---
The cave did not welcome me back.
Its walls loomed close, rough and damp, leaking silence into my bones. I paused at the threshold, breathing slow, listening to the drip of water somewhere deeper within. My mark pulsed on my palm… soft, but insistent, as though reminding me that every breath I drew carried the abyss with it.
I crossed the threshold anyway, stepping into the darkness. Not to hide… but to feel. Even the blackness had weight here, a quiet that wrapped around me like a cloak.
I sank to one knee, pressed my hand into the dirt floor. Cold seeped through the fabric of my cloak, but my skin felt only the faint warmth of the mark. A third fragment glowed inside me now… a small spark that had grown overnight. It was not hot. Not painful. Just a reminder that something stirred beneath my flesh.
I closed my eyes.
And listened.
---
Hours passed. I did not move.
The forest above rustled with life, but down here… time had forgotten me. I heard the winding of roots, the slow drip of drops from hidden caverns. I imagined the earth shifting. A distant heartbeat, not mine. Maybe the world itself, breathing around me.
When I rose, the cave had changed. The air felt thinner. My cloak clung to me as though pulled inward. I brushed dirt from my knees and stood, feeling older. Something had passed through these walls with me. A whisper of purpose.
I stepped outside into the dawn light. The forest greeted me with birdsong and wind. It seemed eager… almost relieved… to see me again. My shadow stretched long across the stones. It did not hesitate or flicker. It simply trailed behind me.
Yet I felt eyes.
Not from above. Not behind. From within the wood. A thousand tiny points of awareness in each leaf, each root. Not malicious. Curious.
And I welcomed it.
---
I did not revisit the seal. Not yet.
Instead, I wandered deeper into the valley. The cliffs receded, hills curled around me, leading me down to a wide plain where the grass grew tall and wild. Flowers I did not know bloomed in clusters, white and purple petals trembling in morning dew. The air smelled faintly of salt, though the sea was leagues away.
I knelt to examine the flowers. A curious thing, how beauty could grow without invitation. The petals were soft as silk, but when I touched them, they wilted, darkening at my touch. Not burned… not rotten… collapsed inward, a silent surrender.
I let them fall. I did not mourn them.
Because nothing here would obey me, save the abyss within.
---
A pebble skittered at my side.
I froze.
A figure emerged from the grass, tall, draped in white robes edged with silver. No crest on their chest… no staff at their hip. Just raw presence. Eyes like polished obsidian against ivory skin.
They did not speak. They did not move beyond stepping into my path.
I met their gaze. The world narrowed to the space between us. The wind held its breath.
> "You walk without light," a voice said inside me. Not mine. Not the abyss. Something neutral, ancient.
My heart thudded. I did not flinch.
They lifted a hand, slender and bare.
> "But you carry darkness as a guide."
I nodded.
> "Why do you walk alone?"
I did not answer aloud. I did not need to.
My shadow flickered across the grass.
The figure watched.
> "You could join the light," they said softly. "Stand with the ones who still believe in Heaven's mercy."
I looked down.
> "Heaven did not refuse me," I whispered. "It never reached for me."
They dipped their head once. Almost in sorrow.
> "Then choose your path," the voice said within. "But know this… the gaze of the abyss sees what Heaven cannot."
The figure stepped back, faded into the morning haze, leaving no footprints, no scent. Only questions.
---
I pressed on, mind racing.
My first encounter with something… or someone… unbound. No sect affiliation. No beastly malice. Just a presence that tested me. The abyss within responded with a faint hum, like a chord struck in the depths.
My third fragment glowed again.
Not bright… but enough to pulse against my skin.
I halted at the edge of a brook where the water rushed white over smooth stones. I knelt. Lapped my tongue at its cool flow. I stared at my reflection. The mark on my palm looked like a scar beneath flesh. Faint, but real.
And something else: my eyes.
They held a depth that was not there before. A darkness that reflected more than light could offer.
I swallowed.
---
Night fell, and I made camp beneath a weeping willow whose branches swept the ground like mourning hands. I did not light a fire. The moon floated pale above, a solitary eye watching over ruined lands.
Sleep came slow. My mind replayed the morning's encounter. The figure in white. The voice that was not the abyss. A test, I thought. Or an invitation.
In dreams, I stood again before the seal. The broken chain lay at its center. In my hand, I held it. It pulsed. I looked up. The statue's hollow eyes bled light.
And then… a whisper.
> "See what you become."
I woke with a jolt. My heart raced. The willow branches rattled like bones. I pressed a hand to my chest. My breath trembled.
When morning came, I stood and gathered my cloak tight. My path… remained unchosen.
---
I moved toward a ridge where the valley opened again. The cliffs parted into a terrace carved by centuries of wind and rain. There, I glimpsed movement. A group of three, high above on a rocky perch. Their robes were a patchwork of sect colors: green, black, and gold. Weapons at their sides. Eyes scanning the wood.
I crouched in fern-shadow, watching. They did not see me. But I sensed their purpose. A patrol sent after the rumors. After the mark. After me.
My mark pulsed warmer. A fourth fragment stirred.
I drew back into the trees. I did not want them to find me. Not yet. I wanted to understand first.
The abyss within whispered approval.
---
Late that afternoon, I found my way to the old shrine by the ruins. The stones still smoldered where they'd burned. The ashes had scattered with the wind. Only the base remained. A half-carved basin, cracked and chipped.
I knelt and placed both hands on its edge. The abyss pulsed fiercely.
> "Return," it said. "Touch what they destroyed."
I hesitated. I had avoided this place. Avoided the mark's echoes. Avoided the pain of memory.
But now… I needed it.
I pressed my palm into the ash-filled basin. The remnants of shrines long burned clung to my fingers. I closed my eyes, and the abyss answered.
---
Visions came.
A mother's outstretched hand, vanished into flame. A blade slicing through chains that bound a child. A crowd of stoic faces, turned away from a fallen boy.
Pain seared through me. Not from the mark. From empathy. From knowing that this cycle had echoed before me.
And then… the final vision.
An empty shrine, restored by hands that were not mine. Fresh carvings around the basin. New markings woven between old ones. A single handprint… unblemished.
Then silence.
---
I opened my eyes.
The abyss was still. The mark glowed faintly.
Yet I felt different. Less alone.
Someone… had walked this path after me. Or before me. Someone who carried the mark, survived the fire, and rebuilt what had been broken.
Hope… was not lost.
---
That night, I lay beneath the willow again. The fragments around my palm glowed in turn. Not bright… but insistent. Seven pieces, they said. I had awakened four. Three remained.
I closed my eyes and whispered into the dark:
"I will finish what they started."
The abyss pulsed. A single throb.
> "Then walk on… with eyes that never close."
And I slept.
---