Wounds No One Sees

LOCATION: ORACLE'S REACH – VAULT OF PROPHECIES

Everything was quiet.

The sky above the mountain had been dark all day, like it was holding in a secret.

Inside the Vault, the walls glowed faintly with old glyphs. They pulsed. Then they stopped. Then they pulsed again, slower this time. Like they were… nervous?

This was where the Seers stayed.

High Seer Elvar Maernyx floated above the ground. He always did that when he was thinking. His eyes were closed, but everyone knew he could still see things. Maybe even too much.

Around him stood other people in robes. They were called Glimmers and Mindshapers. They helped him read the future. Most of the time it worked.

One of them whispered, "The Ritebreaker moves again."

Another said, "The Hollowglass stirs."

A third one said something about blood and mirrors, but nobody was listening anymore.

Because then it happened.

One of the Mindshapers gasped and fell to one knee.

"I saw it," he said. "But it's not possible."

Another looked at him. "What did you see?"

The Mindshaper didn't answer right away.

Then he stood up slowly and said:

"Lucan… touched the Black Glyph."

Everybody went silent.

Even Elvar opened his eyes.

"That shouldn't be possible," someone whispered.

"It's not time yet," another said.

But Elvar just stared at the glowing lines on the wall. They had stopped moving.

Then, cracks began to form on the far end of the wall. Glowing cracks.

Like the future itself just broke.

---

LOCATION: HOLLOW CREED: INNER QUARTERS — MORNING

The sun was already up.

People were moving outside — armor clinking, footsteps echoing, someone arguing about rations again.

But Serin's door hadn't opened once.

Not for breakfast. Not for council. Not even when someone mentioned Lucan heading out early.

That was strange.

Nareth noticed.

He always noticed.

He knocked once. Quietly.

No answer.

He waited, then pushed the door open.

"Serin?"

The room was dim, curtains pulled tight. The air felt... too still.

She was sitting on the edge of her bed, hunched over slightly, arm wrapped around her side like she was holding something in.

She didn't turn to look at him.

"You're not at the war table," he said gently.

"Didn't feel like talking," she murmured.

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

"You're hurt."

She didn't answer.

"Let me see," he said.

Serin shook her head.

"Nareth, please. It's just a bruise."

But he was already kneeling beside her.

He reached out slowly. She didn't stop him this time.

When he lifted the edge of her shirt — just enough to see — his breath caught.

It wasn't just a bruise.

The wound had turned dark, sick-looking. Not healing. The skin around it was tight and discolored, pulsing faintly like it didn't know how to stop hurting.

He didn't say anything at first.

Then softly:

"You should've told me."

"I thought it'd go away," she said. "Or at least stop getting worse."

Nareth looked at her, and his voice got quieter.

"It's not going away, Serin."

She still wouldn't look at him.

"I don't want anyone else to know," she whispered.

"You know what they'll say. What they'll think. That I can't keep fighting."

"You can't keep fighting," he said, and his voice cracked a little. "Not like this."

She finally looked at him.

Eyes tired. Scared. Still trying to be brave.

"Please, Nareth. Don't tell Lucan. Not yet. He's… he's got too much on his shoulders. He doesn't need me on it too."

Nareth looked away.

Then nodded.

"Okay."

He sat beside her.

Didn't speak again.

Just stayed there, with her, in the quiet.

Because sometimes, bleeding on the inside is the kind that hurts worst…

…and sometimes, silence is the only way to say I'm scared too.

---

LOCATION: ASHVALE — UNDER THE WHITE SPIRE

It was too bright.

The walls were glowing, like fake sunlight that didn't feel warm. Just... empty. Too clean. Like nothing real ever lived here.

Nyza couldn't even sit right. The chair was stone, rough and cold, and the cuffs around her wrists were cutting deeper every time she moved. She'd stopped moving.

She couldn't tell if it was day or night. Maybe it didn't matter anymore.

She was just here.

Her head ached. Her arms were shaking. And everything... hurt.

Across from her stood Halix Varn.

She looked... perfect. Clean. Too clean. Like someone who didn't need to touch the world to break it.

She didn't yell, didn't even raise her voice.

That somehow made it worse.

"You've been quiet," Halix said, her voice soft like a hymn but sharp like a blade. "Your mother would be proud. Or scared. I forget which matters more."

Nyza didn't answer.

She didn't have words. Just a dry mouth and pain buzzing behind her eyes.

Halix walked over slow, like a ghost in white fire.

"Your mother is listening, you know. Hollowglass hears everything. Even silence."

Nyza looked up at her. Eyes red. She didn't cry. Not because she was strong. Just... there was nothing left.

"I'm going to give her a choice soon," Halix said, kneeling like she cared. "Her voice. Or your life."

Nyza flinched.

That made Halix smile.

"Good. You still feel."

She stood.

"That's all I need."

And then she left. Just like that.

The door slammed shut.

And Nyza finally cried.

Quiet.

Shaky.

Not because she was weak. Just because no one was watching anymore.