Clack. Clack.
A soft pair of footsteps echoed down the dark corridor, steady and deliberate in the dead of night. The figure moved like a shadow, each step measured and quiet. She was a Shinbi—a master of stealth—clad in obsidian-black garb that blended seamlessly with the dim surroundings. A dagger hung at her side, glinting faintly in the torchlight. Her lower face was veiled by a mask, and a black sigil marked her left cheek. Her dark hair was tied back in a high ponytail, not a single strand out of place.
The footsteps came to a halt at the corner of the hall. She peered ahead—two massive doors loomed at the end, framed by flickering torches and faint streaks of dried blood on the stone walls.
"No guards at the door, huh?" she murmured under her breath, eyes narrowing. The air carried a faint metallic tang. Something was off.
She pressed her ear against the wooden doors, listening. Nothing. Not even a whisper. Slowly, she pushed them open, and the truth revealed itself exactly as she feared.
Inside, her lord stood amidst the carnage—feeding. The bodies of his guards lay limp around him, their aether being drawn from their very cores.
The woman exhaled, unimpressed. "Couldn't you wait a little longer, Lord Tavin?"
The man turned. He wore a wooden mask covering his nose, painted with a vivid orange stripe running down the center. A single orange feather jutted proudly from the top. His hair—bright as firelight—fell to his neck, and his sharp amber eyes gleamed beneath the mask. Dressed in modest battlewear, he looked every bit the part of a warrior who'd lost his restraint.
Tavin smiled lazily. "Sorry, sorry. You know how it is these days. Aether's scarce. Sacrifices must be made if one wishes to survive."
He rose, blood dripping from his fingers as he approached her. "What's that saying they have? Ah—'survival of the fittest.'"
He placed his bloodied hand on her shoulder. "Of course, if I were stationed at the Capital, I wouldn't need to stoop to such distasteful acts."
The shinobi said nothing, staying quiet and hearing everything Tavin had to say.
Tavin withdrew his hand, strolling past her with casual arrogance. "Now then, Zaira, tell me, what business brings you to me at this hour?"
Zaira brushed the blood from her shoulder and bowed slightly. "Per your request to Lord Soryn for more aether, I've been stationed at the cabin for the last couple months. Tonight, there are… three guests."
Tavin's eyes flickered with surprise. "Three? My, that's more company than the inn's had in weeks. I suppose I'll spare that father and son another few months then…"
"But that's not all, my lord," Zaira continued.
"Oh?" He turned sharply. "Go on."
"These three match the descriptions of the people Lord Soryn wants captured. A boy with violet eyes, another with green, and a woman with a scar who wields a katana."
Tavin's eyes gleamed beneath the mask, the moonlight catching the edges of his feather.
"How delightful. Never would I have imagined those two fools would stumble straight into Sylmora's most wanted."
He clenched his fist, voice hardening. "To think these three have caused such chaos in mere weeks… It makes my blood boil. They threaten the fragile peace we're trying to forge. But they will not derail our mission."
He wiped the blood from his mouth and gave a cold grin. "Send them to the chamber immediately. I'll deal with them personally and ensure they find their way to the Capital shortly after."
"At once, my lord."
Zaira gave a respectful bow, then turned toward the exit. In a swirl of black feathers, her body shifted into that of a crow, the same one that had perched near the inn where Rena, Tharic, and Kyro were staying. With a flap of her wings, she vanished into the night.
Meanwhile…
"So what do we know so far?"
Kyro's eyes fluttered open, and he froze. He was back in that memory again. The same room. The same mysterious figure from his visions.
"My memories… again…"
His mouth moved on its own, words spilling out beyond his control. "Aether is the energy basis for all lifeforms."
The figure stood before a blackboard, chalk in hand, writing swiftly. "Correct. Continue."
"Aether exists in everything—humans, plants, animals. When properly channeled, it becomes a stream of raw power, ideal for fueling the machine we're creating."
Kyro flipped through his notes. "But as we've tested, harnessing enough aether to fire a single beam large enough to obliterate the Capital took half a year. What we need instead is a stable, continuous source of power."
He opened a drawer and produced a glowing blue crystal. "That's where the Aetherite Crystal comes in. While each holds little aether naturally, it continuously draws energy from its surroundings. With enough of them, we could sustain power indefinitely."
The figure jotted down notes, his face obscured in shadow. Kyro strained to see through the darkness, but it was like looking into a void.
"Who are you?" Kyro thought. "And why are these the only memories I can recall?"
"Well done, my friend," the figure finally said, his tone calm yet heavy with purpose. "Aether powers our world, but stability—ah, stability—is the true key. That's where the crystals come into play."
He turned back toward Kyro. "And when greater power is needed, we can channel our own aether to amplify the machine's output, temporarily, of course."
Kyro nodded. "Indeed. But with war on the horizon, time isn't on our side. We must finish before the end consumes us all."
Silence filled the room—until the figure chuckled softly. "Ever the determined one, even now. Some things never change, do they? Even at the end."
Kyro smiled faintly. "Maybe humanity's doomed… but we'll protect this world. One step at a time."
The figure nodded, "I wholeheartedly agree."
The figure turned back to the board. "Now, let's discuss souls—and how they tie together the final threads of our grand design."
Kyro opened his mouth to respond, but the vision fractured like glass. Cracks spread through the memory until it shattered entirely—
"Wake up, Kyro!"
A familiar voice pierced the void.
"This isn't the time!"
"Get up!"
The world around him dissolved into streaks of light, stars rushing past as though he were tumbling through time itself. Then, with a jolt, he opened his eyes—back in the present.
Rena sighed. "Let me slap him. That'll wake this kid up."
"Wait—" Tharic began, but it was too late.
SLAP!
The sound echoed through the cell. Kyro shot upright, clutching his cheek. "OW! What was that for?!"
"I told you it'd work," Rena said smugly, glancing at Tharic.
"I was already awake before you slapped me!" Kyro groaned, rubbing the red mark on his face.
"Then why didn't you say something?"
"He did," Tharic muttered. "That's what I was trying to tell you."
Rena shrugged. "Oops. My bad."
Kyro exhaled. "Anyway, where—"
He stopped mid-sentence, eyes widening. They weren't in the inn anymore. The air was damp, the walls cold and rough. Metal bars lined both sides of a narrow hallway.
They were in a prison.
"Where… where are we?" Kyro whispered, horror creeping into his voice.
Rena peered through the bars of the prison cell, her sharp eyes scanning the dim corridor outside.
"Yeah, I'm not sure what happened," she muttered, voice low but tense. "I woke up to the sensation of high-level aether being used… and the next thing I knew, we were down here."
"Were you able to see who cast such a technique on us?" Tharic asked, stepping beside her.
Rena shook her head—then paused, a flicker of realization crossing her face. "There was one thing," she said slowly. "Just before everything went dark… I saw a crow perched on our window."
"A crow?" Kyro asked, brow furrowing.
"Yeah." Rena shrugged. "That's all I saw before the light engulfed us."
Tharic frowned, rubbing his chin. "Interesting…"
He pushed himself to his feet, scanning the small, damp cell. "Either way, we need to find a way out. We've got more questions than answers, especially about that inn."
He crossed the room and gathered their weapons from a dusty corner. The steel of the axe and the gleam of the katana caught the faint torchlight. Tharic handed Kyro his axe and passed the katana to Rena.
"Agreed," Rena said, sliding the blade back into its sheath with a metallic hiss. "So much for getting any rest tonight."
Kyro took his axe, gripping the handle tightly. He started to rise, then froze. A piercing pain shot through his skull like lightning. His weapon slipped from his grasp and clattered against the floor.
"Ughhhhhh!" he screamed, collapsing to his knees, clutching his head.
"Kyro!" Tharic shouted, rushing over.
"What's happening to him?" Rena asked, alarmed.
Kyro couldn't respond, the pain was unbearable. His screams echoed off the cold stone walls, filling the corridor with anguish.
"Damn it, this is bad," Tharic muttered, kneeling beside him.
"Has this ever happened before?" Rena asked urgently.
Tharic shook his head. "Never. Not like this." He reached instinctively for his satchel, then cursed under his breath. "The potion… I used it back during the Hosta incident."
Kyro's voice strained through the pain. "My head… it's splitting apart!"
Tharic's eyes widened as fragmented memories came rushing back, the first time he met Kyro and Hunter in his home. Kyro had collapsed back then too, struck by a sudden, brutal headache that left him unconscious. But this time… it was different. Stronger. Darker.
"This isn't the same," Tharic whispered. "This is worse."
"What do we do?" Rena demanded.
Before either could act, Kyro screamed again, louder this time—his body trembling violently.
"AHHHHHH!"
Then—images. Rapid, vivid, searing.
A burning town. Screams. Shadows devouring light. The stench of smoke and blood.
Kyro's vision flooded with chaos and destruction, eerily familiar, just like before, when he'd been dragged into that strange realm to fight his own mirror image.
"Am I… being pulled back there again?" he thought, teeth gritted.
Then came a voice. Calm. Echoing. Resonant.
"Concentrate on my voice…"
Kyro's eyes widened. The voice, it sounded like his own.
"Was that… me?" he whispered.
"Heed me…"
Despite the agony, Kyro forced himself to focus, silencing every other thought until only that voice remained.
"Third floor…"
"…it lies on the third floor…"
"…hurry and retrieve it…"
"…please, I beg you…"
"…you're the only one who can…"
And then—silence.
The visions vanished. The pain faded, leaving only a dull ache behind. Kyro exhaled shakily, sweat dripping from his temple.
"Thank the stars," Tharic breathed, relief washing over him.
Rena knelt beside Kyro. "Are you alright? What happened?"
Kyro looked up, still dazed. "A voice… It told me to retrieve something. On the third floor of this building."
Rena blinked. "A voice? The third floor?"
Tharic crossed his arms, eyes narrowing. "Are you sure about that? Whoever, or whatever, it was could be manipulating you."
Kyro steadied himself and slowly rose to his feet, though his legs trembled. "To be honest...I don't know myself," he admitted. "But… I feel as if I have to see it through."
He placed a hand over his heart, feeling its pounding rhythm. "I have a feeling this is connected to my memories. And if that's true, then I need to find whatever it's leading me to."
He bent down, picked up his axe, and strapped it across his back. "Let's move. We don't have time to waste."
Tharic looked over at Kyro, whose facial expression seemed more determined than ever. "Whatever he heard, it's clear it's important to him...I wonder what this is all about..."
CAW! CAW!
A chorus of crows erupted from the shadows, their wings fluttering through the hallway like a storm of black feathers.
Then—a voice echoed from beyond the darkness. Smooth, mocking, and all too familiar.
"Well, well, well…" it drawled. "I knew I heard a scream from above."
The voice chuckled softly, almost amused.
"Seems the three of you are finally awake."