Dawn broke reluctantly over the Vale of Terns, light seeping through the shattered skylines like an apology. The air hung heavy, pulsing with the residue of power and blood. Mo sat at the edge of the cracked observatory, the Azure Shamshir resting across his knees, the blue of its blade dulled.
He had not slept.
Aylen stirred first, her movements slow but measured. A deep cut trailed down her thigh, hastily bandaged with strips of her cloak. She sat beside Mo, gaze drifting to the horizon. "That thing—it watched us. Even when it bled, it didn't fight like it meant to win."
Mo nodded. "It wanted to learn."
Veyr joined them, clutching his arm, now bound tight with alchemic cloth. "And it's not alone. The Woken don't summon one guardian. They call them in pairs. Sometimes more."
The fire crackled low behind them. Mo looked at the trail leading deeper into the broken sanctuary. Veyr's intelligence had been right—there was a central temple hidden beneath the old monastery ruins. If the Woken had set a beacon there, it could pull more creatures into this world, perhaps even one of the Pale Choir—the beings beyond the rift who'd never been meant to walk mortal ground.
They descended at midday.
The stairs wound downward in spirals, carved into the earth and time. Each step bore inscriptions—songs of eternity, laments for lost gods, warnings etched in tongues older than any nation. The deeper they went, the colder the air became, like walking into the lungs of a corpse.
Torches flickered to life along the wall as they passed, unbidden.
"They know we're coming," Aylen whispered.
Mo remained silent. The Shamshir glowed faintly.
At the base of the spiral, a great door awaited them—twelve feet tall, obsidian-black, veined with molten silver. In its center, the image of a tree burning from its roots, crowned by a blood moon.
Veyr exhaled slowly. "That's it. That's the Choir's Gate."
The door opened without a push.
Inside, the chamber was circular, its ceiling domed with glass that looked out upon an endless night sky—though no stars shone. At its center stood a dais, and upon it, bound in crimson chains, was a child.
No older than ten.
Eyes open.
Mouth sewn shut.
Aylen's hand flew to her blade. "What kind of monsters—"
"Not a child," Veyr said. "Look at the bindings. That's an Echo Vessel."
Mo stepped forward, senses sharpened. He could feel it now—the faint thrum of power humming in sync with his blade. The vessel was a conduit. Not alive. Not fully. The Woken were using it as a lodestone.
Before they could move further, the chamber darkened.
The Pale Warden returned—but this time it did not come alone.
From the walls, shadows peeled themselves into shape—four, five, six figures. Veiled in tattered robes, eyes glowing with feverish gold. The Woken had arrived.
One stepped forward, arms outstretched. Her voice echoed unnaturally. "We greet you, Bearer of Flame. You carry the last spark of the First Star. Lay it down, and we shall spare your kind."
Mo didn't answer. He stepped onto the dais.
"You defy the Choir?" the cultist asked, voice rising.
"I silence them," Mo replied.
He swung.
The Shamshir ignited mid-arc, and time slowed. Aylen and Veyr followed, steel clashing with sorcery. The Woken screamed—an inhuman sound that curdled blood and cracked bone. But Mo had trained in silence, bled in shadows, and emerged from battles that left gods wary.
The Warden struck, its hand piercing stone where Mo had just stood. The Azure Shamshir met its blow—and for the first time, the Warden reeled.
Aylen's blades found one cultist's throat, while Veyr unleashed a rune-glass explosive that vaporized two others.
Then, silence.
Only the Warden remained, and it bled smoke and light. It lunged for the child.
Mo moved.
He drove the Shamshir through its heart. A burst of blue flame erupted, and the Warden screamed—not aloud, but inside their minds.
And then, it was gone.
So was the vessel.
The bindings lay broken. The child's body had dissolved into ash, swirling upward into the false night sky.
Mo fell to his knees, exhausted. Aylen stood beside him, silent.
Veyr stared at the ash. "The breach is sealed. For now."
Mo looked up.
"For now isn't enough."