Chapter 31: The Obelisk’s Call

The silence after the creature's collapse felt heavier than the chaos it had brought. It wasn't just silence—it was the absence of anything that felt remotely alive. The fractured Core still hovered at the center of the chamber, its jagged shards pulsing faintly, but the light it emitted was dim, weak. The air around it seemed to tremble, as if the Core itself was struggling to hold its shape.

Mira sat on the ground, her legs folded beneath her, her body curling protectively around me. Her arms trembled as they held me close, and I could feel her quick, shallow breaths brushing against the top of my head. She wasn't crying—not yet—but her silence was louder than any scream.

Lucien's boots scraped against the stone as he approached us. His sword was still in his hand, its blade streaked with dark smears that shimmered faintly in the dim light. His shoulders were tight, his posture rigid. He looked down at Mira, his jaw clenched, his face set in an expression I couldn't read.

"We need to move," he said, his voice low but firm.

Mira didn't look at him. Her arms tightened around me, her fingers digging slightly into my back. She shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "He can't take this, Lucien. Look at him. He's—"

"He's still here," Lucien interrupted, his tone sharper now. "If we stay, none of us will be. The Core is collapsing. We don't have time to argue."

Charlotte, leaning heavily on her sword, let out a sharp breath, her face pale and drawn. "He's right," she said, though her voice was weaker than usual. She glanced down at her injured arm, grimacing as she shifted her weight. "The longer we stay, the worse it's going to get."

Mira finally looked up, her eyes red-rimmed, her face streaked with sweat. "You don't care, do you?" she said, her voice trembling. "You don't care what this is doing to him."

Lucien's jaw tightened, his gaze flicking briefly to me before returning to Mira. "I care enough to keep him alive," he said quietly. "Now get up."

Mira stared at him for a long moment, her eyes full of something raw and unspoken. Then, slowly, she stood, her movements stiff and shaky. She didn't look at Lucien again.

---

The system flickered to life in my mind as we moved.

[Quest: Seek the Obelisk of Mending. Anchor stability required.]

The words were cold, distant, but their weight pressed down on me like a heavy blanket. I didn't know what the Obelisk was, but the system's urgency was unmistakable. My chest ached, the crack on my arm pulsing faintly with each step Mira took.

The corridor outside the chamber was narrow and twisted, the walls lined with veins of crimson light that pulsed erratically, like a heartbeat out of sync. The air was colder here, though it still carried that faint metallic tang. Each step Mira took echoed faintly, the sound swallowed quickly by the oppressive silence.

Charlotte walked just ahead of us, her steps uneven, her injured arm cradled against her chest. She kept her sword in her good hand, the blade dragging slightly against the floor. Her face was pale, her jaw set, but her eyes remained sharp, scanning the corridor for any sign of movement.

Lucien led the way, his sword raised, his shoulders tense. He moved with purpose, each step deliberate and measured, but there was something in the way he carried himself—something heavier than usual.

The whispers started faintly at first.

I thought I was imagining them—soft, distorted murmurs that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. But as we moved deeper into the corridor, the whispers grew louder, their words sharper, clearer.

"Failure," one of them hissed, the voice low and mocking. "You couldn't save him."

Mira froze mid-step, her breath catching in her throat. Her grip on me tightened, her fingers trembling.

Another whisper followed, this one softer, almost pitying. "It's your fault. You brought him here. You let this happen."

"Shut up," Mira whispered, her voice shaking. She looked around wildly, her eyes darting across the walls, but there was nothing there—just the veins of crimson light, pulsing steadily.

"Mira, keep moving," Lucien said, glancing back at her. His voice was steady, but there was a hint of tension in his tone.

"I can't," she said, her voice breaking. "I can't—"

"You can," he interrupted sharply. "And you will. We don't have a choice."

The whispers didn't stop. They grew louder, more insistent, their words overlapping until they were a cacophony of accusations and taunts.

Charlotte stumbled, her grip on her sword faltering. She leaned heavily against the wall, her breaths ragged. "I can hear them too," she muttered, her voice strained.

Lucien didn't respond. He kept moving, his steps quicker now, his sword raised slightly higher.

Mira's pace slowed again, her breaths coming in quick, shallow gasps. She looked at Lucien, her eyes wide and filled with something that bordered on desperation. "This is your fault, Lucien!" she snapped, her voice trembling. "You dragged us here, knowing it would destroy him!"

Lucien stopped abruptly, turning to face her. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes were cold, hard. "I'm trying to save him," he said quietly.

Mira's laugh was sharp, bitter. "Save him? You're killing him! Look at him, Lucien! He's—"

"He's alive," Lucien interrupted, his voice rising slightly. "And as long as he's alive, we keep moving. Do you understand me?"

Mira stared at him, her chest heaving. She didn't respond.

---

The whispers faded as the corridor widened into a massive chasm. Mira's steps faltered as she stared at the space before us, her lips parting in a silent gasp.

The chasm stretched endlessly in both directions, its edges jagged and uneven. A faint crimson fog rose from the depths below, swirling lazily like smoke caught in an invisible wind. And in the distance, rising from the fog like a beacon, was the Obelisk.

It was enormous, towering above the fog, its surface smooth and dark, with faint lines of light tracing intricate patterns across its surface. The light pulsed faintly, almost in sync with the crack on my arm.

"The Obelisk of Mending," Charlotte said softly, her voice filled with awe and something close to relief.

Lucien didn't say anything. His gaze was fixed on the Obelisk, his jaw tight, his grip on his sword firm.

Mira looked down at me, her eyes wide and filled with tears. "It's okay, baby," she whispered, her voice trembling. "We're almost there."

The system flickered in my mind again.

[The Obelisk weakens. The vessel fractures further. Anchor stability required.]

I didn't understand the words, but the ache in my chest grew sharper, the cracks on my arm glowing faintly. My tiny body trembled, a soft, pitiful cry escaping my lips.

Lucien turned to us, his expression grim. "We need to move," he said.

But as we stepped closer to the edge of the chasm, the air shifted.

A maze of spectral barriers appeared, shimmering faintly as they twisted and shifted, blocking the path to the Obelisk. Each barrier pulsed with a faint, malevolent energy, the light twisting and distorting the space around it.

Lucien cursed under his breath, his grip on his sword tightening.

Mira looked at the barriers, her face pale. "What… what is this?"

"The path," Lucien said grimly. He turned to Charlotte, his expression hard. "Get ready. This isn't over."

And as the barriers began to move, twisting and reforming like living things, I knew he was right.