Smoke curled from the altar steps.
Not from fire — from memory.
Twisted and writhing, the scent of unmade fate clung to the stone like old blood. Varl was gone. Not slain, not buried — simply absent. Like a thread cut from the loom before it could be knotted.
And that was far worse than death.
The boy stood alone beneath the flickering crimson sky, eyes cold, cloak torn, left hand still pulsing with residual energy. The sigil etched into his skin had dimmed, but its afterimage burned in every watcher's mind.
Those not collapsed.
Those not fled.
Those still watching.
He knew what would come next.
[System Notice: CRIMSON CODE INITIATED]
Your actions have triggered emergency jurisdiction by the Seven Orders.
Pursuit Level: Class-2 Faction Breach.
Reward for capture: 80,000 soulmarks / 1 high-tier relic / public cleansing ceremony.
The boy's lip curled.
They were fast.
But not fast enough.
He turned without a word and stepped off the platform. His boots struck the cobblestone softly — like raindrops against a grave.
Elsewhere, deep within the mirror-cathedrals of the Order, a thousand scrying pools flickered to life.
A man in robes of blue obsidian stood over one — skin etched with gold scripture, eyes ink-black.
He watched the footage as it burned itself into the archive: a nameless boy, a forbidden sigil, the invocation of a forgotten curse.
"The Hollow-Wombed Wail… It lives again," he murmured. "He must be—"
A whisper cut through the glass:
"He must be bound."
He didn't respond.
He didn't need to.
Across the city, bells began to toll.
Iri ran.
Not because she was afraid.
Because she wasn't.
And that terrified her more.
She dodged through alleyways, climbed broken latticework, slid beneath hanging prayer-tapestries until her lungs burned and her thoughts threatened to drown her.
She had seen it. The sigil on his hand. The voice he spoke in.
It wasn't just power.
It was memory — hers and not hers.
"I know him," she whispered, breathless, staring into the dark.
But how?
They'd never met.
He hadn't looked at her. Hadn't spoken her name. But something inside her — something buried — had cracked.
Not broken.
Opened.
"Entanglement Thread Strengthening: 42% → 66%"
[Unregistered Soul-Thread Detected.]
Potential Anchor: Iri // Anomaly Classification: Type-G Nullborn.]
Unseen to her, a sigil shimmered faintly across her back — inkless, but ancient.
The boy didn't run.
He walked through the lower cathedral district, through blood-lit streets and shattered wards. Patrols moved above and below, spell-drones shrieked across rooftops, and High Seers began casting wide-net identification rites.
But he was smoke between stones.
[Passive: Veil-Step — upgraded.]
Status: Undetectable unless touched. Time remaining: 03:47.
He had time.
But not much.
And the system… was changing.
[Notice: Curse Authority Leveling Unstable.]
Bound Curse "Hollow-Wombed Wail" has begun passive resonance. Mutation possible.
Potential side effect: Emotional bleed. Containment advised.
He exhaled slowly.
Emotion.
A weakness.
A risk.
And yet, in the moment he had erased Varl…
He had felt something.
Not anger. Not satisfaction.
Pity.
Unacceptable.
He pressed a finger to his temple.
"System. Engage Recursive Memory Lock — Segment: 'Varl' — purge emotional imprint."
[Confirmed.]
Emotion successfully isolated. Stored in Vault-7.]
He blinked once.
Then moved again.
He found her near the edge of the Prayer Ruins.
She didn't see him approach — not until he was already there, crouched silently beneath a shattered archway.
She spun, eyes wide.
He met her gaze.
Said nothing.
But something unspoken passed between them.
Recognition… without understanding.
"I know you," she whispered.
"No," he replied. "You remember me."
Her throat tightened. "That's not possible. We've never—"
"We've never met," he said, finishing the thought with uncanny precision. "Not in this thread. But memory isn't bound to time. Only to truth."
She stepped back. "You're with the Order?"
He laughed once — soft, bitter.
"I'm what the Order tried to forget."
The silence between them stretched — taut, fragile.
Then she asked the question she didn't mean to ask.
"Why did you save those children?"
He looked at her. Really looked.
And for the first time… something human flickered across his face.
"…Because I used to be one."
High above, hidden eyes watched.
A silent figure cloaked in runes, perched atop a prayer-spire, fingers weaving through the air like thread.
Her voice — unheard by either of them — echoed into the weave:
"Thread convergence confirmed."
"The Hollow Heir has found the Nullborn."
"Begin Phase Two."
From the east, five bells rang.
And beneath the city, something ancient stirred.