Chapter Six: The Gaze in the Rift

Lin Ruo plunged into the void, her body torn by invisible hands. Darkness swallowed her, a storm of shrieks—countless voices layered into chaos—flooding her ears. She tried to scream, but her throat was sealed shut. The symbol on her wrist burned like a branding iron, blurring her consciousness. She sank endlessly until an icy grip seized her, halting her fall.

She gasped, eyes snapping open. The void was gone, replaced by a vast, boundless space—mist churned in midair like a giant web. She stood on a fractured floor, cracks oozing black liquid, the air thick with blood's stench. Her wrist throbbed; the symbol sprawled across her arm, black tendrils wriggling beneath her skin.

"Where…" Her whisper echoed, frail and broken. The floor trembled, as if something struck it from below. She scanned the haze; tall, faceless shadows loomed—heads tilted, silently watching.

Her heart raced. "What more do you want?" she shouted, voice quaking. The shadows advanced, their steps cracking like snapping bones. She stepped back; a sting flared at her foot. A pale hand burst from a crack, claws sharp, seizing her shoe.

She screamed, kicking it off; it retreated, but more hands erupted, surging like a tide. She turned to flee, spotting a figure in the mist—tall, back turned, clutching a crimson book. She froze; that book was too familiar.

"Who are you?" she yelled, voice reverberating. The figure paused, turning to reveal a faceless expanse. No features, just a blank void radiating oppression, as if countless eyes pierced her.

"You are the key," it said, voice deep and rumbling, shaking the floor wider. It raised the book; pages flipped to the thirteenth, bleeding red script, reeking of decay. Her throat tightened, a force pulling her closer.

"No…" She gritted her teeth, resisting. "I won't read it again."It tilted its head, uncomprehending, then advanced, each step quaking the ground, black liquid gushing from cracks. She backed away, crashing into a shadow; its arm—cold, solid—clamped her shoulder. She shrieked, breaking free, but more surrounded her, trapping her.

"Speak it," the figure boomed, thunder rolling. Its hand reached, dripping black. Her wrist pulsed faster, as if to tear her skin. She clenched her jaw, resisting, but her mind flashed—childhood, at a pit's edge, fog swirling, a faceless figure handing her a book. "Speak it," it said. She opened her mouth, voice not her own, a guttural chant—then fog consumed her.

She snapped back; the figure loomed, book raised. The thirteenth page clarified—a summoning chant, ancient and warped, calling something dormant. A force tugged her mind; her lips moved involuntarily.

"Stop!" she yelled, biting her tongue, blood flooding her mouth. The force faltered; the figure froze, shadows stilled. She panted, wrist cooling briefly before flaring again, punishing her defiance.

It roared, pages flipping faster, blood dripping, pooling black. It pointed; mist thickened, swirling into a vortex around her. The floor shattered; a massive hand—pale, twisted, claws like blades—burst forth. It swiped; she dodged, but it shredded her coat, leaving bloody gashes.

She fell, gasping. It approached. "You cannot escape."She looked up; shadows multiplied, morphing—Zhang Ran's face, then strangers', all pale, grinning. They chanted, "Finish it."Her head spun. Finish what? She didn't want to know, but the chant echoed in her skull, indelible. A chill hit; the black liquid formed a circle, a glowing eye-like symbol at its center.

"Lin Ruo…"A crisp, childish voice cut through. She looked up; her childhood self emerged from the vortex, eyes black, grinning eerily. It held a paper—the full thirteenth-page chant. It stepped closer. "Speak it, Xiao Ruo."

"No!" she screamed, voice raw. She lunged for the paper; it retreated, the page floating before her. The script flared, red light stinging her eyes. Her throat locked, lips moving again—"Open."

The vortex exploded, mist tearing apart, revealing a void—countless eyes glinting greedily. The figure raised the book; the thirteenth page mirrored her wrist. Her body ripped apart, consciousness dragged into the void.

A vision—childhood, Wuyin Town's streets, fog everywhere, a faceless figure handing her a book. She chanted; mist thickened, a massive, cracked form rose, mouths breathing. It laughed, "You've begun," and she fainted.

She gasped, back on the fractured floor. The figure and child were gone. Mist parted; a colossal form loomed—taller, cracked, eyes peering from fissures. It stepped forward, voice an earthquake: "You woke me."

She turned to run; the floor collapsed, plunging her down.

Screaming, she fell through mist. A hand grabbed her arm—Zhang Ran, pale, hollow-eyed, grinning. His grip was cold, wet. "You can't escape."

She thrashed; his nails dug in. He handed her the crimson book, dripping blood. "Finish it."Her head throbbed—childhood, in the library, a faceless figure teaching her the chant. She finished; it laughed, "You're the key." Fog swallowed her.

Gasping, Zhang Ran vanished. The book opened to the thirteenth page, script wriggling. A force surged into her; the symbol blazed, nearly fainting her.

The colossus neared. "You're mine."She screamed, hurling the book; it floated, black mist binding her arm. Consciousness tore; it pulled her in. With her last strength, she yelled, "No!"

Mist contracted; it froze, eyes closing. She collapsed, dizzy, free. The book fell, blood spelling: The ritual is unfinished.Shadows chanted her name as she closed her eyes, fainting.