Lycius stood frozen at the edge of the glowing chasm, the figure's haunting words echoing in his mind. His breathing was ragged, shallow, as if the air itself was resisting him. The veins beneath his skin pulsed in tandem with the city's rhythm, a steady, otherworldly beat that seemed to whisper promises and threats in equal measure.
The fog curled tighter around him, wrapping him in its cold embrace. He clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms as a wave of emotion surged through him—fear, anger, confusion, and something else. Something he couldn't name.
He gazed down at the glowing red light emanating from the wound in the earth. It called to him, like a beacon, urging him forward. His body resisted, every instinct screaming at him to turn and run. But there was nowhere to go.
"What do you want from me?" he whispered, his voice trembling.
The city groaned in response, the sound low and guttural, like the earth itself was in pain. Lycius stumbled back, his knees buckling. His left eye burned, the black veins spreading further across his face, their tendrils inching closer to his temple. He clawed at his skin, desperate to stop the creeping darkness.
The whispers returned, faint and indistinct, like voices carried on the wind. They were coming from the chasm.
He peered over the edge, his heart pounding. The light within the pit seemed to pulse faster, mirroring his own heartbeat. Shapes swirled in the red glow, shifting and twisting, almost like... faces.
Lycius recoiled, his chest tightening. "What is this place?"
The whispers grew louder, more distinct. They weren't random—they were voices. Hundreds, maybe thousands, overlapping in a chaotic symphony of pain and despair. He clamped his hands over his ears, but the sound was inside his head, relentless and unyielding.
"Lycius..."
He froze. One voice broke through the cacophony, clear and familiar.
"Lycius... help me."
His breath caught in his throat. "No... that's not possible."
It was her voice. Warm, gentle, and achingly familiar. His sister.
"Alyss?" he called out, his voice cracking.
The whispers fell silent, leaving only her voice. "Lycius, please. I need you."
Tears blurred his vision as he staggered to his feet. "Alyss! Where are you?"
"Down here," she replied, her voice soft but urgent. "Come to me."
He hesitated, staring into the chasm. The faces in the light had stopped shifting. One face emerged from the glow—her face.
A wave of emotion crashed over him. Alyss had been gone for years, lost to the sickness that had swept through the city before everything fell apart. He had held her hand as the light left her eyes. He had buried her.
"This... this isn't real," he whispered, shaking his head.
"Lycius," her voice pleaded, "it's me. I'm alive. Please..."
Against every instinct, he stepped closer to the edge. The light flared brighter, and the veins in his left eye pulsed in response. He could feel it now—the connection between him and the city, between him and the chasm.
"I can't lose you again," he whispered.
The moment his foot crossed the edge, the ground beneath him gave way. He plummeted into the chasm, the red light swallowing him whole.
Lycius landed hard on a cold, smooth surface, the impact jarring every bone in his body. He groaned, rolling onto his side. The air down here was heavier, charged with an unnatural energy that seemed to seep into his skin.
He pushed himself up, his gaze darting around. The space was vast and cavernous, the walls glowing faintly with the same red light. The veins were everywhere now, crawling across the walls, floor, and ceiling like a living web.
"Alyss!" he called, his voice echoing through the chamber.
No response.
He staggered forward, the veins beneath his skin burning hotter with every step. The whispers returned, louder this time, filling the air with an oppressive weight.
"You shouldn't be here."
He spun around. The figure from before stood behind him, its hood still shrouding its face.
"You!" Lycius shouted, his fists clenching. "Where is she? Where's my sister?"
The figure tilted its head. "Your sister is gone. What you heard was not her."
"Liar!" he snarled, the veins in his left eye flaring with a sudden surge of power.
The figure raised a hand, and the whispers ceased. "You don't understand what you're dealing with, Lycius. The veins are not just the lifeblood of this world—they are its memories, its pain, its despair. They show you what you most desire, but it is only an echo. A trick to lure you deeper."
Lycius shook his head, tears streaming down his face. "No. She's here. I saw her!"
The figure stepped closer, its voice softer now. "What you saw was a fragment of the past, a memory buried in the veins. The city is dying, Lycius. And if you do not act, you will die with it."
He sank to his knees, his strength drained. "I don't understand. Why me? Why do I feel this connection?"
The figure knelt before him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Because you are the last. The veins chose you. You carry the remnants of this world's soul. You have the power to save it—or to end it."
Lycius looked up, his vision swimming with tears. "I just want her back. I just want everything to go back to the way it was."
The figure's voice was tinged with sadness. "That is no longer possible. But you can create something new. Something better."
Lycius closed his eyes, the weight of the truth crashing down on him. The city, the veins, the whispers—it was all connected. And he was at the center of it.
When he opened his eyes, the figure was gone. Only the veins remained, pulsing with a faint, steady rhythm.
Lycius rose to his feet, his resolve hardening. He didn't know what lay ahead, but he knew one thing: he couldn't run from this. Not anymore.
The veins pulsed brighter, guiding him deeper into the chamber. And for the first time, he felt something new—hope.