RISE FROM THE VOID

Chapter 7

"I went dark. Stopped reporting. Celestara probably thinks I'm dead, which suits me fine. I've been living in the Void's margins ever since, gathering information, building my own network." 

Torrin's whip-Remnant uncoiled slightly. 

"I can't undo what I did. But I can make Celestara pay for it."

Xander weighed his options. Trust was a luxury he couldn't afford. But pragmatism was survival.

"Twenty-four hours to the wall. You guide me there, help me reach the under-rings, and I'll share whatever I find. But if you betray me…"

"Your copper wire will carve me into pieces. I'm aware."

 Torrin extended a gloved hand. 

"Do we have an accord?"

Xander shook it. The grip was firm, confident.

"Good. We leave at dawn. Such as it is."

 Torrin settled against the container's far wall.

 "Get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be intense."

Xander didn't sleep. He kept Kael's daggers within reach and watched Torrin through slitted eyes. The masked figure didn't move, didn't speak, just sat in perfect stillness.

As chemical rain drummed against the container's roof, Xander thought about Harlan. About trust and betrayal. About the fact that everyone in this toxic pit had been thrown away for someone else's convenience.

Maybe Torrin was genuine. Maybe they were another trap.

Either way, Xander was committed now.

The path forward led through monsters and allies alike.

And at the end, if he survived, was truth.

………

Pre-dawn,the shift from black to toxic gray,came too fast.

Torrin stood, stretching.

 "Time to move. Stay close, stay quiet, and trust my signals."

They exited the container. The Void stretched before them, a nightmare landscape painted in shades of rust and decay. Torrin moved with the confidence of someone who knew every path, every danger.

Xander followed, bracers ready.

A wraith emerged from a trash pile fifty yards ahead. Torrin's hand flashed in a signal: 

‘Stop. Wait.’

The wraith shambled past, oblivious.

Torrin moved forward. Xander matched their pace exactly.

They traveled like ghosts through the wasteland,avoiding wraith patrols, skirting chemical rivers, moving through spaces too narrow for the larger monsters. Torrin's knowledge was encyclopedic. They knew which garbage piles would collapse underfoot, which shadows hid predators, which paths were recent and which were ancient.

Eight hours in, they reached a ravine Xander had never seen on any map. It was narrow, walls pressing close, bottom lost in darkness.

"Through here."

 Torrin said. 

"It's the fastest route."

Xander peered down. 

"How far?"

"Half a mile. There are handholds, ledges. Just don't look down."

They descended.

The walls closed in, pressing tight enough Xander could touch both sides. His bracers scraped stone. Bioluminescent fungus provided dim light, revealing ancient graffiti carved into rock,messages from previous climbers, warnings, prayers.

One caught Xander's eye: 

‘"They're watching. Always watching."’

Below it, in fresher carving:

 ‘"The eye sees all who fall."’

"Torrin, what is this place?"

"The Throat. Old maintenance access, back before Celestara sealed most routes between the Void and under-rings. Some say it's haunted."

 Torrin's voice echoed. 

"I say it's just old and full of unpleasant history."

They climbed deeper. The air grew thicker, harder to breathe even through Xander's wire mask. And then he heard it,a sound like breathing, but massive. Something huge, something alive, something very close.

"Torrin…"

"I know. Keep moving. Don't. Stop."

The breathing grew louder. Xander's bracers blazed with warning heat. Something was below them, something his Remnant recognized as a threat.

"What is that?"

"The Throat isn't empty." 

Torrin's pace increased.

 "Move faster."

A roar erupted from below,so deep it shook stone, so loud Xander's ears rang. And then light, blazing upward. Not bioluminescence. Fire.

A wraith emerged from the darkness below. But not like any Xander had seen. This one was ancient, massive, built from industrial furnaces and smelting equipment. Its body glowed with internal heat, flames licking from joints. Eyes like blast furnace windows stared up at them, malevolent and aware.

"Climb!" 

Torrin screamed.

Xander's bracers erupted. Wire shot upward, grabbing handholds, pulling him faster than humanly possible. Behind him, the furnace-wraith roared again, fire washing up the Throat's walls.

Heat seared Xander's back. His wire began to glow red. Torrin was already above him, whip-Remnant lashing out to grab Xander's arm and haul him up.

They burst from the Throat's mouth as flames filled the passage behind them.

Xander rolled away from the edge, gasping. His back was burned, clothes smoldering. Torrin patted out the last embers.

"What was that thing?"

"Guardian. Celestara put it there centuries ago, before they gave up trying to control access routes. It's supposed to kill anyone trying to climb between levels."

 Torrin helped Xander up. 

"Congratulations. You just survived something that's killed dozens."

Ahead, through the toxic haze, Xander saw it.

The western wall.

A massive structure rising from the Void's floor to its ceiling,metal and stone, ancient and imposing. And carved into it, barely visible, was a door.

"The maintenance shaft."

 Torrin said. 

"Your way home."

Xander stared at it, hardly believing. Three days compressed into one. The wall within reach.

Then he saw the bodies.

Dozens of them, scattered around the door. Exiles who'd tried to climb and failed. Their Remnants lay beside them, dormant and useless.

"What killed them?"

 Xander whispered.

"The door isn't unguarded.

There's a final test. A wraith unlike any other. But…"

 Torrin's masked face turned to him.

 "...you've got me now. And together, we might just make it through."

The door waited.

And whatever guarded it was stirring.