.”

George turned toward the staircase, just as the tower shuddered violently under a massive impact. Rion’s head snapped toward the door. “Impossible. They cannot breach the tower.”

A second impact shook the stone. A lantern cracked.Dust rained from the ceiling. George took a step back. “Uh… they look like they’re trying.”

Rion’s eyes widened as cracks spread across the tower walls. 

“No…”

he whispered. “This cannot be happening. They are not acting alone.”

George stiffened. “What does that mean?”

Rion swallowed hard. “It means something stronger than Collectors… something older… something forbidden… is hunting you.”

Before George could respond, the tower’s door exploded inward, launching shards of stone across the chamber. A towering figure stepped through the smoke, Not a Collector. Not a Warden. A hooded giant with burning gold eyes.

Rion stumbled backward. “A Sovereign…? But they were sealed,”

The creature lifted one massive hand and pointed at George. Its voice shook the entire tower. “Seventh-soul. You belong to us.”

George backed up the stairs, heartbeat hammering. “What the hell is THAT?!”

Rion turned toward him. Fear, real fear, filled his eyes. “That,”

Rion whispered, “is the executioner of the Veil.”

The creature stepped forward, golden fire gathering in its palm. Rion shouted: “RUN, GEORGE!”