Chapter:2
The House of Eyes loomed in the suffocating fog, a decrepit structure at the very edge of Cindralis. Its jagged windows and crooked spires gave the unsettling impression of a slumbering beast, watching, waiting. Arlan clutched the journal tighter, the words "Seek the Key in the House of Eyes" etched in his thoughts.
Beneath the fog, whispers of dread clung to the streets. People spoke of the "Bindings," ancient contracts that tethered mortals to powers beyond comprehension. Arlan's brand, now faintly pulsing on his forearm, marked him as someone on the verge of a Binding—an irreversible pact between the ordinary and the unfathomable.
Arlan hesitated at the gates, his thoughts churning with unease. Bindings were rare in Cindralis, feared by commoners and sought after by desperate elites. His family had warned him of the dangers—of the madness that claimed the Bound.
The journal seemed to hum faintly in his grip, pulling him toward the decaying house. He pushed the iron gate open, its rusted hinges groaning, and stepped onto the overgrown path. The sigil above the door—a single unblinking eye—seemed alive, tracking his every move.
As he approached, the brand on his arm burned hotter. The Veil, a metaphysical boundary separating reality from the Anchors' realms, felt thinner here.
The door creaked open on its own. A faint whisper brushed against his mind: "Enter, and let your eyes see.
The interior was suffocatingly dark, illuminated only by the faint glow of the sigils etched into the walls. The paintings of eyes followed Arlan's every move. The brand on his arm pulsed, pulling his attention to a rune glowing faintly in the far corner.
The journal's pages fluttered open. A new line had appeared: "The House sees you. Do not falter."
Arlan took a step forward. The sigils on the walls pulsed in unison, the air thick with tension. He could feel the Veil bending, warping, as if the house itself was connected to an Anchor.
As Arlan ventured deeper, shadows flickered at the edges of his vision. The atmosphere grew heavier, the whispers louder. He turned, and suddenly, a figure emerged from the darkness—a man draped in tattered black robes, his face obscured by a mask bearing a grinning skull.
"Ah, a fresh recruit," the masked figure said, his voice echoing eerily. "You've wandered into the House of Eyes, haven't you? How quaint."
Arlan instinctively stepped back, raising his hands. "I mean no harm. I'm just looking for—"
The figure cut him off with a laugh. "Looking for power, are we? Or perhaps you wish to learn the price of such folly?" He advanced, his presence suffocating, and with a flick of his wrist, a blade of shimmering light materialized in his hand.
"I don't want any trouble!" Arlan protested, feeling the pulse of his brand quicken, a warning of the danger closing in.
"Too late for that," the figure snarled, lunging forward.
Arlan barely had time to react. He twisted to evade the attack, the blade slicing through the air where he had stood moments before. Panic surged through him as he stumbled back, the realization dawning that this was no ordinary adversary.
---
The masked figure smirked, reveling in Arlan's fear. "You think you can simply walk into the House of Eyes and claim its secrets without consequence? The Bound do not simply seek power; they are consumed by it."
Arlan glanced around, searching for an escape, but the room had shifted, the walls seeming to close in as the eyes painted on them glared hungrily.
"You've awakened the Catalyst," the figure continued, lunging again. "And now you must face the consequences. Do you even know what it means to be Bound?" He struck again, this time slicing through the air with a force that sent Arlan reeling.
With desperation, Arlan retaliated, summoning the energy from his brand, feeling its heat surge through him. He hurled a wave of energy at the figure, but it dissipated like smoke, revealing the man standing unharmed.
"The Binding transforms you, yes," he taunted, "but it also marks you. You have no idea what it means to bargain with an Anchor, do you? Your powers will demand a sacrifice, and until you understand that, you're merely a puppet dancing on a string."
Arlan stumbled back, confusion and fear swirling within him. "What do you want from me?"
The masked figure tilted his head, eyes glinting with malice. "To teach you, of course. You see, I am one of the Ascended. I've walked the path of Bindings, tasted their power, and the price of my folly is etched on my very soul."
With that, he lunged again, but this time, Arlan was ready. He sidestepped, pushing off against the wall. The room warped around him, the air shimmering with strange energy
"Foolish boy," the figure sneered, launching an array of energy blades that cut through the air. Arlan ducked and dodged, the space twisting with every movement, but he was aware of the truth now—the Binding was both a gift and a curse.
"Your first Binding is a mere glimpse," the figure yelled, his voice filled with rage. "Without understanding, you'll end up like me—a Hollow, stripped of humanity, merely a shell of what once was."
Arlan, now fueled by both fear and anger, felt the brand burn hotter. In that moment, he understood. He had to fight not just for survival but to grasp the depths of the power he had unwittingly sought.
Gathering every ounce of energy, Arlan focused. He felt the brand pulse in rhythm with his heartbeat, and he called forth the energy in his core, shaping it into a wave of force directed at the masked figure.
"Enough!" he shouted, unleashing the power he barely understood. The energy surged forward, colliding with the figure and sending him crashing against the wall.
---
As the dust settled, the figure glared at Arlan, his expression twisted in pain and anger. "You think this is over?" he spat, struggling to rise. "You are but a novice, a child playing with flames. The House has its eyes on you now, and you cannot escape your fate."
With a final, furious roar, the figure vanished into the shadows, leaving Arlan panting, shaken. The sigils on the walls pulsed gently, almost as if they were watching, waiting for him to decide.
The echoes of the encounter reverberated in Arlan's mind. He had glimpsed the dark allure of the Bindings and the peril that lay ahead. Power came at a price, and he had only just begun to understand the depth of the world he had stepped into.
As he stood alone in the Hall of Eyes, the weight of his brand felt heavier than ever, and Arlan knew that whatever lay ahead, he had no choice but to confront it head-on.