The fortress-city of Myr's Reach stood at the edge of the known world, where civilization met the unnatural. It wasn't built to defend against men, but against things no one spoke of. Lucian and Selene arrived at dusk. The towers, carved with ancient wards, glowed faintly under the setting sun. No birds flew here. No insects buzzed. Even the wind held its breath.
Lucian's face remained expressionless, but Selene could feel his tension like heat from a furnace. The memories from the Prophet's vial haunted him still. And now, they were here—to find the Gate. The one Valen had passed through. The one connected to the ancient being that gave him new life.
"This place feels cursed," Selene muttered.
Lucian nodded. "Because it is."
They passed through the silent outer gates. Soldiers watched them from the walls, but no one greeted them. Inside the city, streets were narrow and twisted, buildings pressed together like they were hiding secrets.
Their contact waited in an old cathedral—half-buried, yet pulsing with residual magic. The air inside was colder than it should've been.
"Lucian," a voice called from the altar's shadows.
A man stepped forward. He wore a priest's robe, but the symbols etched onto it were old. Older than faith.
"Dorian," Lucian acknowledged. "You're still alive."
"Unfortunately," Dorian said with a dry laugh. "But I hear you're trying to fix that problem."
Selene glanced between them. "You're the Gatekeeper?"
"Keeper, Guardian, Watchdog—depends who you ask." Dorian's tone turned serious. "But yes. I guard the Threshold. And you're here to cross it."
Lucian nodded. "We need to know what's waiting on the other side."
"You won't like it."
"I already don't."
Dorian turned and lit three candles in a circle. As the flames flared, an invisible seal etched itself into the stone floor—geometric, shifting, like it was alive.
"There's a price."
Lucian stepped inside the circle. "I've paid more than most."
Dorian looked at Selene. "Then she pays this one."
Lucian's eyes narrowed. "No."
"She carries balance," Dorian said. "You? You're chaos incarnate. The Gate won't open for you unless something else holds it shut."
Selene didn't hesitate. "What do I have to do?"
"Step into the circle and speak your true name."
Lucian moved to stop her—but Selene held up a hand. "I choose this, Lucian. We either find answers… or we stay blind."
Reluctantly, he nodded.
Selene stepped in.
She whispered her name.
The world shivered.
Reality peeled away.
They were no longer in Myr's Reach.
They stood on a bridge made of bone-white stone, suspended over a void. The sky pulsed with inverted stars. Giant glyphs floated in the air—changing shape, spelling words that didn't belong in any language spoken by men.
Lucian gritted his teeth. The pressure here was immense—like something was watching from just behind the veil.
A whisper curled around his mind.
"You return, stray child..."
Selene stumbled. "Lucian, something's wrong…"
He turned—and froze.
Selene's shadow was gone.
Instead, something else stood beside her. Same form. Same face. But its smile was wrong.
"Selene!" he shouted, grabbing her arm and pulling her back.
The fake Selene hissed—and disintegrated into smoke.
She clung to him, trembling. "It tried to wear me."
Lucian nodded grimly. "That's what lives beyond. Echoes. Parasites."
They pushed forward.
At the bridge's end stood a door—black, etched with molten runes, radiating power.
Lucian approached.
It pulsed.
And opened.
Inside was not a room—but a field of stars. At its center hovered a being—not solid, not liquid, but shifting. Eyes blinked across its surface. Some human. Some... not.
Lucian spoke first. "You're what brought him back."
The being answered with silence—and then, a voice that came from everywhere and nowhere.
"He offered belief. You offer resistance. Both nourish us."
"What are you?"
"We are what you call gods. But we are not divine. We are hunger made eternal."
Lucian stepped forward. "You made a deal with Valen."
"We answered his call. He built the gate. He pays in souls."
"And if I kill him?"
"Then you take his place."
Lucian froze.
Selene's hand gripped his.
"No," Lucian said. "I'll break the cycle."
The being laughed—a sound that shattered stars.
"You are the cycle, child of war."
And then—
They were falling.
Back.
Out.
Lucian gasped as he slammed into his body, back in the cathedral.
Dorian caught them both. "You saw it?"
Lucian nodded, shaking.
"I know what Valen did. And I know how to stop him."
Selene's voice was hoarse. "But?"
Lucian's eyes burned.
"It means becoming what I hate. Unless I can find another way."
Dorian looked at them with something close to pity. "Then you better move fast."
Lucian stood, fire in his blood.
"No. I'll move smart."
The return from the Threshold hadn't left them unscarred. Though their bodies remained intact, Lucian and Selene both bore the unseen marks of their journey—dreams bent at wrong angles, whispers beneath silence, memories slightly off from what they remembered.
Back in their quarters inside Myr's Reach, Lucian sat shirtless, inspecting his chest in the mirror. A thin, glowing mark now crossed his heart like a brand, pulsating faintly with every heartbeat.
Selene noticed. "That wasn't there before."
Lucian nodded. "I think the Gate marked me."
"Or the thing beyond it."
She poured water into a basin and handed him a cloth. "Either way, it sees you now."
Lucian wiped the sweat from his neck. "Then let it see what happens when I look back."
Later that night, a knock on their door interrupted the tension. It was Dorian again, this time holding a sealed scroll.
"From the Archives," he said. "One of the texts mentioned something you might want to see."
Lucian broke the seal. Inside, he found a sketch—ancient, faded, but unmistakable.
A symbol. The same one carved into the altar Valen had stood upon the night he resurrected in the capital.
"What is this?"
"The original Gate," Dorian said grimly. "Not the one Valen used. The first. Buried beneath the capital city. Long forgotten. Until now."
Lucian's eyes narrowed. "And now Valen's drawn a circle around it."
"Worse," Dorian said. "He's preparing to open it fully."
Selene leaned in. "He's building a second Threshold?"
"No," Dorian corrected. "He's planning to merge this world with the one beyond."
Two days later, Lucian, Selene, and a small task force rode out under cover of night. Their destination: the ruins beneath the old palace. According to the texts, a labyrinthine network of tunnels once served as a temple to the old gods before the first empire erased all mention of them.
They found the first entry point just beyond a dry well outside the city.
The descent was tight. Cold. Wet with condensation. And completely silent.
"No rats. No insects," Selene whispered.
Lucian checked the hilt of his sword. "They know better."
The tunnel opened into a chamber. At its center was a massive door carved into black stone—identical in design to the one they'd seen beyond the Threshold.
Symbols glowed faintly on its surface. Active. Recent.
Lucian crouched to examine them. "This wasn't dormant. Someone's already begun the rites."
Selene's dagger slid from its sheath. "Then he's close."
A voice echoed through the chamber. "Closer than you think."
Valen stepped out from behind one of the broken columns. He looked… human. Clean. Beautiful. But the way light bent around him said otherwise.
Selene lunged—but the world froze.
Literally.
She hung mid-air. Lucian stood locked, blade half-drawn.
Valen walked slowly toward them, hands clasped behind his back.
"You returned from the Threshold," he said with a smile. "Impressive. I thought the first visit might break you."
Lucian struggled against the stasis, muscles screaming.
"Oh, don't bother," Valen said. "This is just a temporal pause. A gift from my patron."
He leaned in close to Lucian.
"They showed you what's coming, didn't they?"
Lucian growled, "You're a puppet."
Valen didn't flinch. "We all are. The difference is—I chose my strings."
He placed a hand over the glyphs.
The door rumbled.
"You could still join me, brother. We'd burn the gods and reshape the world in our image."
Lucian's eyes blazed. "I'm not your brother."
Valen smiled.
"You will be."
And then, time snapped back.
Selene hit the ground hard, cursing. Lucian raised his blade—but Valen was gone.
In his place, the door now bled black smoke.
Lucian turned to the group. "Seal this place. No one gets near it without my say."
Dorian stepped forward. "If he opens it—"
"He won't," Lucian said coldly. "Not while I breathe."
Selene touched his shoulder. "What now?"
Lucian stared at the door, his voice calm and lethal.
"We go to the capital. We expose him."
The capital of Eldrath was burning.
Not with fire, but with fear. Whispers spread like plague through the taverns, marketplaces, and barracks: the High Oracle had disappeared, nobles were being replaced overnight with puppets, and a new monument had begun rising in the center of the city—a black obelisk of smooth, unnatural stone.
Lucian stood atop a hill just outside the city walls, overlooking it all. The obelisk glowed faintly even in daylight.
"Valen's not hiding anymore," he muttered.
Selene tightened her gloves. "He wants them to see. He's turning the people into worshippers."
Lucian frowned. "That thing is a conduit. He's feeding it."
Dorian approached, winded from the climb. "We've confirmed it—his cult calls it the Spire of Union. They believe it'll connect this world with the realm beyond."
Lucian turned to him. "Then we bring it down."
By nightfall, they infiltrated the city through an abandoned aqueduct. It reeked, but it bypassed the sentries who now wore the crimson sigils of Valen's new order.
Inside, Eldrath felt alien.
Posters of Valen—taller, radiant, eyes glowing with false divinity—plastered the walls. Citizens moved quickly, eyes down. The sky felt wrong. Heavier.
Selene guided them to a hidden cellar used by loyalists. A dozen resistance fighters stood waiting, armed and tense.
"You've seen the Spire?" one of them asked.
Lucian nodded. "We're not here to marvel. We're here to kill a god."
Silence.
Then nods. Firm. Steeled.
Plans were drawn quickly.
Valen was due to appear atop the Spire during the midnight hour, supposedly to unveil "the new dawn." That would be their only shot.
Selene would lead a ground team to collapse the base using siphoned arcane charges.
Lucian would scale the Spire itself. Alone.
"I won't let you go alone," Selene argued.
Lucian pulled her close, resting his forehead against hers. "If I fail, you must bring it down. Promise me."
She didn't answer. Only kissed him hard.
Midnight.
The Spire loomed like a spike in the heavens, glowing veins pulsing up its obsidian length.
Lucian moved fast, dodging sentries and scaling hidden handholds carved by early worshippers. The climb was brutal. Icy wind cut at him, but he pushed higher.
From below, Selene watched, her team planting charges at key support points.
The crowd gathered, faces turned upward in awe and horror.
Atop the Spire, Valen waited—cloaked in dark robes, arms raised to the stars.
"You came," he said without turning. "I felt you the moment you entered the city."
Lucian stepped onto the platform. "I told you—I'd end this."
Valen smiled. "You still think this is about you and me."
"It always was."
Valen turned. "Then allow me to show you what you truly are."
He thrust out a hand—and Lucian's world shattered.
Visions.
Lucian fell through them like broken glass.
—A throne of bone, crowned with his own skull.
—Selene kneeling before him, chained, eyes hollow.
—The world split in half, darkness flowing like blood.
—Valen standing beside him, not as enemy, but as ally.
Lucian screamed.
And then—a voice. Not Valen's.
A whisper like thunder. "Choose."
Lucian reached deep.
And refused.
The illusions burned away.
He stood—bruised, bleeding, but himself.
Valen looked shocked.
"You rejected it?"
Lucian charged.
Their blades clashed, light and shadow colliding, shaking the tower. Sparks flew. Spells cracked the sky. Every strike was a battle of wills.
Then—
A rumble from below.
Selene had triggered the charges.
The Spire trembled.
Lucian tackled Valen, driving them both off the edge—
And fell.
They crashed through broken stone, rubble, and memory.
When the dust settled, only one man rose.
Lucian, covered in blood, stepped out of the wreckage.
Valen was gone. Whether dead or scattered into the other realm, none could say.
But the Spire was no more.
And the stars looked normal again.
Eldrath was silent.
No cheers. No bells. Just silence.
The ruins of the Spire smoldered at the heart of the capital, broken obsidian shards littering the streets like shattered prophecy. Smoke curled into the stars above.
Lucian emerged limping, armor torn, blood caked on his face. His eyes scanned the chaos, searching—
"Selene!"
He found her half-buried under debris. Her hand moved weakly.
"Lucian…" she coughed. "You did it."
"We did it." He pulled her free, holding her as tightly as he dared. "You kept your promise."
"And you survived." She smirked. "Didn't expect that."
He laughed, even as tears fell.
Around them, others crawled from hiding. Loyalists. Citizens. Even former cultists who now looked lost, their trance broken with Valen's fall.
But the air was still thick. Like something unfinished.
Dorian arrived minutes later, bruised but alive.
"We've confirmed it," he said. "Valen's body… vanished."
Lucian's face hardened. "So it's not over."
"No," Selene said, standing with effort. "But it's ours now. Not his."
A Week Later
Eldrath was rebuilding.
The streets were still cracked, and grief hung heavy, but something new stirred—hope.
Lucian walked the halls of the ruined citadel, now repurposed as a command post. Maps lined the walls, detailing cultist remnants, rogue magic zones, and the lingering effects of the Spire's influence.
He entered the war chamber. Selene was already inside, speaking with Dorian and a mage councilwoman.
"The tear he opened—it's still there," the mage said. "Dormant. But unstable."
Lucian nodded. "We need to seal it before something comes through."
Selene crossed her arms. "We'll need more than swords."
Dorian tossed him a scroll. "Ancient rites. Forbidden ones. But they might work."
Lucian caught it. "Then we learn fast."
That night, he climbed the Spire ruins alone.
He looked at the scarred sky, the flicker of darkness that pulsed beyond the veil.
"I know you're not dead, Valen," he muttered. "But next time… I'll be ready."
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