Chapter 8: Watcher Protocol
The moon hung low over Eastgate, half-devoured by storm clouds. In the cathedral, Rayven couldn't sleep. The air felt wrong—thicker, heavier. Each breath tasted like copper and smoke.
He sat on the cathedral's highest balcony, staring down at the relic pulsing around his arm.
"Why do I feel like I'm being hunted by a memory?" he muttered.
Behind him, Selene stood in silence. "Because you are. The Core's awakening doesn't just stir the world—it wakes the past."
Rayven glanced at her. "And what about the Watchers? You said Rhea's one of them."
"She's not the only one," Selene replied, stepping beside him. "And the others won't be so curious. They'll be… efficient."
Elsewhere—beneath the old university chapel
Rhea stood at the edge of a ritual circle as sigils flared around her. The Watcher Order's inner council had formed in the shadows—hooded, faceless, speaking as one.
"He grows stronger."
"He is no longer unaware."
"It is time."
Rhea bowed. "I request restraint. Observation has shown signs of identity fracture. The heir may be splintered—harmless if guided."
The lead voice hissed.
"You hesitate."
"Emotion weakens judgment."
"I am not compromised," Rhea replied calmly, though her hands clenched at her sides. "I believe he can be steered."
The circle pulsed once, the ground trembling faintly.
"Very well," the voices chorused. "Then prove it. Engage the heir directly. Test his loyalty. If he fails—terminate."
Rhea closed her eyes. "Understood."
The next morning
Rayven arrived at class late, hoodie pulled over his head. His nights had grown stranger—dreams of crumbling cities, golden towers, creatures with his face crawling toward him from the dark.
And always the same voice whispering:
"Return to the core…"
He spotted Rhea across the courtyard. She was standing by the fountain, alone, as if waiting for him.
He approached carefully.
"I get the feeling we're long past the 'new transfer student' routine."
She didn't smile. "Good. Then let's stop pretending."
They stood facing each other as the wind stirred Rhea's dark coat and Rayven's sleeves.
"You're a Watcher," he said. "A real one."
"Yes."
"And you've been sent to kill me if I step out of line."
"…Yes."
Rayven blinked. "Thanks for the honesty?"
She stepped closer. "I told them I'd test you first. I believe there's still someone human inside you—someone who hasn't been claimed by the relic or the echoes of your past."
Rayven's jaw clenched. "Then test me.
That night
She brought him to a sealed tunnel under Eastgate Station. A Watcher vault. Wards woven from lost languages glowed on the walls. The air buzzed like a machine buried beneath a storm.
Inside: a chamber with seven glowing shards—relic fragments from fallen heirs.
"Each piece is fused with memory," Rhea said. "Fragments of your predecessors. Ghosts of your bloodline."
Rayven stepped into the circle. Immediately, the gauntlet on his arm reacted—lighting up, the veins in his body glowing brighter.
"Choose one," she said. "Face it. And survive."
Rayven reached out.
His hand hovered over a shard glowing crimson.
The moment his skin made contact—
Flash.
He stood in a burning palace.
Blood everywhere.
The throne room collapsed.
And a figure—taller, older, eyes like fire—stood before him.
"They betrayed me. Just as they'll betray you."
The man lifted his sword.
Rayven realized he was looking at his ancestor. The First Heir. The one who fell.
"Prove you're better," the figure growled, and swung.
The duel wasn't physical—it was mental. Each clash sent memories slamming into Rayven's mind.
He saw a woman in white armor crying over a shattered city.
A blade held to the throat of a child.
Chains wrapped around the Core.
Betrayal from someone who wore the same crest as Rayven's relic.
Rayven gritted his teeth. The First Heir pressed harder.
"You'll end as I did. Alone. Broken. Forgotten."
Rayven dropped to a knee—pain wracking every nerve in his body.
Then he remembered Selene's voice: "Master him before he masters you."
Rayven stood, roaring.
"I'm not you. I'm not your shadow!"
And with that, he raised his hand and unleashed everything.
Veinfire erupted from his core—white-blue flame that tore through the vision like a storm. The throne room disintegrated. The First Heir howled, vanishing into sparks.
Rayven collapsed, panting.
He was back in the chamber. Knees on the floor. Eyes wide.
Rhea knelt beside him.
"You resisted."
He looked at her, eyes glowing faintly. "I chose my path."
She touched his cheek—just a soft graze. "Then maybe there's hope."
Rayven managed a breathless chuckle. "So… am I still on your kill list?"
"For now," she said. "You've bought time. But the council will come."
He stood slowly. "Let them. I'm done running."
As they exited the vault, the shadows stirred once more.
Far away, on the Watcher council's viewing mirror, a dozen masked faces leaned forward in silence.
"He has inherited more than we feared."
"The Core pulses for him."
"The Sleeper beneath New Bastion must not wake."
One voice finally said:
"It's time to release the Bound Revenant."