The wind over Hollowhill Cemetery had a voice.
It whispered through cracked statues, howled between crooked headstones, and sang lullabies to the dead. Most people never heard it.
Cael did.
He always had.
He sat on the edge of an old, unmarked grave, boots muddy, hands tucked into the sleeves of a patched coat that had once belonged to his father. A rusted shovel lay across his knees — not for digging, but for defense. Things moved in Hollowhill after dark. Things with bones and teeth and names no one dared speak.
He didn't come here for comfort. He came here because it was the only place where he could think.
The only place the dreams didn't follow.
Until tonight.
---
The grave beneath him exhaled.
It was soft — a puff of earth, a shallow breath of ash and cold — but Cael felt it through his spine.
He stood quickly, shovel in hand. The soil shifted.
And then the voice came.
Not from the grave.
From inside his mind.
"Gravekeeper blood detected."
"Codex initializing..."
"Tomb I unlocked."
Cael staggered back.
A glyph flared across the grave — a glowing mark of bone-white light in a language he'd never seen but somehow understood.
"The Sword Saint sleeps here. Do you dare disturb him?"
A second heartbeat echoed through the earth — not his own.
And then the voice returned:
[Skill Obtained: Deadblade Art – First Form: Silent Slash]
[Warning: The dead remember everything… including betrayal.]
---
The ground cracked.
A skeletal hand burst from the dirt, gripping the hilt of a shattered sword. The air turned heavy with ancient magic — and rage.
Cael didn't run.
He couldn't.
The Codex had chosen him.