Evin walked slowly through the ruined hall, each step a tremor in his bones. His body felt foreign—heavy, shaking, held together by grief and something colder.
Tears blurred his vision, and every breath hitched like his lungs were rejecting the air. But he forced his legs to move.
Behind him, the remnants followed like a procession of shadows. Their forms flickered and warped—half-shapes of grief trying their best to be solid for him.
They didn't speak. They didn't reach for him. They simply moved with him, as though afraid he'd crumble if they let him out of their sight.
The marble under his feet was cracked. The torches sputtered, their flames shrinking as if they feared getting too close. The hall narrowed into a long, scripture-lined corridor. Words carved into the stone glowed faintly—
Purity
Order
Cleansing
Obedience
—each one a doctrine sharpened into a blade.
Evin stopped and pressed his hand against the nearest inscription. The stone vibrated under his palm, cold enough to bite. A remnant beside him extended its distorted hand toward the wall—and recoiled instantly, its form rippling in pain. Evin understood without being told.
"These words hurt you," he whispered.
The remnant shifted in agreement. Evin let his forehead rest against the scripture, eyes closing, and spoke through clenched teeth.
"These words murdered you."
The corridor seemed to dim in response, the torches shrinking further. The remnants crowded closer, trembling faintly.
A sound echoed in the distance—soft, dragging footsteps. One figure appeared, limping, armor cracked and dirty.
A knight.
He wasn't hunting. He was fleeing. He passed Evin without seeing him at first, then collapsed against the wall, chest heaving.
"Inquisitors…" he gasped. "Dead… deeper halls breached…"
Evin flinched. The knight finally looked at him and choked on a breath.
"You… it's you. You caused this."
Evin shook his head weakly. "I didn't cause anything. You did."
The knight swallowed hard. He wasn't trying to stand anymore. He was trying to curl into the stone.
"She's coming," he whispered. "The Bishop. She's not alone."
Evin's veins turned cold. "What do you mean?"
"She's bringing the Choir."
The remnants behind Evin reacted instantly. Their silhouettes distorted violently, retreating and flickering in panic. Evin's chest tightened.
"What is the Choir?" he asked.
The knight shook uncontrollably. "They… they gave up their souls. Willingly. They believe erasure is holy. They asked the Church to take them."
Evin's stomach twisted. "Why would anyone want to be erased?"
The knight laughed—a broken, hollow sound. "Because they think forgetting is salvation."
The air suddenly cooled. Torches dimmed. A soft hum drifted through the corridor—beautiful and horrifying, a melody that seeped into bone and memory like poison.
The knight began to sob. "They're singing…"
Evin felt his breath shake. The melody pressed against his mind like a hand trying to wipe him clean. The remnants crouched low, shapes collapsing inward as if crushed. Their silhouettes dissolved at the edges, reaching desperately for him.
He grabbed the nearest shadow, his fingers passing through it like mist. "Stay with me," he whispered.
The remnant flickered once, then blurred.
"Don't disappear!" Evin cried, voice breaking. "Please—stay—"
The song grew louder, echoing off the stone, resonating with the doctrine built into the walls. Something inside Evin's skull throbbed painfully. His knees buckled. Rell's name slipped from his mind for half a heartbeat—and that terrified him more than anything else ever had.
"No!" he gasped. "Don't take him from me again!"
He slammed his hand against the wall, shaking violently. The remnants swayed, half-dissolved, shadows clinging to him instinctively.
Then one stepped forward.
A tall remnant. Familiar posture. Broad shoulders. Not Rell—but a piece of someone else who once refused to be erased. It pressed a hand of shadow to Evin's chest, and a shock rippled through him—a surge of memory, not of the remnant but of himself.
"You remain," Evin whispered.
The remnant's outline steadied. Evin's mind snapped back into focus. The song still pressed in, but could no longer wipe him away.
The remnants rallied behind him, anchoring themselves to him and him to them.
The song stopped.
A figure stood at the end of the corridor—white and gold robes, silver eyes glowing softly. The Bishop. Four Choir members flanked her, veiled and humming with power.
The Bishop smiled gently.
"Well done, Evin Veylan."
Evin's breath trembled.
"The Veil did not abandon you," she said. "It anchored you."
Her eyes opened fully.
"Now you are ready."
Evin staggered back.
The remnants braced behind him like a wall of shadows.
The Bishop extended a hand.
"Let us begin."
Evin clenched his fists, grief and fury twisting through his chest, steadying him.
He wasn't facing her alone.
This time—
the Veil stood with him.