Everything was still.
The air, the light, the breaths… as if time had stopped only within this corner of the city.
Luin stood in the back alley, surrounded by a sickening silence, as though the world was holding its breath. His right hand still trembled from the aftermath of the fracture that had emerged from his skin, where the mark appeared—that engraved symbol, no longer merely a trace but a declaration of existence.
And with each pulse, he felt something within him changing… revolting… awakening.
⸻
Then came the voice.
It was smooth, yet unlike any human voice. Not heard by the ear, but felt in the bone.
"You've drawn closer… to the true opening."
Luin retreated half a step, his breathing rising. The alley walls seemed taller, narrower, as if closing in on him. The echo of his words, his thoughts, began reverberating without permission.
"I'm not ready."
"But you opened the door… and the door does not close once it has drunk from blood."
⸻
A shadow appeared in the opposite corner.
A man, tall, stepping with confidence and calm, as if time meant nothing to him. It was William, his appearance as usual: so ordinary it was strange, yet in his eyes was something that knew how to read the unspoken.
"They arrived before me this time." He said it while looking at the burnt patch on the wall, where traces of existence had vanished moments ago.
"Who?"
William approached, then pointed toward the mark carved on Luin's hand.
"The Soul Division."
"A church?"
"More than that… they're the part no one speaks of. If your mark appeared with this strength, then they will come… they always come."
⸻
Luin whispered:
"I… felt a voice."
William looked at him for a long moment, then said:
"You must learn to distinguish between the voice… and the echo."
⸻
[Hours later – in the heart of the White Church]
The candles do not melt here… but burn without permission, as if awaiting an order to perish.
In a circular room with walls cracked by sacred drawings, sat the High Priest of the Soul Division. His head was tilted as if listening to a voice only he could hear.
Before him stood a woman in white clothes with blue edges, in her hand a file sealed with symbolic wax.
She said in a dry, calm voice:
"The first interaction of the unlicensed seal has been confirmed. Sector Nine. Seal bearer: male, twenties, no noble record. Name: Luin."
The priest remained silent.
The woman continued:
"A shadow unit was sent to attempt restraint… the mission failed. There was external interference."
The priest raised his head, his eyes the color of ash:
"Who interfered?"
The woman whispered after a moment's hesitation:
"…An individual suspected to be William Cornell."
Everyone fell silent.
Then the priest said:
"William… the traitor. Alive."
Silence.
Then he pointed to the candle before him.
It extinguished.
He said with terrifying calm:
"Summon the Third Order."
⸻
The next day.
The wind was cold despite the sky being clear of clouds.
Luin walked through a narrow alley between two dilapidated buildings, their walls peeling like diseased skin, and the ground wet with stains that didn't resemble water.
His steps were slow, his mind weighed down by William's words from the previous night…
"The Church does not fall silent in vain."
Everything was quiet… more than it should be.
⸻
Then he stopped.
He heard nothing, but felt something… as if the void itself had begun crawling behind him.
He turned slowly. No one.
But he was not alone.
A tall shadow appeared on the wall before him, though the light source behind him hadn't changed.
The shadow didn't resemble him. Taller… thinner… and the arms in it were twisted backward like broken wings.
Then he heard the whisper:
"You are the third target. One more step… and the door will seal shut."
⸻
Luin gasped and retreated, but the ground beneath his feet disappeared for a moment.
As if the alley suddenly stretched and then swallowed him.
He didn't fall… but the scene around him changed. The walls became smooth, black, as if coated in ash.
The air filled with the echo of breaths that weren't his.
And a man appeared.
White-haired, pale-skinned, his eyes containing not eyes but small locks rotating slowly.
"Luin Erendal. Bound by an unnamed seal."
He raised his hand… and a black thread emerged from it, crawling toward Luin like a worm searching for a mouth.
⸻
But a shout shattered the silence:
"Get away from him."
The voice came from above, and its owner fell from the roof like a broken shadow.
He struck the strange man with a force that made the wall tremble… and William appeared.
With his calm features, but his eyes were burning.
He grabbed Luin's arm and pulled him:
"Run, and don't ask questions."
⸻
They ran through endless alleys, dodging doors that opened on their own, and shadows that walked without bodies.
William said while panting:
"These aren't priests… they're the Soul Division."
"They don't speak… they only listen. And if they hear you thinking, they'll break your mind."
Luin didn't answer. The seal inside him was throbbing, as if another heart had begun beating within him.
⸻
They jumped over a fence, entered a hidden cellar behind two shattered barrels.
William sat catching his breath, then looked at him:
"The Church chose you."
Luin replied with a choked voice:
"Then why are you here?"
A short silence.
Then William answered while pulling something from his pocket… an old piece of leather, carved with a circular symbol:
"Because I know what they do to those they choose."
⸻
Luin raised his eyes, finding not the shadow of fear… but the shadow of anger.
"This is just a fingertip?"
William smiled, bitterly:
"The Church hasn't opened its eye yet."
⸻
"When a wound touches another wound… both remember how they bled."
⸻
The air in the cellar was suffocating, filled with the smell of extinguished coal, and an ancient dampness that clung to the throat.
The walls were eroded, their paint peeling like dead skin, and the low ceiling warned that this place wasn't for survival, but for waiting.
Luin sat on a broken crate, watching his breath rise in the cold air.
Before him, William was securing the wooden door with a rusty bar.
He said in a low tone:
"They won't return tonight… but they'll find us if we stay too long."
Luin didn't respond. His eyes were fixed on something in William's hand.
A piece of leather with burnt edges, carved in its center with a circular mark, as if stamped with fire.
He approached, whispered:
"This… from your friend?"
He handed it to him without a word.
The moment it touched Luin's hand, he felt a sting rising from his left forearm…
A hot sting, as if a thread of ash suddenly ignited inside him.
He gasped. Tried to drop it.
But the leather stuck to his palm—not as an inanimate object, but as a living being awakening.
The symbol glowed with a pale redness, breathing as if it were an ember returning its heart to beating.
And in that same moment…
The seal on Luin's forearm ignited. It pulsed once… twice.
Then released an internal warmth as if another heart had opened in his chest.
William raised his hand attempting to pull the leather from him, but what he saw froze him in place.
The mark on the leather was fading… being erased.
And in return, it appeared on Luin's skin—but inverted.
A distorted circular symbol, coiling on itself like a snake devouring its tail, and the ends in it were severed.
An incomplete seal… refusing to be completed.
William whispered in shock:
"This is impossible…"
"What does it mean?" Luin muttered, his eyes on his forearm, his chest rising and falling.
William breathed deeply, then answered slowly:
"The symbol you saw is known as the Binding Seal. It was used in ancient times to link two individuals… like a shared covenant between bearers. But its inversion in this way… only appears when the internal entity of one of them refuses."
Luin looked at him, confused:
"Refuses it?"
William nodded:
"Meaning what's inside you… didn't accept this symbol. Rather, it attacked it. Pushed a larger part of itself to the surface… as if defending. Or threatening."
Luin pulled his sleeve, saw the symbol glow again… then fade.
Beneath it remained a double trace, like two hooked lines, as if something was about to emerge and couldn't.
He whispered:
"You said seals are doors that don't close… does this mean another door has opened?"
William shook his head:
"Not a door this time… a mirror."
Then he added in a quieter voice:
"And the mirror shows what should not be seen."
⸻
A heavy silence prevailed.
Luin's breathing became clearer than anything else.
Then William muttered, staring at the shadows behind Luin:
"The Soul Division thought your seal hadn't exceeded its limits. But after this… they'll escalate the matter to the Third Order."
He paused, then added with a dryness unlike his tone:
"They don't send evangelists… but judges."
The lamplight flickered, as if a non-existent wind passed over its flame.
And in their ears rang a distant chime… an unknown clock announcing the start of the count.
Luin said in an almost whispered voice:
"The closer I get to the truth… the closer they get to me."
William approached and placed his palm on Luin's shoulder.
His hand was warm, real, in a world where everything had become fluid and threatened with collapse.
"From now on, every step we take will be together. But there's a question you must answer, Luin… Do you want to know what's behind this mirror?"
"Or will you let it extinguish its light… and swallow you?"
Luin raised his head.
His eyes were still gray, but behind them… a black thread barely visible, pulsing with cold light.
He answered, in a low voice but without hesitation:
"If fear is the price of truth… then I'm ready to pay it."
⸻
In a dark corner of a stone temple underground, a place untouched by light for centuries…
A stone eyelid trembled.
A sacred flame suddenly wavered, as if an invisible wind passed through souls.
Then a voice rang out, belonging to no human:
"Third Order… to the shadow.
The target has shown an inverted mirror…
The Judge shall rule."
⸻
End of Chapter Ten.