Her mother's hand gripped Lucien's wrist—firm, urgent.
"We're going to the Soul Realm."
Lucien blinked.
"What? Why?"
Her mother didn't answer right away.
She pulled her through the twisted village ruins until they reached a forgotten altar, half-swallowed by roots and shadow.
"That's where you'll find the truth," she said, eyes glowing faintly.
"Who you are. What you're meant to be."
She turned to her daughter, voice shaking.
"And daughter of mine… please be careful."
"I don't have much time left. So we have to hurry."
Lucien's breath caught.
"What do you mean—"
But before she could finish, her mother pulled out a ceremonial knife—
A jagged, obsidian blade.
"Wait—what are you—"
Slice.
She cut her own palm, blood dripping onto the altar.
Then, a whisper.
A haunting chant in a forgotten tongue.
The world responded.
The fog churned. The earth trembled.
And slowly—a doorway opened.
A swirling rift of colorless flame.
The Gate to the Soul Realm.
Lucien stepped back, stunned.
"You're coming too, right?"
Her mother smiled—sad and knowing.
"Don't worry about me. I'll find my way."
Lucien hesitated, her heart pounding.
But just as she took a step forward—
They appeared.
Three figures. Towering. Pale-eyed. Armor of bone and smoke.
The Guardians of the Soul Realm.
They landed without sound, surrounding her mother.
"You do not belong here."
"You entered without permission."
Lucien turned, panicked.
"Wait—no! She's with me! She—"
But her mother held out a hand, calm.
"Go, Lucien."
"No!"
"GO."
The Guardians moved.
And before the gate could seal,
Lucien saw it—
Her mother, drawing the obsidian blade again—
Facing three eternal beings… for her daughter.
And then—
The gate shut.
Silence.