The fire had burned low, throwing weak flickers of light against the ruined walls of the waystation. Raine sat with his back to the cold stone, his knees pulled up, his hands curled into fists. His body begged for rest, but his mind wouldn’t quiet.


    Something felt wrong.


    The wind whistled softly through the cracks in the collapsed roof, the sound hollow and distant. It was the first time they’d stopped moving since the Weaving Society had burned, the first moment of stillness. But stillness didn’t feel like safety. It felt like waiting.


    Kael was seated near the entrance, sword balanced across his knees, his gaze distant. Alden lay further back, sprawled on a bundle of old cloth, arms crossed behind his head. He hadn’t spoken since they stopped, but Raine wasn’t sure he was actually asleep.


    They were fugitives. Hunted. A manhunt should have been relentless. So why hadn’t they seen anyone?


    Kael hadn’t voiced the question, but Raine knew he was thinking it. The silence between them carried weight, thick with something unspoken.


    Kael finally broke it.


    "We’re not running." His voice was low, quiet. "We’re being led."


    Alden let out a dry scoff, not opening his eyes. “By who?”


    Kael didn’t answer.


    Raine shifted uncomfortably. He wanted to disagree, to say Kael was just being paranoid. But Kael was never just paranoid.


    The Arcanum’s forces weren’t just tracking them. They were steering them.


    Alden exhaled sharply and sat up. "Then let’s not go where they want us to."


    Kael shook his head. "We don’t have a choice."


    Raine stiffened. He hated how right that sounded.


    Alden sighed. “Well, at least we’re not dead yet.”


    No one responded to that.


    Eventually, the fire faded to embers. Kael didn’t sleep. Alden drifted off after an hour. Raine stayed awake as long as he could—


    But exhaustion always won.


    And when it did—


    The Abyss took him.


    Raine dreamed.


    It wasn’t like the other times.


    This time, it wasn’t pulling him under.


    It was showing him something.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    A cold, open space stretched out before him. Not a void—a structure. Something vast, ancient, impossible to understand. The air inside it was still—the way a mausoleum was still, where no living thing was meant to tread.


    And Kael was there.


    Raine’s breath caught.


    Kael wasn’t bound by chains. There were no visible restraints. But he wasn’t moving.


    He was standing in the center of that vast space, his body taut, his eyes unfocused, his breath barely visible.


    Not struggling. Not fighting.


    Like he had been put there.


    Then—


    A voice.


    Not the Abyss.


    Something older. Measured.


    "Your path diverges."


    Raine tried to step forward—and the world twisted.


    The space between him and Kael stretched, pulling impossibly far.


    Kael turned. His lips parted, as if he was trying to say something—


    And then—


    The vision collapsed.


    Raine woke with a sharp breath.


    His chest heaved, his pulse hammering.


    The fire had burned down to the last embers, the ruins quiet around him.


    Something was wrong.


    He turned his head sharply—


    Kael’s seat near the entrance was empty.


    No footprints. No tracks leading away.


    No sign of a struggle.


    Just gone.


    Raine’s stomach twisted.


    Alden stirred beside him, blinking blearily. “What—?” Then he saw the empty space.


    His expression darkened instantly.


    Raine barely heard him.


    His pulse roared in his ears.


    He reached for the Abyss, for that lingering whisper of the dream—for anything.


    But there was nothing.


    Raine’s pulse hammered against his ribs as he stepped out of the ruined waystation, his breath fogging in the cold night air. The ground felt too still beneath his feet, like the world itself was waiting.


    Kael was gone.


    Alden moved beside him, his expression unreadable, his hand hovering near the hilt of his blade. “I don’t like this.”


    Raine barely heard him. His mind was still trapped in the dream, in that endless, still place where Kael had stood, unmoving.


    Your path diverges.


    The words curled in his mind, foreign and unwanted. He clenched his jaw, pushing them away. He couldn’t afford doubt. He couldn’t afford hesitation.


    "We have to move," Raine muttered.


    Alden frowned. “Where? We don’t even know what happened.”


    Raine exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. He had no tracks to follow, no signs of struggle—just absence.


    The last time someone had vanished like this was when the Anchor had appeared.


    His stomach twisted.


    “What if he didn’t leave?” Raine murmured.


    Alden stiffened. “You think they took him?”


    Raine shook his head. “Not just they.”


    Alden’s frown deepened. He opened his mouth to argue—then froze.


    The air shifted.


    A pressure settled over them, something vast and silent. It wasn’t the oppressive weight of the Arcanum’s magic. It wasn’t the unnatural pull of the Abyss.


    It was something watching.


    Raine turned sharply—


    A shadow stood at the edge of the trees.


    Not moving. Not approaching. Just waiting.


    The Anchor.


    Alden’s sword was half-drawn before Raine grabbed his wrist. “Don’t.”


    Alden shot him a glare, but he didn’t move.


    The Anchor tilted its head slightly, the only motion it had made. The space around it felt wrong—not like it was unraveling, but like reality was being held still.


    Raine swallowed. “Where is he?”


    No answer.


    The Anchor simply stood there, the silence stretching, the weight of its presence pressing down like a stone in Raine’s chest.


    Raine’s hands curled into fists. “You took him.”


    The air hummed.


    Not a sound. Not a vibration. But something deeper—something just beneath perception.


    Then, finally—


    “You are walking the wrong path.”


    Raine’s breath stalled.


    The Anchor hadn’t spoken. Not in words, not in sound. But the message was there, sinking into the marrow of his bones.


    Alden stiffened. “What the hell does that mean?”


    Raine forced himself to step forward, his heart pounding. “Where is he?”


    The Anchor didn’t answer.


    It simply turned—and walked away.


    Not attacking. Not pursuing.


    Leaving.


    Alden let out a sharp breath. “That’s it?”


    Raine stared after the figure, his pulse still racing. “No.” His voice was quiet. “That was a warning.”


    Alden scoffed. “A warning for what?”


    Raine didn’t answer.


    Because he already knew.


    This wasn’t over.


    It was just starting