Rael's footsteps echoed through the empty streets of the ruined city as the morning sun fought to pierce the thick clouds. The world felt different now—heavier, darker, as if the shadows themselves were watching him.
He kept replaying the visions in his head: the figure's cryptic warnings, the flashes of destruction, and the revelation that the Anchors were fragments of something far more dangerous.
"Fragments of a greater whole."
The idea gnawed at him. He had spent months trying to master the Anchor, believing it was a tool to help him survive, to rise above the life of a scavenger. But what if it wasn't a gift? What if it was a piece of something that should never have been touched?
As he turned a corner, Rael froze.
In the middle of the street stood a man. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with pale skin that seemed to glint like polished marble. His dark hair was tied back, and his eyes were a piercing, unnatural blue that seemed to glow faintly in the dim light.
But what drew Rael's attention was the weapon in his hand.
It wasn't like Rael's Anchor, which shifted between shadow and steel. This weapon was a long, jagged blade made of crimson crystal, its edges radiating a faint, pulsing light. The weapon hummed with power, and the air around it seemed to ripple as if reality itself was struggling to contain it.
Rael instinctively summoned his Anchor, the blade materializing in his hand with a hiss of shadow.
The man's lips curled into a faint smile. "So, you're the one."
Rael tightened his grip on his weapon, his heart pounding. "Who are you?"
The man took a step forward, his movements fluid and deliberate. "A collector, of sorts. And it seems I've found a particularly interesting piece." He gestured toward Rael's rune-marked hand. "You're carrying the Eclipse, aren't you?"
Rael's blood ran cold. "How do you know about that?"
The man chuckled. "The Anchors aren't as secret as you think. Those who possess them are drawn to each other—whether by fate, instinct, or something else entirely. And when one of us awakens a fragment as powerful as the Eclipse… well, let's just say it sends ripples through the Void."
"Void?" Rael echoed, his mind racing.
The man tilted his head, as though amused by Rael's ignorance. "You really don't know, do you? The Anchors aren't just weapons—they're pieces of the Abyss. Fragments of a power that predates this broken world. Each one carries a shard of that ancient force, and each one grants its bearer a piece of its truth."
He raised his crimson blade, letting its glow intensify. "My Anchor, the Bloodspire, grants me dominion over life itself. With it, I can drain vitality, bend flesh, and even command the dead."
Rael swallowed hard. The weight of his own Anchor seemed to grow heavier in his hand.
"What do you want?" he asked, his voice steady despite the fear gnawing at him.
The man's smile widened. "It's nothing personal, boy. I've been tasked with collecting fragments like yours. The powers that be don't like it when someone awakens something as dangerous as the Eclipse."
Rael took a step back, his instincts screaming at him to run. But the man was faster.
In an instant, he was in front of Rael, his crimson blade slashing through the air. Rael barely had time to react, raising his Anchor to block the strike. The clash sent a shockwave through the street, shattering nearby windows and sending debris flying.
The man's strength was overwhelming. Rael's arms trembled as he struggled to hold his ground.
"You're not bad," the man said, his tone almost conversational. "But you're inexperienced. You don't even know the full extent of your Anchor's power, do you?"
Rael gritted his teeth, pushing back with all his strength. "Why don't you enlighten me?"
The man laughed, a deep, resonant sound. "Very well."
He stepped back, giving Rael a moment to catch his breath. Then, with a flick of his wrist, the Bloodspire erupted into a flurry of crimson tendrils. They lashed out like whips, striking with terrifying speed and precision.
Rael moved on instinct, his Anchor morphing into a shield of shadow. The tendrils struck the shield, each impact sending a jolt of pain through his arm.
But the man wasn't done. The tendrils shifted, circling around Rael like a pack of predators. He could feel their energy pressing against him, suffocating and oppressive.
"Focus," the Eclipse Fiend's voice echoed in his mind. "The Anchor isn't just a weapon. It's an extension of your will. Use it."
Rael closed his eyes, letting the Fiend's words guide him. He reached out with his mind, feeling the shadows around him. They weren't just a defensive tool—they were alive, waiting for his command.
When he opened his eyes, the shadows surged.
Tendrils of darkness erupted from the ground, colliding with the Bloodspire's crimson whips. The street became a battlefield of light and shadow, the two forces clashing in a chaotic dance.
For a moment, Rael felt a surge of hope. He was holding his own.
But then the man's expression shifted, his amusement replaced by something colder.
"Impressive," he said, his voice tinged with mockery. "But you're still just a child playing with powers you don't understand."
He raised the Bloodspire, and the crimson light intensified, consuming the tendrils of shadow. Rael barely had time to react before the man was upon him again, his blade slicing through the air with deadly precision.
Pain erupted in Rael's side as the blade found its mark. He staggered back, clutching his wound as blood seeped between his fingers.
The man lowered his weapon, his expression calm. "You're not ready to wield the Eclipse. But don't worry—I'll make sure it finds a more suitable bearer."
Rael's vision blurred as he sank to his knees, the world spinning around him. The last thing he saw before darkness took him was the man's cold, glowing eyes.