Chapter 7: The Mask That Watches

The night over Vault City was unnaturally silent. A fog, too dense for natural weather, blanketed the rooftops like ghostly tendrils. Even the neon lights of the commercial sectors seemed muted under its weight, flickering like stars behind a gauze veil.

Syra sat alone atop the training platform of Hunter Academy's east tower, her gaze locked on the sky. The wind brushed her silver-black hair back, revealing the faint scar just above her left eye—a reminder from the Trial of Ashes. Her fingers tightened around the hilt of her blade.

"Why do they always lie?" she whispered. "Everyone."

Beneath her, the city moved on. Unaware. Unconcerned. And watched.

Far above, nestled between folds of shadow and fractured time, a presence stirred.

Author stood in a timeless corridor—one foot in the past, the other in tomorrow. A wall of fractured windows stretched endlessly beside him, each pane a moving glimpse into an alternate fate. Some showed Syra as a tyrant queen, others showed her falling in the Trial. One showed her never born.

But tonight, his eyes stayed on this Syra.

Author (softly): "She is beginning to ask the right questions."

He slid his journal shut. The black-and-gold katana on his back shimmered faintly. The threads of fate vibrated beneath his boots.

Elsewhere – Lucian's Keep

Far below the realm of men, in the molten bowels of what remained of Old Inferna, Lucian Kaelion stepped through a chamber flooded with red light.

The ancient runes etched into the obsidian walls pulsed, whispering truths in a forgotten tongue.

In the center of the room, chained to a pedestal, was the Hell Key Fragment—a shard of raw celestial energy, pulsating like a trapped heart.

Lucian knelt before it, drawing a sigil in the air with his gloved hand.

Lucian: "Soon, brother… I'll gather what you shattered. And your daughter… she'll hand me the rest without even knowing."

A low growl echoed behind him. He didn't flinch.

The Hell King—a titanic figure clad in molten bone and scorched metal—emerged from the shadows. His eyes burned twin holes in the dark.

Hell King: "You delay. The pact grows stale."

Lucian (coolly): "I do not forget our bargain. You'll have your realm—after I have the keys."

Hell King: "She must not ascend."

Lucian's eyes narrowed. "She won't. Not yet."

Vault City – Training Arena

Syra blocked a strike from Korr, her sparring partner for the week. His demon-blooded strength gave him an edge, but her speed and instincts were evolving with every session.

Korr grunted as she swept his legs and pinned him.

Korr (laughing): "You're getting mean."

Syra: "I'm getting ready."

The room fell quiet again. Korr sat up, brushing dust off his jacket.

Korr: "You ever think… maybe your father knew what he was doing? Breaking the key. Maybe he was protecting you."

Syra turned away, the scar above her eye pulsing.

Syra: "Then why did he let me kill him?"

Korr had no answer.

But Author did.

In the Dream Between Realities

Syra awoke in a realm of floating pages, ink bleeding in mid-air, stars blinking between lines of text.

He was there. Cloaked in black and gold. Watching her.

Syra: "Why do you keep invading my dreams?"

Author: "Because they aren't dreams."

He stepped forward. The mask gleamed under starlight.

Author: "They're edits. Warnings."

Syra: "From what?"

Author: "From becoming someone you hate."

The realm cracked slightly—like glass under pressure.

Author: "You think you're chasing a truth, Syra. But truth… it doesn't want to be found. And those who carry it are cursed."

He offered her a quill.

Author: "One day, you'll write this story too. What version will you tell?"

Syra reached for the quill, but the realm shattered.

She woke up screaming.

The Archives of Ashen Light

Later that night, Syra broke into the sealed wing of Hunter Academy—the ancient Archive.

She wasn't alone.

Riven waited inside, half-hidden in shadows, holding a glowing stone.

Riven: "You're not the only one with dreams."

Together, they uncovered a scroll written in the same celestial script that haunted Syra's sleep.

Riven: "It mentions a masked observer. A being called Author. Said to be both traitor and guardian."

Syra (whispering): "He's real."

A tremor shook the chamber.

Something was waking.

A sigil ignited on the scroll, and for a heartbeat, Author's mask appeared burned into the page.

Far Beyond – Author's Realm

The man in black sat once more before his journal.

Author: "So many versions. So many Syra Kaelions. But only one of them must rise."

He opened a blank page.

And wrote.