The wind returned.
It came in a slow, cautious sweep through the broken street, carrying with it the faint smell of ash and something far older, a scent Seth couldn't place. It clung to his skin and lingered in his hair, refusing to fade.
The assassin's presence was gone, but the memory of his blade was not. Seth glanced at the cut on his arm again. The darkness from it had almost receded, but a faint mark remained — a reminder of the clash. That kind of corruption wasn't normal. It was a warning.
He stepped forward, moving through the ruins with deliberate caution. The world felt heavier here, not in a way that crushed the body but in a way that pressed on the mind. The fractured sky above seemed closer than it should be, as if leaning down to watch him.
Seth passed the shattered husks of buildings. Some still bore traces of life — broken tables, a rusted cooking pot, the faint outlines of what had once been paintings burned into the walls. Others were empty shells, stripped clean by time or scavengers.
Every step he took crunched against scattered debris. Every sound he made felt too loud in the silence.
The voice from before echoed faintly in his memory. My beloved son… gather the fragments… return them to their rightful place.
It had called him son.
And that could only mean one thing.
But why now? Why here? And why this younger body?
The street curved ahead, leading toward a partially collapsed structure that might once have been a chapel. Its spire was broken, lying across the street like a fallen spear. The double doors hung crookedly on their hinges, and faint motes of dust floated in the beam of light slipping through the gap.
He stepped inside.
The air was cooler here. Quiet, but not the same oppressive quiet as outside — this was the silence of a place that had been left alone for too long. The pews were still mostly intact, though covered in dust and fragments of stone. The altar at the far end had been scorched black, as though fire had tried to erase it but failed.
He approached slowly, running his fingers along the back of one pew. His touch left faint streaks in the dust.
Something shifted behind him.
It wasn't the sound of rubble falling or wood creaking. It was softer, deliberate. Footsteps.
Seth turned, light flickering in his palm out of habit.
A figure stood in the doorway. She was young — barely past twenty by the look of her — with sharp, alert eyes the color of storm clouds. Her hair was tied back in a rough braid, streaked with a faint shimmer of silver. Her clothes were a patchwork of leather and cloth, practical and worn, with a short spear strapped across her back.
She froze when she saw him. Her gaze dropped briefly to the faint glow in his hand, then returned to his face.
"You're not from here," she said. Her voice was steady but guarded.
Seth kept his stance relaxed but ready. "Neither are you, I'm guessing."
Her eyes narrowed. "I was born here. But I've never seen you before."
"That makes two of us," he replied.
She stepped further inside, closing the gap between them with slow, deliberate movements. "That light… you're not hiding it. Either you're very confident, or you're very stupid."
Seth's expression didn't change. "You could say the same for walking into a ruined chapel unarmed."
She smirked faintly. "Who says I'm unarmed?"
The spear slid from her back with a practiced motion, the tip glinting faintly in the dim light. Seth noted the balance in her grip, the way she held it as though it was an extension of herself.
"Name?" she asked.
"Seth."
She tilted her head. "No last name?"
"I have one," he said, "but you don't need it."
Her smirk faded into something more serious. "You do know what carrying light openly means here, don't you?"
"I'm starting to get the idea."
She studied him for a moment, as if weighing whether to believe him. "It means every follower of the Abyss within ten miles will know you're here. And they'll want you dead before nightfall."
"Then I guess I'll have company soon," Seth said calmly.
The woman's brow furrowed. "You're either suicidal or…" She trailed off, her eyes narrowing again. "You're one of them."
"One of who?"
"The Covenant."
The word struck him like a spark against dry wood. He didn't flinch, but something in his chest tightened.
"You know the name," she said, her voice now low and suspicious.
"I've heard it," Seth replied carefully. "What's it to you?"
"That depends," she said. "If you are one of them, you're either a blessing… or the biggest curse this city's seen in years."
Before he could respond, a distant howl split the air. It was sharp, inhuman, and close enough to make the dust in the rafters tremble.
The woman's head snapped toward the sound. "We don't have time for this. Move."
Seth followed without argument as she slipped out the side door of the chapel into a narrow alleyway. The howl came again, closer this time, accompanied by the faint sound of claws scraping stone.
They moved quickly through the winding alleys, the woman navigating without hesitation. Seth kept pace easily, scanning the rooftops and corners.
"What's coming?" he asked.
"Hunters," she said. "Abyss-touched. The kind that never stop once they've caught a scent."
"Can they be killed?"
"Yes," she said, "but not easily. And not without drawing more of them."
They turned a final corner and emerged into a small courtyard. The woman slowed, scanning the shadows, then gestured toward a low doorway half-hidden behind a pile of rubble.
"In here," she said.
Seth ducked through the doorway and found himself in a cramped cellar lit by a single lantern. The air was thick with the smell of oil and dust. The woman followed, shutting the door behind them and dropping a wooden bar into place.
For a moment, they just stood there, listening. The sounds outside grew louder — claws against stone, guttural growls, the scrape of something large moving just out of sight. Then, as suddenly as they had come, the noises faded, swallowed by the ruins.
The woman exhaled slowly, setting her spear aside. "That was too close."
Seth studied her. "You didn't have to warn me. Why did you?"
She gave him a sideways glance. "Because you're either going to get yourself killed, or you're going to help me. And I haven't decided which yet."
Seth allowed himself the faintest hint of a smile. "Then I suppose we'll have to see."