Chapter 38 – The Eyes in the Fog
The Council hadn't convened in over a decade.
Not since the Day of Collapse.
Not officially, anyway.
But deep within the Skywell Citadel, hidden behind veils of Echo encryption and dimensional static, they gathered again—six old figures seated in silence before a table of glass and light.
Each wore a different mask.
None spoke first.
It was the Lady of Veins who finally broke the silence. Her voice was metallic, ancient. "The Flameborn has awakened. The seal in the Hanging Archives has been breached."
"Impossible," murmured the man known only as The Arbiter. "That bloodline was extinguished. The Source confirmed it."
"Clearly," said the Blind Judge, "the Source lied."
A fourth figure leaned forward—his mask jagged and half-broken, exposing charred skin underneath.
Warden Irex.
"He is not just Flameborn. He is Reclaimed. That power has memory. And that memory threatens us all."
Outside the council chamber, a young woman in a cobalt-blue cloak stood still in the stormlight. Her black-gloved hand hovered over a pocket Echo transmitter.
She had no name here.
Only a codename: Cipher.
Her orders were simple—observe Rayven Cael. Monitor his path. Ensure the council stayed one step ahead.
But Cipher had grown tired of watching.
Rayven was unpredictable.
Dangerous.
And something about him—his gaze, the way he fought for others—reminded her of someone long dead.
Her fingers tightened.
She had made her choice.
Back in Graven's lower tiers, Rayven and Nyra emerged from the access tunnel, bruised but alive.
The streets above were no longer quiet.
Crimson plumes of smoke were rising from the Market Quarters. Emergency sirens blared. Automated drones zipped overhead, scanning for threats. Civilians were evacuating in panic.
Rayven looked around, fists clenched.
"This wasn't a random attack," he said. "Kael's forcing a power shift. He's flushing out the Seals one by one."
Nyra touched her wrist comm. "I'm getting a frequency ping—an encoded one. Someone's trying to reach you."
Rayven raised an eyebrow. "Who?"
She played the message.
It was a female voice.
Sharp. Controlled. Conflicted.
"Rayven Cael. If you want to know why you were erased, meet me at the Broken Halo in Sector 7 within the hour. Come alone. Or don't come at all."
The line went dead.
Rayven exhaled slowly. "Guess we've got company."
Elsewhere in the city, Cipher removed her cloak.
Beneath it was an Echo-weave suit embedded with thousands of micro-runes—tech reserved only for elite recon operatives trained in the lost art of Sigilwalking.
She looked at the fading skyline, eyes narrowed.
"I'm tired of being a pawn," she whispered.
"I want to meet the heir who broke the chains."
In the Skywell Citadel, the Lady of Veins turned to the other Council members.
"Dispatch the Scaled Ones. Activate the Silver Protocol. And send a Reaper to Sector 7."
"Why?" The Arbiter asked, frowning. "You believe Rayven will go?"
The Lady's voice sharpened.
"I believe Rayven Cael no longer fears us."
Back in Graven:
Rayven turned to Nyra.
"If I don't make it back…"
She stopped him with a look.
"You will. But you won't be the same."
He nodded.
And stepped into the shadows—toward the Broken Halo.
Toward the woman who knew the truth.
And toward the moment everything would start to unravel.