2025-11-30 15:47:09
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Fractured Soul
Draven didn’t hit the ground.He sank into it— as if the darkness thickened into liquid shadows, swallowing him whole before spitting him into a new space.A cold wind cut across his face.The chamber he landed in was smaller than the ones before—circular, almost perfectly smooth, with no visible entrance or exit. Just a hollow, echoing sphere of pale-blue light.Except for the center.In the middle of the chamber floated something that made Draven’s chest seize.A figure. Suspended. Bound.Lucen.Or what was left of him.His soul hovered in the air like shattered glass—pieces of pale-blue essence flickering in and out of existence, as though struggling to remember their own shape. Each fragment was tethered by thin threads of silver that pulsed weakly, like fading veins.Draven staggered forward.“Lucen,” he whispered.The fragments trembled—responding to his voice.A soft crackling sound echoed as the largest piece of Lucen’s soul drifted closer, forming the faint outline of a face.
The Soul-Labyrinth
They didn’t hit the ground.They were caught by it— as if the darkness itself shaped hands and lowered them into a vast, silent space.Draven staggered upright first.The chamber around them wasn’t like anything in the upper Crypts. It was impossibly wide, stretching out farther than any torchlight could reach. The walls weren’t stone.They were alive.A lattice of pulsing veins ran through black crystal, glowing with faint silver light—like the heartbeat of something ancient sleeping beneath the earth.Eira stepped closer, voice trembling with awe and dread. “This… this is a soul-labyrinth.”Aric’s brow knit. “A what?”“A prison crafted from consciousness itself,” she whispered. “This place rearranges itself to trap you in illusions, memories… fears. Whatever breaks you fastest.”Lysandra lifted her blade, jaw tense. “Perfect. A maze built to destroy us.”“No,” Eira corrected. “A maze built to break him.” She looked at Draven. “To break Lucen.”Draven felt a cold fist tighten around
The Vanishing
Silence swallowed the chamber.Dust drifted through the air like ash after a battlefield fire, settling over shattered stone and fallen bodies. Draven pushed himself up on trembling elbows, his throat burning with every shallow breath.Lucen was gone.Not walked away. Not pulled through a portal. Not teleported.Erased. Like the air had folded around him and swallowed him whole.Eira groaned somewhere to Draven’s left, struggling to sit up. Her golden light flickered weakly across the floor, revealing the damage.Pillars cracked. Walls split. The mirrored ceiling spiderwebbed with fractures.The Crypts of Echoes had felt many battles, many centuries of screams—but none like this.Lysandra staggered to her feet, leaning heavily on Aric. Blood dripped down her jaw, but her eyes were sharp.“Where is he?” she rasped.Aric shook his head, voice thin. “One second he was there… and then—gone. Just—gone.”Eira forced herself upright, clutching her ribs. She pressed two fingers to the air whe
The Throne in His Eyes
Lucen’s fingers tightened around Draven’s throat.Cold. Unnatural. Strong enough to crush stone.Draven’s breath snapped short, a sharp burst of panic hitting him as his boots scraped across the fractured ground. Lucen lifted him easily—too easily—like he weighed nothing.Eira’s horrified scream echoed through the chamber.“LUCEN, STOP!”But the man holding Draven wasn’t Lucen anymore.Not fully.His eyes—once soft blue, then bright white—were now bottomless pits of shadow. No emotion. No recognition. No mercy.The Reaper King spoke through him with quiet cruelty:“Kneeling is mercy. I offer it once.”Draven clawed at Lucen’s wrist, but his grip was iron. Every movement sent fire ripping down Draven’s lungs.Lysandra lunged forward, sword raised. “LET. HIM. GO!”But Lucen didn’t even turn.With a flick of his other hand—barely a gesture—Lysandra was thrown backward by a blast of invisible force, slamming into the stone wall hard enough to crack it.She groaned, sliding to the floor.A
The Price of Defiance
For a heartbeat, the entire chamber fell still.Dust hung in the cold air. The torches remained dead. The mirrored ceiling reflected only the white blaze radiating from Lucen’s eyes.And Draven—He did not kneel.He stood frozen, breath shallow, mind racing. Not from fear. From fury.Lucen’s body jerked, harsh and unnatural, as the Reaper King forced his gaze down onto Draven.“Kneel,” that ancient voice thundered, echoing through the stone like the judgment of a god. “Your refusal will break him.”Lucen’s face twisted in agony—his mouth opening in a silent scream.Eira stepped forward, golden light flickering around her palms. “Draven—don’t listen. He wants you to surrender. He wants to bind you.”Lysandra hissed, blade raised. “We fight. Even a Reaper bleeds—somehow.”But Draven didn’t move. He couldn’t.Because Lucen’s body—the one glowing, cracking, trembling—wasn’t just a vessel.It was a person.One he had killed once.And he was not doing it again.Draven spoke slowly, voice lo
The Chamber of Echoes
The Crypts swallowed the last echoes of Lucen’s scream, leaving behind a silence so heavy it pressed against their lungs.Draven didn’t remember moving.One moment he was standing beside Eira— the next he was already striding into the tunnel, torchlight trembling in his hand.“Draven—wait!” Eira’s voice chased him.But he couldn’t stop.Not now.Not after that scream.The tunnel twisted sharply, sloping downward until the air grew colder—wet, metallic, alive with whispers that clung to the edges of his hearing. The walls here were carved with newer marks, fresher lines—deep gouges made by something with claws.Lysandra caught up, blade drawn. “Whatever did this… it wasn’t human.”Aric swallowed hard. “Or dead.”They stepped into a vast chamber.It was unlike the others—wide, circular, with a domed ceiling covered in mirrored glass that reflected their torchlight in fractured pieces. Shattered bones littered the floor, forming a spiral leading toward the center.And at the center—Luce
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