The Guardian of the Pact

Ashren and Seris – Beneath the Archive

The blood mirror's visions faded, but the chamber deepened—walls shifting, the air growing thick with an impossible pressure. A second doorway revealed itself, hidden behind a veil of illusion magic so old, even Seris hesitated.

"A defense spell?" she whispered.

Ashren shook his head, soulfire crackling faintly at his fingertips. "No. A warning."

They stepped inside.

The temperature dropped. The light from Ashren's soul cast long shadows over the polished stone floor. At the center stood a figure—tall, cloaked in tattered gold, motionless as a statue. His back was turned, hands resting on the hilt of a great sword plunged into the earth.

When they stepped closer, he spoke.

"You carry the fire of the Gate. The last vessel."

Ashren stopped cold. "You know who I am?"

The figure turned.

He had no face.

Only a swirling void where identity once lived.

"I know what you are," the Guardian said. "And what you might become."

The First Pact Revealed

"You seek truth," the Guardian continued. "But truth does not come freely. It bleeds."

He raised his hand.

The walls shimmered, revealing an ancient memory: the First King kneeling before a Hollow-Eyed being, desperate, broken.

"A kingdom dying. A people begging for salvation. The King made a pact: open the Gate, and be spared."

The Hollowborn gave him power.

"But every gift came chained."

The vision shifted. Cities crumbling. Monsters flooding in. A war that broke the sky.

Seris watched in horror. "The Hollowborn didn't just come through the Gate. They were invited."

Ashren clenched his fists. "And I'm the result."

"No," the Guardian said softly. "You are the remedy. But only if you resist what waits inside you."

The Test

The Guardian raised his sword.

Ashren's soulfire flared.

Seris stepped forward, but the Guardian raised a hand. "This is not a battle. It is a test. If he is to bear the truth of the First Pact, he must prove he is still man—not monster."

The room transformed into a memory-constructed battlefield. Ashren found himself alone—surrounded by those he'd lost: his brother, his mother, and finally, Seris.

All asking him one thing:

"Why are you alive, when we are not?"

The question shattered something inside him.

But he answered.

"Because I still have to choose. To be better. To break the cycle."

The Guardian's Judgment

When the illusion faded, the Guardian lowered his sword.

"Then you are not yet lost."

He touched Ashren's chest, and a symbol burned itself onto his skin: the Mark of the Unbound.

"You now carry the truth of the First Pact. The Hollowborn will feel it. The Gate will hunger for you."

Ashren grimaced. "It already does."

Outside – Storm on the Horizon

Above the ruins, black clouds gathered unnaturally. The wind carried a low vibration—metal against stone, old engines waking.

Seris felt it before she saw them.

Massive figures moving across the landscape—glowing with runic light.

The Forgebound had arrived.

Ashren emerged from the ruins, cloak trailing, soulfire flaring like a torch against the coming dark.

"No more running," he said.

Seris nodded, fire in her eyes.

"No more chains."