Veins of the Forgotten
Snow drifted softly across the ruins as Tsukihana sat beside a dying fire. Morning hadn't come, but she couldn't sleep. The wind was quiet, but her thoughts were loud.
Renjiro slept nearby, blade resting against his shoulder. He had agreed to take the first watch but passed it to her when his energy finally ran out.
She didn't blame him.
What they saw in that tomb… what they barely escaped…
Her body still ached from the Hollow's presence. Not physically — but deeper, like her bones remembered something ancient. Something they weren't supposed to carry.
She stared at her hands.
The purple Veinlines had faded, but she could still feel them beneath her skin. As if they were hiding, watching, waiting.
"What am I?" she whispered.
A gust of wind answered.
Not words. But something carried with it — a soft whistle like a breath, and a single voice, faint and fading:
"They never buried us… because they never let us die."
She stood quickly, heart pounding.
There was no one around.
Still, she cannot shake the feeling she was being watched.
Meanwhile — The Reignborn Facility
Far from the mountains, across frozen plains and dying rivers, a hidden fortress stood beneath the ruins of an ancient city. Built underground, far below the eyes of the Five Provinces, it was once a failed stronghold of the Stone Clan — now repurposed by something darker.
Inside, glowing capsules lined the walls. In them floated warriors — some young, some old — all unconscious. Their Veinlines flickered in different colors, none stable, none complete.
In the center chamber, the silver-eyed clone awoke inside his tank.
He didn't panic.
He didn't speak.
He simply opened his eyes — and the entire room dimmed, reacting to him.
The man in white robes stood before him, expression unreadable.
"He's stable," said a voice from the shadows. "That's the third successful imprint."
The robed man nodded. "Better than expected."
Another voice, sharper and colder, stepped out from the back.
A woman. Tall, face hidden behind a crimson mask, her arms wrapped in bandages that glowed faintly with Hollow symbols.
She walked to the clone's tank and stared into his eyes.
"Can he fight?" she asked.
The robed man answered, "Not yet. His Veins are still aligning. But the memory core has fused properly."
"Does he remember?"
The man hesitated.
"He remembers… being Akarui."
The woman's masked head tilted slightly. "But he's not."
"No," says the man. "He's better."
Back in the Mountains — Tsukihana and Renjiro
Renjiro stirred as the sun peeked through the clouds.
Tsukihana had already packed up.
"We need to move," she said. "Someone's coming."
He blinked. "You sense them?"
"I don't know how. I just… feel it."
Renjiro didn't argue.
They traveled quickly through the snow-covered ruins, avoiding open paths. The goal was simple: escape the Sky Province and head east, where rumors of other Mirror Vein carriers had been spotted. If Tsukihana could find others like her, maybe they could explain what was happening to her body — and why she seemed to be the only one the Hollow Vein hadn't consumed.
They had just reached a canyon ridge when Renjiro stopped.
Tsukihana followed his gaze.
Below, barely visible through the fog, stood a caravan of masked figures — cloaked, silent, and heavily armed. They carried strange weapons shaped like bone and metal. Floating alongside them were containers — sealed coffins, carried by glowing chains.
"They're moving test subjects," Renjiro muttered. "Reignborn clones."
She stiffened. "That's where the Hollow energy was coming from."
He nodded. "They're experimenting again. Trying to create Hollow warriors without using real Veinborn."
"How many are down there?"
"Too many for us."
Tsukihana clenched her fists. "We should stop them."
"Not without a plan."
But before they could turn back, the sky cracked.
A bolt of energy — purple and silver — exploded in the air above the caravan.
The Reignborn froze.
Then from the ridge behind them, someone landed.
Tsukihana's eyes widened.
It was a boy. No older than seventeen. White cloak. Silver eyes.
And a face that looked… familiar.
Too familiar.
"That's—" she gasped.
Renjiro's face went pale. "It can't be…"
But it was.
Standing among the Reignborn, the boy who had just leveled half the caravan with a flick of his wrist… was Akarui.
Or someone who looked just like him.
Tsukihana whispered, "Is that the real one?"
Renjiro didn't answer.
Because the boy turned slowly — and looked straight at them.
Not through them.
At them.
And he smiled.
"Run," Renjiro said immediately.
Tsukihana hesitated. "But—"
"I said RUN!"
The boy raised his hand.
The sky split again.
Lightning — shaped like a claw — ripped through the clouds and came down toward the ridge where they stood.
They leapt back just in time as the stone shattered beneath them.
Tsukihana rolled down the side of the cliff, landing hard near a frozen tree. Her leg twisted, but she pushed herself up.
Renjiro was beside her, already limping.
The snow began to rise.
No — not snow.
Ash.
The air burned hot suddenly.
A voice — the boy's — echoed through the canyon.
"Daughter of the Hollow… your heart is still too kind."
She looked up, trembling.
"How does he know that name?" she asked.
Renjiro's voice was hard. "Because whoever that is… they didn't just take Akarui's face."
He turned to her.
"They took his memories."