Arc 4: Broken Mirrors
The sky above the northern plains was fractured — not in the literal sense, but in a way that made the world feel wrong, as though some unseen force had split the horizon into crooked angles. The clouds moved against their own shadows, drifting like broken pieces of a painting. Reiji had seen battlefields turned to mud and bone, cities sinking in flame, mountains cracked open by war — yet nothing unsettled him quite like the northern sky.
The Vanguard survivors marched behind him in a thin column, their footsteps muffled by the frost-covered soil. The farther they traveled north, the colder the world seemed, as if the land itself rejected human presence. Kaede walked at his side, her cloak pulled tightly around her, her breaths forming pale wisps.
They did not speak. Not because there was nothing to say — but because the echoes of last night's ambush clung to them like smoke.
The hunters were gone, evaporated into the mist as if their bodies had never existed. No blood, no corpses, not even broken steel. It was as if the attack had been a hallucination carved into reality.
Only Reiji knew it wasn't. The vision — the tower, the chains of light — still flickered at the back of his thoughts like a flame that refused to die.
Kaede broke the silence first. "We should reach the foothills by sunset. Beyond that…" She hesitated. "The Silent Spire is less than three days away."
Reiji nodded but didn't look at her. His focus remained on the distorted sky ahead. "The Spire will not hide forever."
Kaede studied him. "You saw something last night. Didn't you?"
He didn't answer immediately. The wind brushed past them like skeletal fingers.
Finally, Reiji murmured, "I saw the truth trying to crawl out."
Kaede's brows furrowed, but he offered no further explanation. Some things could not be put into words — at least not in any language that humans still spoke.
They continued their journey until they reached a ravaged outpost — its gates broken, its towers collapsed inward like ribs of a long-dead beast. The banners that once hung from its walls were reduced to threads dancing in the wind.
A remnant soldier approached Reiji. "Commander… this place was evacuated months ago. But the fires—"
Reiji didn't need the man to finish. Smoke rose from the chimneys, faint but unmistakable. Someone had been here recently.
"Spread out," Reiji ordered. "No noise. Check every building."
The Vanguard moved with practiced caution, fanning out across the courtyard. Kaede followed Reiji as he pushed open the door of the central hall. The hinges groaned like a wounded animal.
Inside, the air was warm — unnaturally so.
And on the far wall, drawn in ash and blood, was a symbol. A twisted circle intersected by four jagged lines.
Kaede inhaled sharply. "Reiji… that's—"
"I know," he said.
The Mark of the Codex.
He stepped closer. The lines pulsed faintly, as if reacting to his presence. Reiji's hand drifted unconsciously to his sword.
Kaede whispered, "Someone wants us to follow."
"Or to warn us."
"Which do you believe?"
Reiji's voice was steady. "At this point, I don't believe in warnings. Only traps."
Before Kaede could respond, a scream echoed from outside — cut short.
Reiji moved instantly, sprinting into the open courtyard. Snowflakes drifted lazily from the broken sky, gathering at his feet. But there, in the center of the square, lay one of his scouts — lifeless, eyes wide, no wound on his body.
The others formed a defensive circle. Their breaths trembled in the air.
Reiji knelt beside the body. "No marks. No blood. Heart stopped."
Kaede whispered, "Fear?"
"No." Reiji touched the scout's forehead — it was ice cold. "It's something else. Something that strips the soul but leaves the flesh."
A presence stirred behind them — a soft crunch of snow.
Every soldier turned.
A lone figure stood at the entrance of the outpost, wrapped in black, face hidden behind a cracked mask. The same kind of mask the hunters wore.
But this one… felt older. Wrong. As if the world itself bent slightly around it.
Reiji's hand went to his sword. "State your purpose."
The figure tilted its head. When it spoke, the voice was layered — as if a dozen whispers spoke at once.
"Shinomiya Reiji. You walk toward a truth that was buried for a reason."
Kaede stepped beside Reiji, daggers ready. "Who are you?"
"I am a fragment." The figure raised a hand. Frost crawled across the ground toward them in spiraling veins. "A memory of what the Codex has erased."
Reiji's eyes narrowed. "The hunters. You command them?"
"No." The masked head slowly shook. "They were born from the Codex's shadow. I am what remains of its light."
Reiji didn't trust a single word, but he kept silent.
The figure continued, "If you walk to the Silent Spire, you will not return the same. You will not return as you at all. The Codex has written your death more times than this world can count."
Reiji spoke coldly. "Then it failed every time."
The figure let out a sound — not laughter, but something adjacent, like glass cracking.
"Arrogance or ignorance — I cannot tell them apart in mortals anymore."
Kaede stepped forward. "If you want us to stop, then speak clearly. Why shouldn't we enter the Spire?"
The masked figure lifted its hand again — and the fractured sky above them shifted.
The clouds bent inward, spiraling into a shape — a colossal shadow, chained by four luminous bands. A tower.
The Silent Spire.
But not standing.
Falling.
Over and over, in an eternal loop.
Reiji felt something tug at his mind, a distortion pulling at his memories.
The figure whispered:
"Because the Spire breaks all who enter. It does not kill. It rewrites."
Kaede's breath caught. "Reiji…"
But Reiji's eyes were locked on the falling tower. His heart hammered like a drum. Something deep inside him — something ancient — resonated with the vision.
The figure lowered its hand, and the sky returned to its broken stillness.
"Turn back," it said softly. "Your shadow is not ready to face itself."
Reiji finally spoke.
"My shadow died long ago."
He drew his sword.
The soldiers tensed.
The air thickened.
The masked figure stood unmoving. "Then there is nothing left to save."
Reiji stepped forward — blade reflecting the frost-bitten light.
"You don't understand," he said. "I'm not here to be saved."
He lifted the sword.
"I'm here to end this."
The figure's mask cracked — a thin fracture running down the center. For a moment, golden light seeped from within.
"You cannot end what was written before your birth."
Reiji's blade pointed directly at it.
"Watch me."
The world seemed to hold its breath.
Then —
The figure dissolved into a swirl of black and gold dust, carried away by the wind. No corpse. No trace. Only a whisper that lingered on the air:
"Three days to the Spire.
Three days before your fate finds you."
The soldiers remained frozen, unsure whether they should mourn or run.
Kaede put a hand on Reiji's arm. "Reiji… are you certain about this?"
He didn't answer for several seconds. The frost reflected in his eyes like shards of glass.
Then, with a voice that held no hesitation:
"We continue north."
Kaede closed her eyes briefly not in agreement, but in resignation.
The Vanguard began moving again.
And above them, the shattered sky shifted once more as if something behind it was waking up.