Chapter 120 - THE VEIL OF OBSIDIAN ECLIPSE

Author Note: Once more, there are two versions of this chapter. One with the weird font, and the other not.

Chapter 120 - THE VEIL OF OBSIDIAN ECLIPSE

"𝕺𝖍... 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖍𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖓'𝖙 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖉?" The voice slithers through the air like smoke—untraceable, unplaceable.

"𝕳𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖉 𝖜𝖍𝖆𝖙? 𝕯𝖔𝖓'𝖙 𝖙𝖊𝖑𝖑 𝖒𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊'𝖘 𝖆 𝖓𝖊𝖜 𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖇𝖗𝖊𝖜𝖎𝖓𝖌..." Another voice replies, hesitant, as if afraid to ask.

"𝕿𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖘𝖆𝖞... 𝖉𝖊𝖊𝖕 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕺𝖇𝖘𝖎𝖉𝖎𝖆𝖓 𝕮𝖎𝖗𝖈𝖚𝖘, 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖆𝖇𝖞𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖍 𝖔𝖋 𝖒𝖎𝖗𝖗𝖔𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖇𝖗𝖔𝖐𝖊𝖓 𝖉𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒𝖘, 𝖉𝖜𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖘 𝖆 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖆𝖈𝖑𝖊 𝖚𝖓𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖞 𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗."

"𝕾𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖆𝖈𝖑𝖊? 𝖂𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖆𝖈𝖑𝖊?" The second voice trembles now, curiosity mingling with dread.

"𝕴𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖎𝖗𝖈𝖚𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕵𝖔𝖐𝖊𝖗, 𝖎𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖏𝖔𝖐𝖊𝖗'𝖘 𝖓𝖊𝖜 𝖙𝖔𝖞."

"𝕿𝖔𝖞? 𝖂𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖙𝖔𝖞? 𝕴 𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖞𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 𝖜𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖔𝖓𝖑𝖞 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖉𝖆𝖒𝖓𝖊𝖉..."

The first voice chuckles—a sound that echoes like footsteps in an empty hall. "𝕹𝖔𝖙 𝖆 𝖙𝖔𝖞 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖈𝖆𝖓 𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖞 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍. 𝕹𝖔𝖙 𝖔𝖓𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚'𝖉 𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖙 𝖙𝖔."

A pause. The air grows colder.

"𝕿𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖈𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖍𝖊𝖗 '𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖁𝖊𝖎𝖑𝖊𝖉 𝕳𝖔𝖗𝖗𝖔𝖗.' 𝕾𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖘𝖆𝖞 𝖘𝖍𝖊'𝖘 𝖆 𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖌𝖇𝖎𝖗𝖉 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖓 𝖆 𝖈𝖆𝖌𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖘𝖍𝖆𝖉𝖔𝖜𝖘. 𝕺𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖘𝖆𝖞 𝖘𝖍𝖊'𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖊𝖉 𝖆𝖙 𝖆𝖑𝖑—𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖆𝖌𝖊 𝖎𝖘 𝖏𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖜."

"𝕬 𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖌𝖇𝖎𝖗𝖉? 𝕿𝖍𝖆𝖙'𝖘 𝖗𝖎𝖉𝖎𝖈𝖚𝖑𝖔𝖚𝖘."

"𝕴𝖘 𝖎𝖙? 𝕿𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖘𝖆𝖞 𝖘𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘, 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖜. 𝕭𝖚𝖙 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖌𝖘 𝖞𝖔𝖚'𝖉 𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖙 𝖙𝖔 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗. 𝕳𝖊𝖗 𝖛𝖔𝖎𝖈𝖊..." The speaker trails off, as if the memory of it is too much to bear. "...𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖛𝖔𝖎𝖈𝖊 𝖈𝖆𝖓 𝖘𝖍𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖌𝖑𝖆𝖘𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖉 𝖇𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖘. 𝕴𝖙 𝖈𝖆𝖓 𝖕𝖚𝖑𝖑 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖔 𝖉𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒𝖘 𝖘𝖔 𝖛𝖎𝖛𝖎𝖉 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖌𝖊𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚'𝖗𝖊 𝖆𝖜𝖆𝖐𝖊—𝖔𝖗 𝖉𝖗𝖆𝖌 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖔 𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖊𝖘 𝖘𝖔 𝖉𝖊𝖊𝖕 𝖞𝖔𝖚'𝖑𝖑 𝖓𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖜 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖜𝖆𝖞 𝖔𝖚𝖙."

The second voice falters. "𝖂𝖍𝖆𝖙... 𝖜𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖉𝖔𝖊𝖘 𝖘𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖐 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊?"

The chuckle returns, darker this time. "𝕹𝖔 𝖔𝖓𝖊 𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖜𝖘. 𝕾𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕺𝖇𝖘𝖎𝖉𝖎𝖆𝖓 𝖁𝖊𝖎𝖑—𝖆 𝖘𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖉 𝖜𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖓 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖙𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝖋𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖊𝖓 𝖌𝖔𝖉𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖙𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖔𝖌𝖊𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗. 𝕿𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖘𝖆𝖞 𝖎𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖐 𝖆𝖙 𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖔𝖔 𝖑𝖔𝖓𝖌, 𝖞𝖔𝖚'𝖑𝖑 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖌𝖊𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖔𝖜𝖓 𝖋𝖆𝖈𝖊."

"𝕱𝖔𝖗𝖌𝖊𝖙... 𝖒𝖞 𝖋𝖆𝖈𝖊?"

"𝖄𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖚𝖓𝖗𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖑 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙," the voice explains, almost gleefully. "𝖄𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖏𝖔𝖞𝖘, 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖚𝖒𝖕𝖍𝖘—𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖘𝖑𝖎𝖕 𝖆𝖜𝖆𝖞 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖘𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖋𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖗𝖘. 𝕿𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖘 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖊. 𝕬𝖓𝖉 𝖋𝖎𝖓𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖞... 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖋𝖆𝖈𝖊."

Silence stretches between them—a silence heavy with fear.

"𝖂𝖍𝖞 𝖉𝖔𝖊𝖘 𝖘𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖊𝖆𝖗 𝖎𝖙?" The second voice asks quietly.

"𝕿𝖔 𝖐𝖊𝖊𝖕 𝖚𝖘 𝖘𝖆𝖋𝖊," the first voice replies, almost reverent now. "𝕺𝖗 𝖒𝖆𝖞𝖇𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖐𝖊𝖊𝖕 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖋 𝖘𝖆𝖋𝖊 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖚𝖘."

Another pause.

"𝕭𝖚𝖙 𝖜𝖍𝖞 𝖜𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕵𝖔𝖐𝖊𝖗 𝖐𝖊𝖊𝖕 𝖍𝖊𝖗? 𝖂𝖍𝖆𝖙'𝖘 𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖕𝖚𝖗𝖕𝖔𝖘𝖊?"

The answer comes slowly, each word dripping with malice: "𝕿𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖘𝖆𝖞 𝖘𝖍𝖊'𝖘 𝖜𝖆𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌."

"𝖂𝖆𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌? 𝕱𝖔𝖗 𝖜𝖍𝖆𝖙?"

The first voice laughs—a hollow sound that chills to the bone. "𝕱𝖔𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖈𝖑𝖎𝖕𝖘𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖆𝖌𝖆𝖎𝖓. 𝖂𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖎𝖙 𝖉𝖔𝖊𝖘... 𝖘𝖍𝖊'𝖑𝖑 𝖘𝖍𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖛𝖊𝖎𝖑 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖋."

The second voice is barely audible now: "...𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖓?"

A whisper so faint it could be mistaken for the wind: "...𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖘𝖍𝖊'𝖑𝖑 𝖉𝖊𝖛𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖚𝖘 𝖆𝖑𝖑."

The firelight flickers violently before extinguishing altogether.

In the darkness, only silence remains.

𝕿𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖘𝖆𝖞... 𝕿𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖘𝖔𝖗𝖗𝖔𝖜... 𝖎𝖙'𝖘 𝖍𝖚𝖓𝖌𝖗𝖞. 𝕴𝖙 𝖋𝖊𝖊𝖉𝖘 𝖔𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘, 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖏𝖔𝖞𝖘, 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞 𝖘𝖔𝖚𝖑. 𝕿𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖊 𝖜𝖍𝖔 𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖔𝖔 𝖑𝖔𝖓𝖌 𝖓𝖊𝖆𝖗 𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖈𝖆𝖌𝖊... 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝖙𝖔 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖌𝖊𝖙 𝖜𝖍𝖔 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖆𝖗𝖊. 𝕿𝖍𝖊𝖎𝖗 𝖕𝖆𝖘𝖙 𝖚𝖓𝖗𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖑𝖘, 𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖒 𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖙𝖞 𝖘𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖘.

𝕿𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖘𝖆𝖞... 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖛𝖊𝖎𝖑 𝖘𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖎𝖘𝖓'𝖙 𝖏𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝖘𝖎𝖑𝖐 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖘𝖍𝖆𝖉𝖔𝖜𝖘. 𝕴𝖙'𝖘 𝖜𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖓 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝕺𝖇𝖘𝖎𝖉𝖎𝖆𝖓, 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖙𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝖆 𝖋𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖊𝖓 𝖉𝖊𝖎𝖙𝖞. 𝕰𝖆𝖈𝖍 𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝖛𝖎𝖇𝖗𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖘 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖆 𝖕𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖊𝖑𝖉𝖘 𝖍𝖊𝖗, 𝖆 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕵𝖔𝖐𝖊𝖗 𝖍𝖎𝖒𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖋 𝖈𝖆𝖓'𝖙 𝖋𝖚𝖑𝖑𝖞 𝖕𝖎𝖊𝖗𝖈𝖊.

𝕿𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖘𝖆𝖞... 𝕿𝖍𝖆𝖙'𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖍𝖔𝖗𝖗𝖎𝖋𝖞𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙. 𝕾𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉 𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖞𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊 𝖘𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖘. 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖆𝖌𝖊 𝖎𝖘 𝖆𝖓 𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖚𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓. 𝕴𝖙'𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕺𝖇𝖘𝖎𝖉𝖎𝖆𝖓 𝖁𝖊𝖎𝖑 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖇𝖎𝖓𝖉𝖘 𝖍𝖊𝖗—𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘, 𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖌𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖋, 𝖙𝖔 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌... 𝖉𝖆𝖗𝖐𝖊𝖗. 𝕿𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖘𝖆𝖞 𝖘𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖍𝖔𝖔𝖘𝖊𝖘 𝖙𝖔 𝖗𝖊𝖒𝖆𝖎𝖓.

𝕿𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖘𝖆𝖞... (𝕬 𝖑𝖔𝖓𝖌, 𝖉𝖗𝖆𝖜𝖓-𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖘𝖎𝖌𝖍). 𝕴𝖙'𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖞𝖊𝖘, 𝖇𝖗𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗. 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖞𝖊𝖘... 𝕿𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖙𝖊𝖑𝖑 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖙𝖆𝖑𝖊."

𝕬 𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖗𝖚𝖓𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖆𝖎𝖗, 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖈𝖐 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖘𝖚𝖋𝖋𝖔𝖈𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌, 𝖆𝖘 𝖎𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖒𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖛𝖊𝖘 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌. 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖉 𝖛𝖔𝖎𝖈𝖊 𝖙𝖗𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖑𝖊𝖘, 𝖇𝖆𝖗𝖊𝖑𝖞 𝖍𝖔𝖑𝖉𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖎𝖙𝖘 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖕𝖔𝖘𝖚𝖗𝖊.

"𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖞𝖊𝖘? 𝖂𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖆𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖞𝖊𝖘? 𝕯-𝕯𝕴𝕯 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖘𝖊𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖒?"

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 𝖛𝖔𝖎𝖈𝖊 𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖓𝖘 𝖈𝖑𝖔𝖘𝖊𝖗, 𝖎𝖙𝖘 𝖙𝖔𝖓𝖊 𝖉𝖗𝖔𝖕𝖕𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖙𝖔 𝖆 𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖈𝖗𝖆𝖜𝖑𝖘 𝖚𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖐𝖎𝖓. "𝕿𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖘𝖆𝖞 𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖊𝖞𝖊𝖘 𝖇𝖚𝖗𝖓 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖈𝖑𝖎𝖕𝖘𝖊 𝖎𝖙𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖋—𝖆 𝖇𝖑𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝖋𝖑𝖆𝖒𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖉𝖊𝖛𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖘 𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖘 𝖔𝖓𝖑𝖞 𝖘𝖍𝖆𝖉𝖔𝖜𝖘. 𝕴𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖙𝖔𝖔 𝖑𝖔𝖓𝖌, 𝖞𝖔𝖚'𝖑𝖑 𝖘𝖊𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖜𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖓𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖒𝖊𝖆𝖓𝖙 𝖙𝖔 𝖘𝖊𝖊."

"𝕾𝖊𝖊 𝖜𝖍𝖆𝖙?" 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖉 𝖛𝖔𝖎𝖈𝖊 𝖎𝖘 𝖇𝖆𝖗𝖊𝖑𝖞 𝖆𝖚𝖉𝖎𝖇𝖑𝖊 𝖓𝖔𝖜, 𝖆 𝖇𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍 𝖆𝖜𝖆𝖞 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖇𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌.

"𝖄𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍," 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 𝖛𝖔𝖎𝖈𝖊 𝖗𝖊𝖕𝖑𝖎𝖊𝖘, 𝖆𝖑𝖒𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝖌𝖑𝖊𝖊𝖋𝖚𝖑𝖑𝖞. "𝖄𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍… 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖍𝖆𝖘 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖇𝖊𝖊𝖓. 𝕰𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞 𝖘𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒, 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞 𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖆, 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞 𝖘𝖔𝖚𝖑 𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖓 𝖆𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝖇𝖞 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖆𝖗𝖐𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖘 𝖘𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘."

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖉 𝖛𝖔𝖎𝖈𝖊 𝖌𝖆𝖘𝖕𝖘, 𝖈𝖍𝖔𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖔𝖓 𝖋𝖊𝖆𝖗. "𝕿𝖍𝖆𝖙'𝖘… 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙'𝖘 𝖎𝖒𝖕𝖔𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖇𝖑𝖊."

"𝕴𝖒𝖕𝖔𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖇𝖑𝖊?" 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 𝖛𝖔𝖎𝖈𝖊 𝖑𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖘—𝖆 𝖍𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜 𝖘𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖊𝖈𝖍𝖔𝖊𝖘 𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖑𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖑𝖞 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖛𝖔𝖎𝖉. "𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖎𝖘 𝖎𝖒𝖕𝖔𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖇𝖑𝖊 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖎𝖗𝖈𝖚𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕵𝖔𝖐𝖊𝖗. 𝕳𝖊𝖗𝖊, 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞 𝖇𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖘 𝖙𝖔 𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖘𝖍𝖊… 𝖘𝖍𝖊 𝖎𝖘 𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖕𝖎𝖊𝖈𝖊."

"𝕭𝖚𝖙 𝖜𝖍𝖞 𝖜𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉 𝖍𝖊 𝖐𝖊𝖊𝖕 𝖍𝖊𝖗? 𝖂𝖍𝖞 𝖜𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉 𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖘𝖔… 𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖘?"

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 𝖛𝖔𝖎𝖈𝖊 𝖕𝖆𝖚𝖘𝖊𝖘, 𝖆𝖘 𝖎𝖋 𝖘𝖆𝖛𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓. "𝕿𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖘𝖆𝖞 𝖘𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖆𝖘𝖓'𝖙 𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖆𝖙 𝖆𝖑𝖑. 𝕾𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖆𝖘 𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉—𝖉𝖊𝖊𝖕 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖗𝖚𝖎𝖓𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝕷𝖎𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖆, 𝖜𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖘𝖍𝖆𝖉𝖔𝖜𝖘 𝖇𝖑𝖊𝖊𝖉 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖈𝖗𝖆𝖜𝖑. 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕵𝖔𝖐𝖊𝖗 𝖉𝖎𝖉𝖓'𝖙 𝖒𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖍𝖊𝖗; 𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖉 𝖍𝖊𝖗."

"𝕮𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖉 𝖍𝖊𝖗? 𝕱𝖔𝖗 𝖜𝖍𝖆𝖙?"

"𝕱𝖔𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖓𝖉," 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 𝖛𝖔𝖎𝖈𝖊 𝖘𝖆𝖞𝖘 𝖘𝖎𝖒𝖕𝖑𝖞. "𝕾𝖍𝖊'𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖏𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝖆 𝖙𝖔𝖞 𝖔𝖗 𝖆𝖓 𝖆𝖈𝖙. 𝕾𝖍𝖊'𝖘 𝖆 𝖐𝖊𝖞—𝖆 𝖐𝖊𝖞 𝖙𝖔 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖋𝖆𝖗 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖘𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖓 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍."

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖉 𝖛𝖔𝖎𝖈𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖗𝖘, 𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖆𝖓𝖘𝖜𝖊𝖗𝖘. "𝖂-𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖘𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖓 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍? 𝖂𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉 𝖇𝖊 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖘𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖓—"

"𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖁𝖊𝖎𝖑 𝖔𝖋 𝕺𝖇𝖘𝖎𝖉𝖎𝖆𝖓 𝕰𝖈𝖑𝖎𝖕𝖘𝖊," 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 𝖛𝖔𝖎𝖈𝖊 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖗𝖚𝖕𝖙𝖘 𝖘𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖕𝖑𝖞. "𝖂𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖎𝖙 𝖘𝖍𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖘, 𝖎𝖙 𝖜𝖔𝖓'𝖙 𝖏𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝖇𝖊 𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖈𝖆𝖌𝖊 𝖇𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌—𝖎𝖙'𝖑𝖑 𝖇𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖑𝖉 𝖎𝖙𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖋 𝖚𝖓𝖗𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌."

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖉 𝖛𝖔𝖎𝖈𝖊 𝖋𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖘 𝖘𝖎𝖑𝖊𝖓𝖙, 𝖙𝖔𝖔 𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖗𝖎𝖋𝖎𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖐.

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 𝖛𝖔𝖎𝖈𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖚𝖊𝖘, 𝖎𝖙𝖘 𝖙𝖔𝖓𝖊 𝖉𝖗𝖎𝖕𝖕𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖒𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖈𝖊. "𝕿𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖘𝖆𝖞 𝖜𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖈𝖑𝖎𝖕𝖘𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖘 𝖆𝖌𝖆𝖎𝖓, 𝖘𝖍𝖊'𝖑𝖑 𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖎𝖓𝖆𝖑 𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖌—𝖆 𝖒𝖊𝖑𝖔𝖉𝖞 𝖘𝖔 𝖍𝖆𝖚𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖎𝖙 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖘𝖕𝖑𝖎𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖓𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖉𝖗𝖔𝖜𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖍 𝖎𝖓 𝖘𝖍𝖆𝖉𝖔𝖜. 𝕬𝖓𝖉 𝖜𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖆𝖘𝖙 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊 𝖋𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖘… 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖇𝖊 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖑𝖊𝖋𝖙."

"𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌?" 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖉 𝖛𝖔𝖎𝖈𝖊 𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖘𝖍𝖆𝖐𝖎𝖑𝖞.

"𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝖘𝖎𝖑𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊," 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 𝖛𝖔𝖎𝖈𝖊 𝖗𝖊𝖕𝖑𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖉𝖑𝖞.

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖋𝖑𝖎𝖈𝖐𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖛𝖎𝖔𝖑𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖑𝖞 𝖇𝖊𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖊 𝖊𝖝𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖚𝖎𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆𝖑𝖙𝖔𝖌𝖊𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗.

𝕴𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖚𝖋𝖋𝖔𝖈𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖉𝖆𝖗𝖐𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖘, 𝖔𝖓𝖑𝖞 𝖔𝖓𝖊 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖗𝖘:

"𝕽𝖚𝖓."

Chapter 120 - THE VEIL OF OBSIDIAN ECLIPSE

"Oh... You haven't heard?" The voice slithers through the air like smoke—untraceable, unplaceable.

"Heard what? Don't tell me there's a new nightmare brewing..." Another voice replies, hesitant, as if afraid to ask.

"They say... deep in the heart of the Obsidian Circus, in the labyrinth of mirrors and broken dreams, dwells a spectacle unlike any other."

"Spectacle? What spectacle?" The second voice trembles now, curiosity mingling with dread.

"In the circus of the Joker, is the joker's new toy."

"Toy? What toy? I thought his playthings were only the lost and damned..."

The first voice chuckles—a sound that echoes like footsteps in an empty hall. "Not a toy you can play with. Not one you'd want to."

A pause. The air grows colder.

"They call her 'The Veiled Horror.' Some say she's a songbird trapped in a cage of shadows. Others say she's not trapped at all—that the cage is just for show."

"A songbird? That's ridiculous."... "Is it? They say she sings, you know. But not songs you'd want to hear. Her voice..." The speaker trails off, as if the memory of it is too much to bear. "...her voice can shatter glass and mend bones. It can pull you into dreams so vivid you forget you're awake—or drag you into nightmares so deep you'll never claw your way out."

The second voice falters. "What... what does she look like?"

The chuckle returns, darker this time. "No one knows. She wears the Obsidian Veil—a shroud woven from the tears of fallen gods and stitched together with threads of despair. They say if you look at her too long, you'll forget your own face."

"Forget... my face?"

"Your memories unravel first," the voice explains, almost gleefully. "Your joys, your triumphs—they slip away like sand through your fingers. Then comes your name. And finally... your face."

Silence stretches between them—a silence heavy with fear.

"Why does she wear it?" The second voice asks quietly.

"To keep us safe," the first voice replies, almost reverent now. "Or maybe to keep herself safe from us."

Another pause.... "But why would the Joker keep her? What's her purpose?"

The answer comes slowly, each word dripping with malice: "They say she's waiting."

"Waiting? For what?"

The first voice laughs—a hollow sound that chills to the bone. "For the eclipse to come again. When it does... she'll shatter the veil herself."

The second voice is barely audible now: "...and then?"

A whisper so faint it could be mistaken for the wind: "...then she'll devour us all."

The firelight flickers violently before extinguishing altogether.

In the darkness, only silence remains.

They say... This sorrow... it's hungry. It feeds on your memories, your joys, your very soul. Those who linger too long near her cage... they start to forget who they are. Their past unravels, leaving them empty shells.

They say... The veil she wears isn't just silk and shadows. It's woven from Obsidian, from the tears of a fallen deity. Each thread vibrates with a power that shields her, a protection even the Joker himself can't fully pierce.... They say... That's the horrifying part. She could leave anytime she wants. The cage is an illusion. It's the Obsidian Veil that binds her—to the memories, to the grief, to something... darker. They say she chooses to remain.

They say... (A long, drawn-out sigh). It's the eyes, brother. The eyes... They tell the tale."

A chill runs through the air, thick and suffocating, as if the walls themselves are listening. The second voice trembles, barely holding its composure.

"The eyes? What about the eyes? D-DID you see them?"

The first voice leans closer, its tone dropping to a whisper that crawls under the skin. "They say her eyes burn with the eclipse itself—a black flame that devours light and leaves only shadows. If you stare too long, you'll see things you were never meant to see."... "See what?" The second voice is barely audible now, a breath away from breaking.

"Your death," the first voice replies, almost gleefully. "Your death… and every death that has ever been. Every scream, every plea, every soul torn apart by the darkness she carries."

The second voice gasps, choking on fear. "That's… that's impossible."

"Impossible?" The first voice laughs—a hollow sound that echoes endlessly in the void. "Nothing is impossible in the circus of the Joker. Here, reality bends to his will, and she… she is his masterpiece."... "But why would he keep her? Why would he create something so… monstrous?"

The first voice pauses, as if savoring the question. "They say she wasn't created at all. She was found—deep in the ruins of Lirania, where shadows bleed and whispers crawl. The Joker didn't make her; he claimed her."

"Claimed her? For what?"

"For the end," the first voice says simply. "She's not just a toy or an act. She's a key—a key to something far worse than death."

The second voice stammers, desperate for answers. "W-Worse than death? What could be worse than—"

"The Veil of Obsidian Eclipse," the first voice interrupts sharply. "When it shatters, it won't just be her cage breaking—it'll be the world itself unraveling."

The second voice falls silent, too terrified to speak.... The first voice continues, its tone dripping with malice. "They say when the eclipse comes again, she'll sing her final song—a melody so haunting it will split the heavens and drown the earth in shadow. And when the last note fades… there will be nothing left."

"Nothing?" The second voice whispers shakily.

"Nothing but silence," the first voice replies coldly.

The firelight flickers violently before extinguishing altogether.

In the suffocating darkness, only one word lingers:

"Run."

To be Continued...