Chapter Fourteen: Beneath the Eyes of Silence

The temple moaned.

Not from wind or storm—but from pressure. From presence.

Stone strained like it was trying to speak, the sound deep and low, like a groan from the bones of the world. The walls, ancient and carved by hands long turned to dust, seemed to lean inward. Watching. Listening. Waiting.

Hatku didn't blink.

Tashina's feet hovered inches above the floor. The flame-wings coiled behind her like serpents—sinewy, twisting, unnatural. They pulsed in rhythm with something beneath her skin, like veins not of blood but fire, restraint barely containing something ancient and wrong. Her body shook—not from pain, but from the sheer effort of not letting go. Whatever had taken root inside her was not content with silence. It clawed for release.

"Back away," she whispered. Her voice came as a breath lost in the roar of silence, but it carried. "It's getting louder."

He didn't move.

"You're not alone in there," he said softly, stepping closer, one hand inching toward his sword, the other stretched out—not to fight, but to reach her. "Fight it."

"I am," she said. But her voice split—two tones, jagged together. One hers. One deeper. Hollow. Like a memory still alive inside a dead mouth.

"But I don't know if it's winning... or waiting."

A jagged crack split the wall behind her like lightning frozen in stone. The sound echoed like a whip snap in the dead air. From the broken font, the black liquid no longer dripped—it oozed freely now, snaking across the temple floor in slow, deliberate movements, as if it too were alive. It slithered toward her, whispering against stone.

When it reached the edge of her shadow, the ground hissed—steam curling upward like breath from the underworld.

It recognized her.

Hatku clenched his jaw and took a breath. "If I lose you…"

"You won't," she answered. Her voice was firmer now, but her eyes fluttered—green light flickering behind the irises like a storm behind glass.

Then her head snapped toward the temple doors.

So did Hatku's.

Something moved.

Not inside the temple.

Outside.

Dozens of footsteps.

Fast.

Too fast.

Then silence again.

Tashina dropped to the floor. Not fallen—but placed. As if something had momentarily loosened its grip.

"They're not coming for me," she said, low, teeth clenched. "They're coming for you."

Hatku's fingers slid fully around the hilt of his blade, stepping between her and the doors. "Who?"

"Killers," she said. "They followed your scent. They waited for the shift."

His brow furrowed. "How do you know that?"

She didn't answer.

Her body twitched again—shoulders buckling as the wings tried to spread.

Hatku's breath was steady. "I'll hold them off."

"You'll die."

He shook his head. "Not before I buy you time."

"For what?" she asked, not accusing—curious.

He looked at her—really looked. Not at the monstrous changes, or the flicker of rot in her veins, but the girl underneath. The sister he'd lost. The sister he'd found again.

"To decide who you are," he said.

The temple doors exploded inward.

No sound had warned them. No impact trembled the ground.

Just boom—a breath of silence shattered. Splinters of ancient wood and dust rained across the floor.

Figures flooded in—six in total, but they seemed to fill the space like a legion.

Beasts draped in flesh and ash. Faces hidden beneath bone masks carved with jagged runes and symbols—language older than names, older than gods. Their armor was mismatched, stolen from dead warriors across realms. Their weapons: jagged, serrated, humming with unnatural stillness.

The air changed.

It reeked of battles unburied. Of blood that had soured centuries ago. And Hatku recognized the scent.

Realmwalkers.

Hunters. Executioners. Assassins employed by the Universal Gods to clean up unfinished games.

Tashina remained motionless behind him, as if even the parasite inside her was watching.

Hatku raised his father's sword.

The lead attacker stepped forward and removed his mask.

A human face. But barely. His skin was gray around the edges like something embalmed and left too long in the sun. And burned into his forehead, gleaming like fresh iron in firelight—was the mark.

The symbol of the Universal Gods.

Not worship.

Ownership.

"You should've died at birth, boy," the man said, his voice deep, scarred by smoke and war. "But your curse is our duty to finish."

"Maybe," Hatku growled, feet rooted, blade at the ready. "But here I am."

And then the temple exploded with fire and steel.

Green light clashed with sparks of orange and red, the torch flames igniting unnaturally as the first blade struck.

The first attacker lunged—Hatku spun to parry, steel shrieking against steel.

A second came from the side—he ducked, kicking low, breaking bone with a crack that echoed.

Behind him, Tashina's hands trembled.

The black liquid surged toward her like a summoned tide.

She whispered through clenched teeth, "I am not yours…"

And somewhere in the dark behind her eyes…

That thing watching from the shadows within her skull…

Stirred.

But for now, it waited.

And outside the temple, more footsteps began to gather.

War had begun.