Chapter 8, Part 4: Whispers of the Fifth
❖ Eastern Watch Hall – The Aftermath
Relvan stared at the crystal.
The projection kept looping.
Over and over again:
Brix punching a man through stone steps.Lio carving two temple guards mid-step.Mav standing atop corpses with his shadow bending unnaturally.Nair silently weeping beside a skeletal merchant.
And Veydan—frozen. A smear of ash and silence in the background.
No chants.
No applause.
Just slaughter.
Relvan didn't blink.
Ilthen, across the room, paced in slow circles. "They murdered civilians."
"Witnesses," Relvan corrected.
"Followers of a Temple. Protected clergy. How are we supposed to justify—"
"We don't." Relvan finally turned. "We don't justify it."
He stepped toward the central board.
Flipped the primary designation sigil.
Mage protocol, Line 8.
[SOE-9 CLASSIFIED HOST – DEITY RANK POTENTIAL]
Thirel gasped.
"That's divine protocol."
"Exactly."
Relvan looked at them.
"All of you have been waiting to prove he's either a fraud, or a weapon."
"He's neither."
Ilthen swallowed.
"So what is he?"
Relvan smiled faintly.
"A pivot point."
He turned again, this time to the outer circle of attending scribes.
"Double the scans. Encrypt all mage-to-mage gate traffic. And start researching containment for Envy."
❖ Western Temple – Hours After the Purge
Veydan sat in silence, robes streaked with smoke and sweat.
His altar was cracked.
The banners burned.
Only Gluttony's had remained intact—untouched.
Alnera stood behind him.
"You said they were chosen."
"They are," Veydan whispered.
"Then why did they kill us?"
"Because we treated them like gods."
Acolytes knelt in the corridors, whispering psalms to flame and ash.
One younger boy wept in silence as he traced the bloodied lines of Lust's rune into the stone floor with a stolen fingerbone.
The Temple wasn't dead.
But something inside it had shifted.
They no longer waited for the Archive to open.
They no longer asked.
They only feared that when it did again—it wouldn't leave anything behind.
❖ Red Sigil – Command Bunker, Below the Inner Ring
Jeska didn't yell.
She didn't curse.
She just stood before a table covered in crimson-threaded reports.
"Three thousand civilians," Dren said quietly.
"One temple speaker. Fifteen guards. Thirty unregistered pilgrims."
Jeska raised a hand.
Dren stopped.
She picked up a small shard of cracked dome crystal—harvested illegally from the edge of the plaza.
Held it to her ear.
It hummed.
Very softly.
"That's four now," she murmured.
"Four sins. Four bloodbaths."
Dren tried: "They're only violent when provoked—"
"Then why does silence cost this much?"
She turned to the rest of her command officers.
"The fifth is coming."
"And we will not let them walk through that dome alive."
❖ Somewhere Else – Lower East Ward, Two Floors Below the Rainline
He sat alone.
In a chamber that didn't exist on any map.
No windows.
No lights.
No echo.
Just shadow and reflection.
And a mirror.
He always watched through the mirror.
Not with magic.
With resentment.
Resentment, after all, was the oldest form of vision.
The kind that turned what should have been yours into theirs.
He had watched all of it.
The dome. The fire. The sermons.
The massacre.
He had felt something when the Lust one touched a boy and made him forget pain.
He had felt something else when the Pride one didn't speak a word before slicing through metal armor.
And when the flames burned through prayer itself?
He had closed his fist so tightly, three nails snapped off.
No name.
Not anymore.
No records.
He had erased them himself.
But the ache in his ribs hadn't left since the archive rejected him.
Since it glowed for someone else.
Since Kairon didn't even look up.
He stepped to the mirror now.
His reflection looked tired.
But alive.
"They picked four."
"But not me."
"Not me."
His hand hovered over the glass.
Then pressed.
The surface rippled—not glass.
Not anymore.
It bent.
And a whisper slipped out.
Not heard.
Not spoken.
But felt.
"I'll take what's mine."
"I'll take what they never gave."
[System Alert: Distant Aura Spike Detected – ENVY-Class Signature]
[Candidate Status: Suppressed]
[Malice Level: High. Emotional State: Claimless.]
[Warning: Candidate is acting independently. External contact may trigger hostilities.]
❖ Back Inside the Archive
Kairon was awake.
Staring at the ceiling.
"Did you hear it?" he asked no one in particular.
Brix looked up from his knuckles. "Hear what?"
"That ripple."
Mav leaned from his shelf. "Wasn't the System. Wasn't a knock."
Kairon nodded.
"No. It wasn't a knock."
"It was a decision."
Lio stopped mid-motion.
"What kind?"
Kairon looked toward the sealed wall.
The one that hadn't opened in days.
"The kind that comes from being denied."
The System pinged:
[Student Slots Remaining: 3]
[Candidate Class: ENVY – Status: Aware. Action Pending.][Projected Response: Retaliation Likely. Location: Suppressed.]
Kairon sat up.
"Don't go after him," he said softly.
Brix frowned. "Why not?"
"Because he'll come to us."
He paused.
Then added—quieter.
"And he won't come alone."
"He'll bring every part of himself we left behind."