Selene's fingers traced the sigils carved into the massive gate, her magic flickering as it reacted to the ancient bindings. These weren't ordinary seals—they were woven into fate itself, meant to erase not just a man, but his very existence.
Reinhardt stood beside her, sword drawn. The air around them grew heavy, suffocating, as if the prison itself resisted their presence.
Selene exhaled sharply. "This is going to take a moment."
Reinhardt's grip on his sword tightened. "Then I'll make sure we have it."
The moment she began unraveling the spell, the prison stirred.
______________________________________________________________________
The Bastille Fights Back
The walls groaned, shifting like a living thing. The whispering prisoners in the cells around them went silent. A deep, guttural noise—**not quite a growl, not quite a scream—**echoed through the corridor.
Then, the shadows moved.
Figures poured from the walls, not prisoners, not human, but something else—sentinels made of broken time, their forms flickering between shapes, as if they had no true form.
Selene cursed under her breath. "They're guardians of the seal. They won't stop unless the gate is closed again."
Reinhardt didn't hesitate. He rushed forward, meeting the first creature head-on. His sword struck true—but the blade passed through empty air.
The creature's form rippled, then solidified just long enough to strike. A dark tendril lashed out, catching Reinhardt across the chest and sending him crashing against the stone floor.
Selene kept working. The sigils on the gate began to flicker, unraveling one by one. "Keep them off me!"
Reinhardt gritted his teeth, pushing himself up. The creatures were shifting constantly, never fully tangible, never fully real.
But then—he noticed something.
Each time they moved, for a split second, their forms stabilized. Just before they struck.
That's the window.
Reinhardt took a deep breath, steadying himself. The next creature lunged—this time, he waited. At the last moment, when its body solidified, he struck.
His sword connected.
The creature let out a terrible shriek, its form unraveling before vanishing into the air.
Selene shot him a glance. "Figured it out?"
"Mostly," he muttered, adjusting his stance. "How's the seal?"
Selene's magic flared, the last sigil breaking apart. "Almost—"
A sudden shockwave burst from the gate, sending both of them staggering back. The chains of fate snapped, one by one, dissolving into dust.
Then—the doors groaned open.
The darkness beyond was absolute. Cold. Silent. Endless.
And at its center, standing as if he had been waiting all along, was Varian the Hollow.
His silver hair was long and unkempt, his robes tattered, but his golden eyes burned with the weight of knowledge no man should possess.
He stepped forward, his voice a low rasp. "So… the world has need of me again."
Reinhardt wasn't sure if that was a good thing.