My breath steadied, but something had shifted inside me.
The cold wasn't just in the air—it was in me, like it had crawled beneath my skin. I couldn't explain it, but I felt drawn—like some invisible thread tugged at my chest, guiding me back to that hidden place.
I pressed my hand to the wall, where I'd felt the seam before, and it opened again with a low click.
I stepped into the passage without hesitation this time. The torchlight from my room barely reached beyond the threshold. The deeper I walked, the darker it became… and yet, I wasn't afraid.
I knew I was walking toward something that shouldn't exist.
And still—I kept going.
Then I saw it.
The Death Reaper.
Tall. Cloaked in black mist and tattered robes. A skeletal face beneath its hood, its glowing red eyes burning into me like they already knew everything—every thought, every fear.
But it didn't attack.
It waited.
The silence between us pulsed.
"You called me," I said, my voice low, steady.
Its head tilted slightly, as if amused. "You heard."
"I saw you kill that man," I said. "And I should run. I should be terrified."
"But you are not," it whispered. Its voice wasn't sound—it was inside me, echoing in a language older than words. "Because you remember."
"I don't remember anything," I snapped. "But I feel something. Like I've… touched death before."
The Reaper stepped forward slowly, the scythe dragging lightly against the stone. Its free hand extended—not in threat, but in offering.
"You are tied to the Blade of Time. To the Severed Path. And to me. You were marked long ago."
My breath caught. "Why me?"
"Because you chose it," the Reaper whispered. "And you will choose it again."
It reached into the folds of its cloak and withdrew something small—an obsidian shard, pulsing faintly with violet light.
"Take it," it said. "With it, I may pass unseen. You carry the mark. They will not question you."
My hand trembled as I reached out. The moment my fingers touched the shard, a rush of icy power surged through me. Memories flashed—visions not quite my own: an ancient war, blood-stained altars, a hand reaching for mine through a storm of shadow.
I gasped.
But I didn't let go.
"What do you want me to do?" I asked, my voice hoarse.
"For now… only open the way. When the time comes, you will know the rest."
Then the Reaper stepped back, vanishing into the shadows like smoke, leaving only the shard in my hand and the echo of its presence in my bones.
I returned to my room in silence, closed the secret passage, and hid the shard beneath the folds of my blanket.
My fingers still tingled from its touch.
I stared at the shard long after the Death Reaper vanished, its cold weight resting in my palm like a promise I wasn't sure I understood.
Sleep was impossible now.
The air in the room still carried his chill, and something inside me stirred—pulling me back.
Without hesitation, I stood, slipped the shard into the pocket of my tunic, and returned to the seam in the wall. My fingers pressed against the same stone. Click.
The passage opened again, silent and dark.
This time, I didn't hesitate. I stepped inside and let the cold swallow me whole.
The corridor was as I'd left it—ancient, forgotten, filled with the scent of dust and old secrets. The deeper I went, the more the temperature dropped, and yet… it no longer bothered me.
It felt familiar.
At the same place I'd seen him before, he stood waiting—as if he'd known I'd return.
The Death Reaper.
The glowing red of his eyes locked onto mine, and his scythe remained at his side, unmoving.
"You came back," he said, his voice not echoing in the tunnel but in my mind—calm, quiet, absolute.
"You knew I would," I replied.
He tilted his skull slightly, as if acknowledging the truth between us.
"I don't understand any of this," I said, stepping closer. "Why do I feel like I know you? Like… I've been here before."
"Because you have," he whispered. "Not in flesh—but in soul. The path you walk has curved toward mine more than once, Anna."
I swallowed. "Then tell me the truth. Who are you? Why are you here?"
He didn't move. "I am Death. Not an end—but a reckoning. I was bound by the old order, chained beneath this fortress when the Sentinels betrayed the oath they once upheld."
"Oath?" I asked.
"To guard the Blade of Time. To never use it for conquest. But they grew greedy, like all mortals do. And so… I was sealed. Until someone would come to open the way again."
I took out the shard. It pulsed softly in my hand.
"This?" I asked.
He nodded once. "The key. One of seven. And you—you carry the mark of the Eclipsed Flame. That which can open the path, or destroy it forever."
"Why me?" I asked again, voice barely above a whisper.
"Because once… you chose me," the Reaper said. "Long ago. And though your body has changed, your spirit has not forgotten."
A silence passed between us, heavy with weight.
Then I asked what I didn't dare before.
"What happens if I help you now?"
His gaze burned brighter. "Then the truth will rise. The Blade will awaken. And the world as you know it… will no longer be bound by time."
I stood still, breath caught between terror and wonder. I had no reason to trust him. No proof of his truth.
And yet—I did trust him.
Some part of me had already decided the moment I stepped back into the dark.
"All right," I said. "What do you need me to do?"
The Death Reaper extended his skeletal hand.
"When the stars turn red, return here. I will show you the door."
I didn't take his hand—but I didn't back away either.
"I'll be ready."
I returned to my room before sunrise, the shard still warm against my chest, tucked beneath my tunic like a secret that hummed with ancient breath. The silence of Ash Sentinel was deeper now. Not peaceful—watchful.
I pressed my back against the stone wall, exhaling shakily, unsure if what I'd done was bravery, madness… or something else entirely.
Sleep didn't come.
And when the sky began to shift, I saw it.
Through the narrow slit of the high window above the chamber, the first light of dawn painted the edges of the mountains beyond.
But it wasn't gold.
It was crimson.
A strange hue, like blood spread thin across the heavens.
I stood slowly, my heart thundering.
The red deepened. Not the soft blush of morning but something harsher—ominous. Like the sky itself had been wounded.
I pressed a hand to the glass, the cold stone biting into my fingertips.
Then I remembered his words:
"When the stars turn red… return here. I will show you the door."
My breath caught.
I turned, eyes falling to the hidden seam in the wall.
No. It couldn't be. Not yet. It had only been a few hours since I'd spoken with him, maybe less.
But the stars…
A chill swept over my skin, not from cold—but from recognition. My soul stirred, like it had heard something my mind couldn't comprehend.
The shard pulsed once against my chest.
He knows.
He feels it too.
I moved to the wall. Fingers trembling, I pressed the stone.
Click.
The passage opened for the third time, the scent of ancient earth and shadow pouring out like a breath from the dead.
And then I heard it—his voice, already waiting.
"Anna."
I stepped into the dark.
"You feel it… don't you?"
"Yes," I said, barely above a whisper. "The stars are bleeding."
A pause.
"Then the seal is weakening faster than expected. Time is unraveling. You must move quickly."
I gritted my teeth, suddenly overwhelmed. "What does that mean? What's happening now?"
The Death Reaper emerged from the darkness, scythe slung across his back like a black crescent moon. His eyes glowed brighter than before.
"It means… the war has already begun. You must choose your place in it."
Alex Pov:
I came back to the room just before dawn, expecting to find Anna asleep—or pacing, maybe. She hadn't seemed settled earlier, and I couldn't blame her. Not in a place like this.
But the bed was empty.
At first, I thought maybe she went to get water or speak to the guards. But then I noticed something off—the faint draft from the far wall.
A crack. A seam where none should be.
I moved closer, running my fingers along the stone. Then I saw it: the wall wasn't sealed. Someone had opened a hidden door.
Someone like Anna.
My heart slammed against my ribs. "Anna?" I called out into the silence.
No answer.
I slipped inside, unsheathing my dagger as the wall slowly closed behind me. The air in the passage was cold—unnaturally cold. Each step down felt like I was walking into the lungs of a crypt.
The passage twisted and narrowed. I moved quietly, every muscle taut with warning. I could hear something—voices ahead. Hers. And another…
I rounded the bend.
And stopped dead.
There she was.
Anna—standing face to face with something wrong.
A skeletal figure cloaked in swirling black, like shadow had taken form and wrapped itself around bones. A crimson light burned from its eyes, and a massive scythe hung lazily over its shoulder.
I didn't think. I reacted.
"Get away from her!" I shouted, charging forward with my blade drawn.
She turned so fast I almost collided with her.
"Alex, wait!" she yelled, throwing herself between us.
I halted just inches from her, dagger raised, heart pounding.
"What the hell is that thing?" I snapped, glaring past her. "And why are you standing here like it's not a monster out of the Void?"
"He's not hurting me," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "Just listen. He's not what you think."
I shook my head. "Anna, it's a Death Reaper. I've read enough about them in the old records to know that's what he is. They're forbidden. Bound. Dangerous. You think I'm going to let it talk to you like you're equals?"
Then it spoke.
"If I meant her harm," the thing said, its voice echoing straight into my mind, "she would not be standing now."
I didn't lower my dagger.
"Not helping," I muttered under my breath.
Anna stepped closer to me, her hand on my arm. "Alex, I came here on my own. He didn't lure me or trick me. I found him. And what he's saying… it matters. He's warning us. About the stars. About the blade."
I wanted to believe she was mistaken. That she was tired, emotional, reading into things. But then she pointed upward, toward the narrow crack in the rock above.
Red light streamed through it.
Not sunrise.
Blood-red stars.
I clenched my jaw. "That… that can't be real. We'd know if something was wrong with the sky. Wouldn't we?"
"You're seeing it with your own eyes," Anna whispered. "What does that tell you?"
The Reaper raised a bony hand toward the ceiling.
"The seal is breaking," he said. "Time is unraveling. You can try to deny it, mortal. But what sleeps beneath this fortress is stirring."
My grip on the blade loosened slightly.
I didn't trust it. I didn't want to trust it.
But I trusted her.
And right now, she wasn't afraid.
She was ready.
My dagger trembled slightly in my hand, but I didn't lower it completely. I kept my eyes locked on the Death Reaper, even as Anna stood between us, her face half-shadowed in the red light bleeding through the cracks above us.
I didn't like this.
Any of it.
But pretending it wasn't real? That was no longer an option.
"Fine," I growled, narrowing my eyes at the cloaked figure. "If something is happening, and she's mixed up in it—then I deserve to know. All of it."
Anna glanced back at me, her lips parted as if to speak, but I raised a hand.
"No more riddles. No more half-truths whispered in the dark. I want the truth. From him."
The Death Reaper tilted his head, like he was amused. Or maybe pleased. Hard to tell with a walking corpse of shadow and bone.
"Truth is a dangerous gift, Alex of the Old Blood."
"I'm done with cryptic answers," I snapped. "You're haunting our stronghold, talking about unraveling time and stars bleeding red—and she keeps running to you. If you're not our enemy, then start talking like a damn ally."
Silence settled around us for a moment, thick and ancient.
Then the Reaper stepped forward.
One slow stride.
The shadows trailing his cloak whispered along the stone floor like smoke curling around a grave.
"Very well. You wish to know why she was drawn to me. Why the Blade of Time stirs. Why the stars themselves are bleeding."
He turned to Anna.
"Then let her tell you what she saw in her vision. The one the shard showed her. The one of Queen Lisa… and Valor."
I looked at her sharply. "What vision?"
She hesitated.
My heart sank.
"You've been keeping things from me."
"I didn't know how to explain it," Anna said quietly. "It came to me when I first touched the shard. I saw two figures—Lisa and Valor—they were… lovers once. And protectors of the Blade. But Valor changed. He turned greedy for its power. He tried to take it from her."
The Reaper continued, his voice low and endless.
"He did not merely try. He succeeded. And in doing so… fractured the very weave of time. The blade was broken, scattered to protect the realms. But it calls now. And it calls to her."
He pointed a finger—at Anna.
"She is not here by accident. She is the key to restoring it. Or destroying everything it once held together."
The weight of those words sank into my chest like iron.
"She didn't choose this," I said. "She's not your pawn."
"She is no pawn," the Reaper said. "But she is no longer ordinary either. She belongs to the blade now. As do you, if you stay by her side."
I looked at Anna again, but this time… I saw it.
The way the shard at her neck glowed faintly.
The light in her eyes, even in the dark.
My throat tightened. "You should've told me."
"I was trying to protect you," she whispered. "But maybe it's too late for that."
I slowly sheathed my dagger. Not because I trusted the Reaper.
But because I finally saw the war forming on the horizon.
And I realized—we were already in it.