The Fall and the Gate

Falling.

The abyss swallowed Raiyan whole. Wind howled past his ears, but there was no sky, no ground—only the sensation of descent. His stomach twisted. He had no control, no way to stop himself.

Then—

A pulse from the sword.

The moment he gripped it tighter, his fall slowed. Not completely—but enough to feel the shift.

"It responds to me…" Raiyan realized, his heart pounding.

His descent became more controlled, as if invisible hands were guiding him. The abyss still stretched endlessly, but below—something was waiting.

A shape. A structure.

A gate.

---

Raiyan landed hard, knees buckling beneath him. He gasped, steadying himself, his sword scraping against the ground.

The air was… different.

Before him, an enormous gate loomed.

It was ancient, covered in runes he couldn't understand. The stone was blackened with time, the surface cracked like something had once tried to break through—from the inside.

Beyond it, he sensed something.

Not a monster. Not a presence like the chained being.

Something… hidden.

A whisper crawled through his mind. Calling.

"Step forward."

He hesitated. The abyss had thrown nothing but trials at him. What if this was another trap?

"Then so be it."

He exhaled sharply and stepped forward.

The gate responded instantly.

The runes glowed. The cracks in the stone shifted.

And then—

The gate opened.

-

The moment Raiyan stepped through, he realized—this was not just another part of the abyss.

This was a place left behind.

A hall.

Its walls were towering, adorned with faded murals. The ceiling was lost in darkness, but light flickered from unseen sources, illuminating the carvings.

Raiyan's breath caught.

The murals weren't just random images.

They were scenes.

Battles. Cities rising and falling. Figures—some **human, some not—**locked in struggle.

And at the very center of it all…

A sword.

His sword.

Or at least, something that looked like it.

His fingers trembled as he reached out—the blade in the mural was whole.

Was this his sword's past?

"To shatter a chain, your sword must remember itself."

Was this what the chained being had meant?

"It has a history."

His blade was not just a weapon. It was once part of something greater.

And then—

A voice.

"You were not meant to find this place."

Raiyan spun, blade raised.

A figure stood at the far end of the hall.

Tall. Cloaked. Featureless.

Yet somehow… familiar.

The presence in the abyss that had stopped his reflection.

The force that had whispered, "Not yet."

Raiyan's grip tightened. "Who are you?"

The figure did not move.

"You walk a path that was never meant for you. You carry a blade that should not exist."

The words sent a chill through Raiyan's spine.

What did that mean?

"This sword was broken. Forgotten." Raiyan said slowly. "Why? Who did it belong to?"*

The figure remained silent.

Then, it raised a hand.

The air shifted.

The murals cracked.

And then—

The walls exploded.

--

Shards of the past came alive.

The murals moved. The figures stepped out of the stone, their once-frozen expressions twisted.

Warriors without faces. Shadows in armor that didn't belong to any world Raiyan knew.

And all of them… turned to him.

The figure spoke.

"You wish to remember? Then endure."

A whisper echoed through the hall.

And then—

The warriors attacked.

---

Raiyan moved instinctively.

The first shadow lunged. Its blade sang through the air.

Raiyan barely parried. The force sent him skidding backward, his arms numb from the impact.

Too strong.

The second struck low. Raiyan dodged, rolling aside. His breath came in ragged gasps.

There were too many.

And his sword—it was still broken.

He couldn't cut them. Couldn't kill them.

"Then how do I fight?"

Another attack. He barely deflected it. Sparks flew as his sword met theirs.

They weren't just attacking.

They were testing him.

Pushing him toward something.

A realization.

The blade was broken.

But what if…

It didn't need to be whole?

The fragments in his hands still carried weight.

And then, the sword pulsed.

Not light.

Memory.

The shattered blade shifted. The cracks did not mend—they deepened.

And in that moment—

Raiyan understood.

It was not broken.

It was unfinished.

---

The moment the realization struck, Raiyan moved differently.

Not as a warrior swinging a shattered blade—

But as someone who accepted its form.

A parry.

A twist.

A strike—not to kill, but to break the enemy's stance.

The warriors hesitated.

And in that moment, Raiyan advanced.

He did not cut.

He crushed.

The force of his blows disrupted their forms. The warriors, once relentless, began to falter.

They weren't real.

They weren't alive.

They were memories.

And memories could be shattered.

The final strike came—and Raiyan did not dodge.

He stepped into it.

And broke it apart.

A silence fell over the hall.

The shadows faded. The warriors vanished.

The murals crumbled.

And the figure watched.

For the first time—it moved.

Stepping forward, slowly.

Raiyan tensed. Was this the real fight?

Then—

A whisper, like the sound of a page turning.

"You have taken your first step."

The figure raised a hand.

A door formed in the air.

Beyond it—a new path.

The figure's voice echoed.

"Go. Before it is too late."

Raiyan hesitated.

Then, gripping his sword—he stepped through.

---

To Be Continued…