The walls of the chamber trembled violently, splintering as deep crimson cracks snaked across their surface. The Obelisk behind us pulsed erratically, the light within it flickering like a dying heartbeat. Every pulse sent tremors through the ground, shaking the floor beneath us.
Charlotte pushed forward first, her boots skidding against the breaking stone as she forced herself toward the exit. Lucien turned, his grip tightening around Mira's wrist.
"Now, Mira!" His voice was sharp, urgent.
But she didn't move.
She was frozen in place, her entire body trembling, her wide, panicked eyes locked onto me.
"No," she whispered, shaking her head violently. "No, no, no—"
Lucien didn't hesitate. He pulled her forward. "We don't have time for this!"
A broken, shuddering breath escaped her, and finally—finally—she ran.
The ground collapsed behind us.
---
The corridors were no longer the same.
They twisted and shifted as we ran, the walls stretching, distorting, closing in on us. The veins of crimson light that had once flickered faintly now burned, pulsing violently like something alive. Shadows crawled along the floors, slithering up the walls, warping into grotesque, shifting forms.
The estate was fighting back.
Lucien led the way, his sword still drawn, his movements precise and unrelenting. He never slowed, never hesitated, cutting down any twisting tendrils of shadow that reached for us. Charlotte was close behind, her breaths shallow, her posture tight with exhaustion, but her sword was still steady in her hand.
Mira's grip on me was painfully tight.
I could feel her arms trembling, her chest rising and falling in rapid, uneven breaths. Every time the walls twisted, every time the shadows moved, she flinched violently, her grip tightening even further.
"This place—" Her voice was barely above a whisper, but I could hear the raw panic beneath it. "Lucien, it's—"
"I know."
Lucien didn't stop. He didn't look back. His focus was entirely forward, entirely on the path ahead.
But then—
The corridor shifted again.
And something stepped out of the darkness.
---
The Crimson Apparition
It wasn't just a shadow.
It wasn't just a monster.
It was something else.
A towering figure emerged from the shifting dark, its elongated limbs unnaturally thin, its entire form shifting, glitching—like it wasn't supposed to exist in this reality. Its face was the worst part.
Because it didn't have one.
At least, not one that stayed the same.
One moment, it was nothing more than an empty void-a featureless abyss where a face should have been. The next, it changed, shifting rapidly between distorted, flickering images of different faces, some human, some not, their expressions frozen in twisted mockeries of pain, of despair, of hunger.
And then, it spoke.
A voice that wasn't a voice at all.
Not sound.
Not speech.
Something inside my head.
"The anchor is mine."
Mira stiffened. Her breath hitched, her entire body locking up in an instant.
Lucien reacted first.
His sword was already moving before the creature could take another step. The blade sliced through its arm, cutting through it like mist-but it didn't stop.
The wound closed instantly.
And then, the Apparition laughed.
A soundless, twisted noise that rattled through the air like a broken whisper.
"The vessel cannot resist."
And then, it attacked.
Lucien's sword cut through the air in a flash of silver, but the Apparition was already shifting. Its body bent in a way that shouldn't have been possible, contorting around the strike, slipping through the space between seconds. The blade passed through where its shoulder should have been, but there was no impact-just an empty, warped flicker, as though the thing had never been there at all.
Lucien didn't stop.
His footwork adjusted mid-motion, shifting the weight of his body into the next strike. He pivoted sharply, his heel grinding into the stone floor as he slashed upward-this time for the neck. The Apparition twisted. The featureless void where its face should have been snapped to the side at an unnatural speed, dodging at the last possible second.
Lucien exhaled sharply, his breath controlled. His muscles didn't tense. He didn't hesitate.
Again.
A feint. A flick of his wrist, a misdirection, a shift in stance to bait the creature into overextending. And the instant it moved-
The real strike.
A clean, perfect diagonal cut. A movement honed through years of battle. Flawless.
The Apparition phased.
The sword passed through nothing.
Lucien's eyes narrowed, sharp as a blade. His breathing was steady, but there was a thin layer of sweat forming at his brow. His grip on the sword didn't waver. But the Apparition was... wrong.
It wasn't dodging.
It wasn't blocking.
It wasn't even regenerating.
It had never been hit.
Charlotte moved.
A heartbeat. That's all the time it took. The instant Lucien's sword met nothing, she was already diving in.
She moved with ruthless efficiency, every movement precise, merciless, fluid. Her blade came down with a sharp, brutal arc, aimed at the Apparition's midsection, the momentum behind it enough to cleave through steel-
The Apparition disappeared.
A flicker. A pulse of warped space. And suddenly, it was behind her.
Charlotte barely had time to react.
A whisper of movement-
Then its hand was around her throat.
Charlotte gasped. The sound was raw, choked, strangled as the Apparition lifted her effortlessly off the ground. Its grip tightened.
Her sword clattered to the ground.
Her legs kicked, struanling, but there was no purchase, nothing to push against. Her fingers scratched at the Apparition's hand, trying to pry it off, but it was like trying to pull apart solid iron.
Lucien moved instantly.
No hesitation.
His sword was already in motion, a strike aimed directly at the Apparition's wrist.
The blade connected.
The severed hand fell to the ground.
Charlotte hit the floor a second later, gasping for air, coughing violently.
But the Apparition...
It laughed.
There was no pain in the sound. No frustration. Just amusement.
Lucien's grip on his sword tightened. A drop of sweat slid down the side of his face. His breathing remained steady, but there was something different in his stance now. He knew.
This wasn't a fight.
This was a game.
And the Apparition was playing with them.
Then, its head snapped toward me.
Mira's grip on me tightened-so hard it hurt. Her fingers dug into my skin, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts.
The Apparition tilted its head. Studying. Watching. And then, it spoke again.
"Caelum."
Mira froze.
Her entire body locked up, her breathing ragged, almost panicked.
"You don't belong to them."
A sound came from her throat. A quiet, broken noise. Something too close to a sob.
Lucien didn't hesitate.
His blade tore through the Apparition's chest, carving deep, this time meeting resistance.
The Apparition screamed.
The walls shook. The very air around us distorted, warped, bent out of shape. The sound wasn't something that could be heard -it was something that pushed into my skull, ripped through my mind like static screaming in my bones.
And then, I felt it.
The system flickered to life.
[Activate Spectral Echo.]
Pain exploded inside me.
A sharp, searing agony that burned through my chest like white-hot fire. My entire body convulsed. My skin felt like it was splitting open, my breath was ripped from my lungs as something surged outward.
A shockwave of raw power.
It hit the Apparition directly.
For the first time-
It staggered.
Its form glitched violently, limbs twisting at impossible angles, its faceless void of a head snapping back as if the force had torn into something vital. The flickering became erratic, its body warping, distorting, breaking apart.
A flicker.
A step backward.
And just like that-
It was gone.
But the cold it left behind wasn't.
---
Silence.
Heavy. Suffocating.
Mira was shaking.
Her breath came in quick, uneven gasps, her chest heaving, her arms trembling violently around me. Her fingers dug into my back, curled so tightly into my blanket that her knuckles had turned white.
Charlotte coughed, rubbing at her bruised throat, her breaths still ragged and uneven. Lucien didn't say anything. He just stared at the spot where the Apparition had disappeared, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like his teeth might crack.
And then—
The system flickered in my mind again.
A single message.
Cold. Unrelenting.
[Final Trial Approaches. Prepare the Anchor.]
The crack on my chest glowed.