The Whispering Desert shimmered under the midday sun, its sands a blinding expanse of white. Null, Thorne, and Kael trudged through the dunes, the twin moons' faded imprints lingering in the sky—a reminder of the Fracture's warped time. The air was dry, carrying the desert's whispers like a constant murmur, while the weight of the Obsidian Hall loomed ahead, a dark promise etched into Null's mind from the Mirror Pool's vision. His brand pulsed with the Sigil of Balance, a steady hum beneath his exhaustion, but the recent battle with the Harbinger had left him drained, his resolve tested by the void's lingering pull.
Thorne walked beside him, her dagger sheathed but her posture alert, her dark curls damp with sweat. Kael led the way, her staff tapping the sand, the crystalline orb guiding them toward hidden paths known only to the desert's oracle. "The Obsidian Hall lies beyond the Shadow Veil," Kael said, her voice cutting through the whispers. "A trial awaits—a test of your will against the Scriptorium's traps."
Null nodded, his throat parched. "I'm ready."
Thorne cast him a sidelong glance, her expression skeptical. "You look like you'll collapse before we get there. Pace yourself, Null."
He managed a faint smile. "I'll manage. We can't stop now."
The Shadow Veil emerged as a wall of swirling black mist, its edges crackling with energy. Kael raised her staff, the orb glowing to part the mist, revealing a narrow passage. "Stay close," she warned. "The Veil distorts perception. One wrong step, and you'll be lost."
They entered, the air thickening with a cold, oppressive weight. The whispers intensified, voices overlapping—pleas, curses, laughter—each tugging at Null's mind. He clutched the memory anchor, its warmth grounding him, but the Sigil of Balance flickered, sensing the Veil's power. Shadows danced at the edges of his vision, forming fleeting images: a child reaching for him, a warrior's blade, a woman's tear-streaked face. He shook his head, focusing on Kael's staff light.
Halfway through, the ground shifted, and a figure materialized—a Scriptorium agent, her quill dripping ink that hissed as it hit the sand. Her hollow eyes locked onto Null. "Echo Vessel," she rasped, her voice a distorted echo. "Your existence ends here."
Before Null could react, she slashed her quill through the air, and a wave of ink surged toward him. He traced the Sigil of Doubt, the glyph shimmering to unravel the ink's form, but the agent countered with a second strike, faster and more precise. The ink solidified into chains, wrapping around his wrists.
Thorne lunged, her dagger slicing through the chains, freeing him. "Move!" she shouted, pulling him back as Kael wove a barrier of light. The agent hissed, her form flickering, but she pressed forward, her quill sketching runes that warped the Veil's shadows into grasping hands.
Null's mind raced. The Sigil of Balance could harmonize opposing forces—perhaps it could turn the agent's power against her. He closed his eyes, letting the desert's whispers guide him, and traced the glyph with renewed intent. The shadows twisted, aligning with the light, and the hands turned on the agent, dragging her into the mist. Her scream faded, leaving an eerie silence.
Thorne exhaled sharply. "That was close."
Kael lowered her staff, the barrier dissolving. "The Scriptorium knows we're here. They'll send more."
They pressed on, emerging from the Veil into a vast obsidian plain, the Obsidian Hall rising like a jagged wound in the earth. Its walls were black as midnight, etched with runes that pulsed with a dull red glow, and its spires pierced the fractured sky. The air hummed with power, a resonance that vibrated in Null's bones.
At the hall's entrance, a massive door loomed, sealed with a lock of crystalline shards. Kael approached, her staff glowing as she chanted. The shards shifted, aligning into a spiral matching Null's brand. "Place your hand," she instructed.
Null hesitated, the vision of the Harbinger's threat flashing in his mind, but he pressed his palm to the lock. The brand flared, and the door groaned open, revealing a cavernous hall lit by floating orbs of crimson light. Statues of forgotten gods lined the walls, their faces eroded yet radiating a presence that pressed against his soul.
In the center, a pedestal held the next Echo Fragment—a shard of obsidian veined with gold, pulsing with energy. But guarding it was a spectral entity, its form a shifting amalgamation of the gods' visages, its voice a chorus of divine wrath. "Echo Vessel," it boomed, "you trespass on sacred ground. Prove your worth, or be unmade."
The hall trembled, and the floor cracked, shadows rising to form a battlefield. The entity gestured, and a wave of dark energy surged toward Null. He dodged, tracing the Sigil of Balance, weaving the energy into a harmonic counterforce. The wave dissipated, but the entity laughed, its form splitting into three avatars—warrior, sage, and mourner—each wielding a different power.
Thorne and Kael joined the fray. Thorne's dagger flashed, cutting through the warrior's shadow blade, while Kael's staff summoned a barrier to shield them from the sage's arcane blasts. Null faced the mourner, its sorrowful wail piercing his mind, stirring memories of loss—his ancestor's regret, the child's longing, Elyra's sacrifice.
The mourner advanced, its hands outstretched, and Null felt his will waver. The void's temptation returned, a whisper to surrender, to let the pain fade. But he remembered Kael's words—the Fragment's strength is within you—and Thorne's faith. He channeled the Sigil of Balance, merging his resolve with the mourner's sorrow, transforming the wail into a melody of hope.
The mourner faltered, its form dissolving into mist. The warrior and sage followed, their powers unraveling as Null's glyph harmonized their essence. The hall stilled, the entity's chorus fading to a whisper. "You are worthy," it said, its voice now gentle. "Take the Fragment, and know the truth."
Null approached the pedestal, grasping the obsidian shard. Light engulfed him, and a vision unfolded. He saw the forgotten gods, their power woven into the Code by the dreamwalkers, a balance of creation and destruction. But his ancestor, driven by ambition, sought to dominate that balance, twisting the Code until it fractured. Elyra's seal had preserved the remnants, but a god—named Voryn, the Voidweaver—survived, its essence fueling the Hollow Choir's rise.
The vision shifted to Null's birth, his memory-seal placed by Elyra's lingering will to protect him as the Echo Vessel. A prophecy echoed: "The Vessel will face Voryn, and the choice will remake the world—restoration or ruin."
The light faded, and Null staggered, the Sigil of Dominion forming in his mind—a glyph to command the Code's fragments. He felt Voryn's presence, a cold thread weaving through the Choir's song, drawing closer.
Thorne steadied him. "What did you see?"
Null's voice was steady despite the turmoil within. "The Hollow Choir serves Voryn, a god who survived the Collapse. I'm meant to face him."
Kael's eyes widened. "Voryn is a legend—a deity of oblivion. If he's awakening, the Fracture will collapse entirely."
Before they could plan, the hall shook, and the Scriptorium Leader emerged from the shadows, her quill raised. "Your journey ends," she hissed, ink swirling around her.
Null traced the Sigil of Dominion, commanding the hall's runes to flare, disrupting her attack. Thorne and Kael struck, forcing the Leader back, but she retreated into the mist, her laughter echoing.
"We need to reach Voryn before she does," Null said, determination hardening his resolve.
Thorne nodded. "The Obsidian Hall is a gateway to the Sanctum Layers. We can descend there."
Kael pointed to a spiraling stairwell at the hall's rear. "It leads to the deepest layers. But Voryn will be waiting."
They descended, the air growing colder, the Choir's song a constant threat. Null felt the weight of his destiny—the choice to restore or ruin—and vowed to face it, armed with the Fragments' power and his companions' strength.