🔁 Previously…
In the underworld beneath the desert, Lynx offered not his body—but his regret—to the Witch of Thirst.
The Fifth Ritual was more than a union. It was a surrender of guilt, pain, and sins too deep to name.
But that surrender cost him.
He emerged weaker. Haunted.
And the Seer warned him:
"The Sixth is not a woman.
She is a curse.
And she already walks among us…"
🐍 Something Follows
Since they left the desert, Lynx hadn't slept.
Each time he closed his eyes, he felt something breathing just behind him.
Not Kaethe. Not Rika. Not the Seer or Cerys.
Something else.
Rika noticed it first.
"You're twitching in your sleep," she said. "Worse than when we first met."
"I'm not sleeping," Lynx muttered.
She tossed him a knife. "Then start stabbing the air. See what bleeds."
But Kaethe had grown quiet.
Even Nyxfang spoke less.
:: You have brought something with you, Sovereign. And it is not mine. ::
🔮 Seer's Vision
That night, the Seer screamed again.
They found her convulsing beside the fire, her eyes glowing with violent amber light, her body slick with sweat.
"She wears no face!"
"She drinks his voice!"
"She crawls beneath our skins—oh gods, I feel her in my throat—"
Lynx grabbed her, but she pushed him away, screaming louder.
"DON'T TOUCH ME! She sees through YOU!"
Then—silence.
She collapsed, unconscious.
💀 The Sixth Reveals
Cerys stood over her, sword half-drawn. "That wasn't a vision. That was a possession."
Kaethe finally spoke.
"No. It was a warning."
She stared into the fire, her eyes unreadable.
"The Sixth isn't someone Lynx needs to find.
She's already claimed a piece of him."
Lynx touched his chest.
It felt cold.
Like something had nested inside his soul.
🩸 The Mark in the Mirror
That night, Lynx finally slept.
And dreamed.
Not of war. Not of women.
He dreamed of mirrors. Thousands of them, cracked and bleeding. Each one showed a version of himself — dying, screaming, burning alive.
In the center stood a woman with no face. Just long black hair. Nails like needles. Skin like wet silk.
She didn't speak.
But her voice was inside him.
"I am not one of your lovers.
I am one of your consequences."
He woke with blood on his hands.
Not his own.
🕯️ Fracture
By morning, the camp had turned on edge.
Kaethe sat apart from the others, whispering old hymns.
The Seer wouldn't stop pacing.
Cerys had sharpened her blade to the point it bled sparks.
Even Rika stopped cracking jokes.
No one trusted each other.
Not anymore.
And Lynx felt it too: a slow rot inside him. A presence curled beneath his ribs.
He looked up at the sky and whispered:
"Who are you?"
And for the first time in days,
the wind whispered back.
"I am your Sixth.
I am the one you forgot."
🌑 Next Chapter — "The One You Forgot"
Before Lynx was Sovereign,
before the sword, the rituals, the lust…
There was someone.
Someone he left behind.
Someone who died for him.
And she has returned.
Not to love.
To haunt.
❤️🔥 Are you ready for Chapter 8?
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