The Anchor was gone.


    The moment stretched in silence, the night pressing heavy against the ruined waystation. The air still carried the weight of its presence, but now there was nothing. Just the open road, the whisper of wind through the trees, and the unanswered question hanging between them.


    Alden shifted beside him, his grip still tight on his blade. "That’s it? No fight, no chase, just cryptic bullshit?" His voice was low, edged with frustration.


    Raine barely heard him. His mind was still tangled in the remnants of the dream—the endless space, the way Kael had stood frozen in it.


    Your path diverges.


    It wasn’t a threat. It was a choice.


    And they had already started walking it.


    "We’re following it," Raine muttered, more to himself than to Alden.


    Alden scoffed. "Following what? The giant silent bastard who just walked off?"


    Raine exhaled sharply. "We don’t have a choice."


    Alden shot him a glare. "We always have a choice."


    Raine shook his head. "No, we don’t. If we keep going blind, we’ll run straight into the Arcanum’s hands. They’re waiting for us, steering us. That thing—" he motioned in the direction the Anchor had gone, "—wants something different."


    Alden muttered a curse, kicking at a loose stone. "Fine. But if this ends with us dead in a ditch, I’m haunting you."


    Raine didn’t respond. He was already moving.


    They traveled through the night.


    The road the Anchor had taken wasn’t a road at all—just a stretch of wild terrain, overgrown and uneven. And yet, Raine felt something pulling them forward.


    A feeling at the edge of his awareness, like a thread tugging at the back of his mind. It wasn’t the Abyss. It wasn’t magic.


    It was something else.


    Alden didn’t ask questions after a while. He grumbled, cursed under his breath when the brush got too thick, but he followed. Maybe he felt it too.


    Then, just as the first pale hints of dawn touched the horizon, they saw it.


    A ruin.


    Not the crumbling remains of another waystation, not a lost village swallowed by time—this was different. This was buried.


    Stone arches, half-broken and covered in moss, rose from the ground like jagged bones. The entrance had been sealed at some point, but the passage had cracked open, revealing a dark, yawning space beyond.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    Raine’s pulse quickened.


    Alden frowned. "No one’s been here in years."


    "That’s the point," Raine murmured.


    The Anchor had led them here for a reason.


    And now they were going to find out why.


    The air inside was thick with dust, stale but not lifeless.


    Raine stepped carefully over broken stone, his breath shallow. The walls were lined with old carvings, faded beyond recognition. This place had been hidden—not just by time, but by intention.


    Alden moved beside him, running a hand over the markings. "What the hell is this place?"


    Raine didn’t answer. He was focused on something else.


    Something deeper.


    At the end of the corridor, the space opened into a vast chamber. At its center stood a pedestal, and atop it—


    A book.


    Raine’s breath caught.


    Not just any book.


    This was Arcanum script.


    Alden stiffened. "That’s not good."


    Raine stepped forward, drawn to it. The Abyss whispered at the edges of his mind, but not with hunger. With recognition.


    This book was old. Older than anything he had ever seen. And yet, the pages were untouched by time, sealed beneath layers of protective enchantments.


    He reached for it—


    The moment his fingers brushed the surface, the world shifted.


    A shock of energy pulsed outward, not violent, but deep. It hummed through the chamber, through the stone, through his skin.


    And then—


    The seal unraveled.


    The magic didn’t break. It didn’t shatter.


    It was undone.


    Like it had been waiting for him.


    Raine exhaled sharply, his pulse hammering in his ears.


    Alden swore. "You’re telling me you know how to open Arcanum locks now?"


    Raine didn’t answer.


    Because he hadn’t forced anything. The book had let him in.


    The pages fluttered slightly. Then—words formed, shifting across the surface like ink bleeding into place.


    Raine read.


    The Anchors were never meant to kill.They were created to hold reality in place.The first Abyss-touched was not erased, but buried.They do not fear destruction. They fear awakening.


    Raine’s hands tightened on the edges of the book.


    The Arcanum had rewritten history.


    They had made Anchors into executioners, but that wasn’t their purpose. They weren’t just hunting Abyss-touched. They were preventing something.


    Something that had already happened before.


    Alden read over his shoulder, his face darkening. "This doesn’t tell us where Kael is."


    Raine swallowed. "No. But it tells us why they took him."


    Alden gave him a sharp look. "And that is?"


    Raine closed the book, exhaling slowly.


    "They think I’m going to wake something up."


    Alden muttered a curse.


    Then, suddenly—


    A sound.


    Not from the chamber.


    From above.


    Raine’s head snapped up just as he felt the shift in the air.


    The Arcanum had arrived.


    Alden pulled his sword. "No way in hell they just happened to find us here."


    No. They hadn’t.


    They had been following.


    The moment Raine had unraveled the seal, the Arcanum had known.


    And now they were coming to erase them.


    Raine clenched his jaw, stepping back from the pedestal, the weight of the book still in his hands. He had come here for answers.


    Now he was going to have to fight to keep them.


    <hr>