The climb back to the surface took twice as long as the descent.
The air grew thinner, the pressure lighter—but the silence heavier.
Raen said nothing the whole way.
He walked with the sealed Veinblade strapped to his back, wrapped in layers of rune cloth that shimmered faintly. It should have felt heavier than it did. But somehow, it seemed to carry him, dragging his thoughts deeper with every step.
Behind him, Nira adjusted the containment case for the scroll array. Her brow furrowed. "The sword tried to form a pact with you."
Raen didn't respond.
"That only happens with living soul-blades. This one's not just cursed—it's… intelligent."
Still, he said nothing.
Talin clapped a hand on Raen's shoulder at the summit. "You gonna brood forever, Whisper Boy, or say something heroic for the record?"
Raen finally looked up.
His silver eyes were dull. "I'm thinking."
Talin smirked. "Dangerous habit."
---
The trio arrived at the Vohar Clan's outer hall at sunset.
Guards at the gate stiffened as soon as they saw Raen—and more importantly, the bundle strapped to his back.
One ran inside without a word.
The other spoke: "Elder Maenor wishes to see you. Immediately."
Talin muttered under his breath, "Called it."
---
📍 Inner Hall, Vohar Clan Estate
Elder Maenor stood at the center of the hall, hands clasped behind his back. His hair was silver, his robe a deep crimson trimmed in black—a symbol of the inner circle. His gaze was not warm. Nor was it openly hostile. It was worse.
It was calculating.
"So," he said, "the boy returns not only alive, but carrying a sealed weapon of the Second Age."
Raen stood tall. "The mission was completed. The Vault is closed. The sword is bound."
Maenor approached slowly, circling like a hawk above a mouse. "What I see is a crippled exile walking into my hall with a soul blade that once wiped out four sects during the Collapse Era."
Nira stepped forward. "He contained it. If not for him—"
Maenor held up a hand. She fell silent.
"The Crimson Fang seeks you," he said to Raen. "You've been marked. And now, so have we."
Raen's grip tightened.
Maenor continued. "You were warned once not to meddle in Whisper Arts. You chose defiance."
Raen's voice was low. "I chose survival."
A pause.
Then Maenor smiled—but it did not reach his eyes.
"Very well. You will no longer be treated as an outcast."
Raen blinked. "What?"
Maenor turned to the gathered scribes.
"Effective immediately, Raen Vohar will be reinstated as an Outer Disciple, with provisional rank. His performance will be monitored. Should he show signs of corruption, he will be purged."
Raen said nothing.
Because he understood.
This wasn't trust.
This was a leash.
---
Later, outside the estate, Talin exhaled slowly. "Congratulations. You're now an official pawn again."
Raen nodded. "Doesn't matter. I got what I needed."
Nira crossed her arms. "Which was?"
Raen looked to the sky.
"Access."
---
📍 Somewhere Far Beyond the Vohar Peaks
In a mist-laden cave, a figure in red and bone robes knelt before a shimmering mirror of blood.
The reflection showed Raen—holding the Veinblade.
A rasping voice spoke from the void:
"He has heard the first scream."
The figure nodded.
"The coil tightens. Shall we approach?"
A second voice—female, elegant, cruel—answered:
"No. Let him grow. Let him think he has a choice."
And the mirror shattered.