Chapter 9 — The Whispering Mountain
The northern horizon split open like a scar.
Aaryan stood before a range of jagged peaks, their crowns hidden by thunderclouds that bled silver rain. Each strike of lightning illuminated a mountain at the center—taller, darker, older than the rest. The locals once called it Vaen-Kura, the mountain that remembers.
The air here was alive. It hummed in his bones, whispering fragments of forgotten tongues. Even the snow carried sound, sighing beneath his feet as if repeating old prayers.
Aaryan's cloak flapped in the wind. Behind him, the plains had vanished beneath mist. Ahead, the world narrowed to one path, a trail of black stones that wound upward like a serpent. The Sha Essence inside him stirred, pulsing in rhythm with the storm above.
> "Do you hear it?" the whisper coiled through his mind.
"They buried truth beneath this mountain. Dig deep enough, and it will bury you in return."
He ignored the warning. Power called him forward.
---
The climb began in silence.
No beast cried here, no wind truly moved. The air thickened the higher he went, pressing against his lungs like invisible chains. The mountain seemed alive, watching every motion.
At the third ridge, he found ruins—pillars half-swallowed by ice, each carved with sun symbols split by a single line of shadow. He brushed frost from one and read the inscription:
> "Here rest those who served the Eighth Flame,
whose light burned even the gods."
His chest tightened. The Eighth Flame… his past self's legacy perhaps, the sun that had fallen. He felt the Sha Essence vibrate violently, almost in recognition.
A gust of wind howled through the broken halls, forming words that were not his own:
"Return what was taken."
Aaryan's eyes narrowed. "Then show me what was lost."
The ground beneath him cracked.
---
He fell.
For an instant, weight disappeared, replaced by blinding dark. When he landed, there was no pain—only stillness. He stood in a vast cavern lit by faint strands of blue flame that floated in mid-air like souls. A thousand statues lined the walls, all kneeling toward a stone altar at the center.
Upon that altar rested a shard of obsidian. It pulsed softly, like a heart.
He stepped closer, and the statues began to whisper. Their voices overlapped, hundreds of tones—men, women, children, beasts—all chanting the same phrase:
> "Eighth Sun, awaken."
The shard trembled. Shadows leaked from it, spreading across the cavern floor. His reflection in the stone showed not one face but many—warriors, kings, monsters—all fragments of something ancient and broken.
> "These are your echoes," the Sha murmured.
"Every life that bled for your name."
Aaryan reached out, fingers inches from the shard—then the air screamed.
The whispers turned to roars, each statue opening its mouth, releasing torrents of spectral flame. The cavern filled with wailing light. His mind buckled; memories not his own tore through him.
He saw cities kneeling under twin moons, armies slaughtered beneath banners of gold. He saw a figure—himself—standing atop a burning sun, eyes darker than eternity.
Then everything went silent.
---
When sight returned, he was kneeling before the altar, breath ragged. The shard floated above his palm now, melting into liquid shadow and sinking into his skin. His veins flared black for a heartbeat, then calmed.
Information flooded him—not words, but instinct. A technique.
He spoke its name under his breath: "Eclipse Vein."
At his command, his blood itself could devour light, drawing power from anything that shone. Dangerous, intoxicating… forbidden.
He rose slowly, the mountain's heartbeat now echoing with his own. The cavern trembled in approval—or warning.
> "You claim what once ruled the heavens," whispered the Sha Essence.
"But every throne comes with chains."
Aaryan smirked. "Then I'll break the throne as well."
---
The tremor grew violent. Cracks split the cavern ceiling, revealing the night sky far above. Through that wound, lightning speared downward, striking the altar. The blast hurled Aaryan back, but the Eclipse Vein awakened fully—dark veins radiating across his body, drinking the light before it could burn him.
When the glow faded, he stood untouched amid ruins of molten stone.
Outside, the storm had changed color. The clouds burned crimson, lightning black as ink. Across the continent, cultivators paused mid-meditation, sensing an impossible surge.
In the Celestial Court, oracles coughed blood.
In forgotten temples, ancient relics shattered.
And somewhere deep beneath the oceans, a chained deity opened one eye.
> "The Heir has taken his first step," a voice thundered across realms.
"The Eighth Path breathes again."
---
On the mountain's summit, Aaryan looked down at the trembling world. His aura spread like a shadowed flame, touching valleys and skies alike. For the first time since his rebirth, he felt whole. The loneliness of the plains was gone, replaced by purpose.
He whispered to the wind, "If the heavens fear my return… they should start praying."
The snow around him melted into mist. The peak itself seemed to bow. Above, the storm parted just enough for a single star to pierce through—the last fragment of the fallen sun.
Aaryan turned away from it, cloak whipping behind him, and began his descent. The whispers followed, softer now, almost reverent.
> "Eighth Sun… rise again."
---