Chapter 13—Price of Power

The thought made his stomach twist. His hands clenched into fists as the unfamiliar power still coursed through him, refusing to leave.

He let out a slow breath, his lips curling into a dry, humourless smirk.

"Veiled Realm?" His voice was quiet, almost disbelieving.

Then his smirk dropped, his expression darkening.

"Of course. Of course, even after everything, I'm still a pawn in someone's game." he muttered, his voice filled with bitter amusement. He turned back toward the courtyard, exhaling sharply through his nose. 

No god appeared before him. No celestial being whispered words of fate into his ears.

There was nothing. Only silence. Only the moons.

And the altar.

Chael's gaze flicked back toward the centre of the courtyard toward the single stone structure which stood alone beneath the violet sky. It wasn't large, barely waist-high and made of the same dark, obsidian-like stone as the gate had been. Strange runes were carved along its surface which glowed faintly with a soft white light, pulsating like a heartbeat.

Something about it felt wrong.

Not dangerous or threatening.

Just… wrong.

Like it shouldn't exist.

Like it had always been there, waiting for him, and him alone.

Chael exhaled sharply and started walking.

His boots made no sound against the smooth stone beneath him. The closer he got to the altar, the more he noticed something strange.

The far end of the courtyard was supposed to have another gateway.

It was bigger than the first. More massive and towered everything and was sealed off by another swirling veil of fog. He had seen it the moment he arrived.

But no matter how much he walked-

It never got any closer. But the altar did. 

He continued walking and the altar got closer and closer but the large gate opposite him stayed the same distance away from him.

He wasn't an idiot. If this was the Veiled Realm, then there was no doubt in his mind that beyond that gate was something else - something higher.

The Ascended Realm.

That was the natural order, wasn't it? Veiled, Ascended, and then Eclipsed. If he passed through this gate, he'd probably find himself in another courtyard, another altar, and at the end of that courtyard, another gate leading even higher.

The Eclipsed Realm was the second highest stage he knew of, though there were whispers of something beyond even them. But those were just rumors and half-truths passed between mercenaries and scholars who thought they knew more than they did.

Chael had never met an Eclipsed Harbinger. He didn't know how many even existed. But in the higher societies of Enir-Ilim? He was sure there had to be a few.

His steps slowed as he reached the altar. He stared deeply at what was shown to him. The carvings on it were unfamiliar and the language ancient, but somehow… he could understand it.

"The Legacy of the Blind Prophet."

The Blind Prophet, huh?

Chael stared at the words for a long moment.

"Just what the hell kind of deity chose me?" he muttered, shaking his head.

Harbingers were chosen by remnants of gods long forgotten, long sealed away. They weren't divine in the way most people imagined. They weren't benevolent. They weren't saviors. They simply were.

And now, one of them had picked him.

Chael let out a slow breath and lowered his gaze to the altar's surface.

An ancient-looking scroll rested there, its edges frayed, the paper yellowed with age. Something about it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It felt alive.

Still, he picked it up.

The moment his fingers brushed against the parchment, a sharp pulse ran through his head. His vision blurred for a second, his surroundings darkening, as if the world itself held its breath.

Then the words appeared.

"The First Gate: Illusory Echo..."

He couldn't read them because they weren't written in a language he knew. But somehow, he understood.

"What seeks to strike shall falter, what dares to cut shall bleed..."

The more he read, the wider his eyes became.

Each line carved itself deep into his mind, embedding into his very being.

His hands clenched around the scroll as the final words etched themselves into him.

"...may your own hand deliver your ruin."

A sharp breath left him.

"…What is this?"

There were more words at the bottom and the more he read the more serious his face had become. This was an incantation gifted to him by The Blind Prophet. The power behind the incantation was unreal. He had never seen or heard of anything like it and he understood exactly what it did.

And he understood the price.

A bitter chuckle left his lips. "Tsk. Such a horrendous side effect for one stupid incantation."

It was laughable, really.

Just when he had finally reached the end of it all, when he was one step away from vanishing completely, some god had decided to throw one last responsibility onto his shoulders. And it didn't come without a huge price to pay.

He exhaled sharply, staring at the altar, at the words that had now been burned into his memory.

"…How about I go through with it anyway?"

His lips curled into a smirk, empty and sharp.

"I want to experience being a Harbinger at least once," he muttered, rolling his shoulders despite the lingering pain. "Then what if I kill myself? How funny would that be?"

No fate. No destiny. No grand divine mission. He would take this power, use it once, then throw it away just to spit in the face of whatever god had chosen him.

The thought alone made him laugh.

After having read through the entire scroll, Chael dropped to the ground, crossing his legs in front of the altar. The stone was ice-cold beneath him, but he didn't care. His hands rested on his knees, fingers twitching slightly as he exhaled through his nose.

Then, he closed his eyes.

The moment he did—

The mirror world shattered.

The moment the mirror world shattered, he was back.

No time had passed. The bodies were still there and the walls still trembling. The Screeching Veyrith was still lunging toward him.

It all happened too fast. The sheer speed of it distorted the air, a force so raw and violent that it sent sharp gusts of wind tearing through the cavern.

Chael sighed as one single thought crossed his mind.

'I wish the last thing I saw was the beautiful gardens of Faer'lenis.' he thought, 'Not this ugly creature in this shitty dark cave.'

With that, right as the creature was about to swipe his head off, a single thought flashed in his mind. 

'What seeks to strike shall falter, what dares to cut shall bleed. May your own hand deliver your ruin...'

The world collapsed. His vision fractured. It was like glass breaking behind his eyes, like reality itself had been pulled apart and reassembled wrong. A ringing exploded inside his skull. Every nerve in his body seized, his skin turned ice-cold, and for a split second, he felt everything. Every reflection. Every angle. Every unseen thing.

Then - Darkness.

He had gone blind.