The cell was cold — not just physically, but in its very essence. The magic that lined its walls pulsed with a dampening aura, muting every spark of power within.
Elias lay on a slab of stone that served as a bed, his breathing shallow. Sweat dripped from his brow, despite the chill. Suddenly—
"DANTEEE!"
He jolted up with a gasp, heart pounding. His voice echoed for a moment before being swallowed by the silence of the enchanted cell.
His eyes darted around, disoriented. The stone walls were etched with ancient runes—anti-magic sigils that suppressed every trace of energy within him. His hands trembled slightly as he reached out and touched the cold floor, trying to sense anything... but nothing responded.
He sat up fully now, breathing heavier, sweat turning cold on his neck.
"They planned it all..." he muttered bitterly. "Even Dorian didn't see it coming."
Elias clenched his fists, staring at the faint scars on his hands from the last fight. His mind replayed it—Varies' voice, the sudden ambush, the magic binding him down, Faith screaming...
"Where are the others?"
He staggered to his feet, approaching the rune-lined bars. His legs felt weak, as though even his body was rebelling against him. He gritted his teeth, slamming his fist against the glowing sigils — a sharp pulse of pain responded, throwing him backward.
"Tch..." He winced and sat back down, gripping his hair. "How the hell do I escape this...? And where is Dante...?"
His voice cracked at that last word. Not knowing whether his best friend had escaped or not—it haunted him more than the silence.
Then, faintly... a sound.
Not from outside.
But deep within.
A whisper. Not in his ear, but in his mind.
"Do you wish to be free...?"
Elias's eyes widened—his breathing halted. That voice... it was familiar. It was the same one he'd heard after absorbing the second Echo.
MIDDLE OF NOWHERE
The forest path blurred around him as Dante ran, branches whipping at his arms, mud caking his boots. His breath came in ragged gasps, each inhale stinging like fire. The Arcane City now far behind him—only the haunting echoes of betrayal and battle remained.
Drip.
A tear slid down his cheek.
Drip.
Another.
He didn't stop.
He couldn't.
But inside—he was breaking.
"Are they okay?" he whispered breathlessly to the empty woods. His voice cracked. "Please... tell me they're okay..."
His pace slowed just enough for him to stumble against a tree, one hand gripping the bark tightly as the weight of guilt crushed his chest.
"Why did I run?" he muttered, knuckles whitening. "Was I... a coward?"
He fell to his knees, the daggers of Cael Morhan pulsing faintly at his sides, glowing as if reacting to his pain.
His head dropped, shoulders shaking.
"Elias... Alice... Faith... everyone... I left them behind..."
But then—another pulse from the daggers. Stronger. Firmer. Not pain this time.
Resolve.
The magic inside them was calling to him—not to mourn. But to move.
He looked up, eyes wet, but now burning with purpose.
"No," he whispered. "I'll come back for them. I swear it."
And with that, he stood again.
Tears still fell.
But now, he ran with purpose.
THE ECLIPSE ORDER
Inside the obsidian chamber of the Eclipse Order's sanctuary, darkness clung to every corner like a living shadow. The torches along the curved walls flickered violet, casting long, jagged shapes across the floor where Maldrath stood, rage burning in his molten eyes.
A subordinate—hooded, gaunt, and whisper-thin—stood trembling before him, the one who communed with silent shadows, the "Whisper Tongue."
Maldrath's voice thundered through the chamber.
"You still haven't found him?!" His clenched fists cracked the armrests of his throne. "Arkan betrayed me! He dared to walk his own path—and you've done nothing but whisper and wait!"
The Whisper Tongue flinched, lowering his head further.
"M-my lord, the aura around him are too distorted... his presence—flickering in and out. He's masking himself. Even the shadows have gone blind."
Maldrath's voice dropped, more dangerous in its calm.
"He was supposed to be my right hand... my balance. He believed Nyxoth was salvation. But now?" His eyes glowed with a deep, violent red. "Now, he acts like a judge."
He rose from his seat, towering over the kneeling figure.
"Find him. Or I will burn the tongues out of every shadow that failed me."
The chamber trembled. The whispers in the corners fell silent.
As Maldrath's wrath echoed through the obsidian hall, the heavy silence was broken by soft, deliberate footsteps. From the shadows emerged Velmira, cloaked in deep violet and silver, her gaze sharp and calculating, her presence both elegant and lethal.
She bowed slightly, her voice calm yet cold.
"Do you want me to take this matter into my hands?"
Her fingers lightly touched the hilt of the dagger sheathed at her side.
"If you allow me, I will bring Arkan's head to you myself."
Maldrath turned to her, eyes narrowing. For a moment, silence stretched between them like a drawn blade.
Then he shook his head, voice low but firm.
"No."
He stepped closer, the fire in his gaze dimming to controlled embers.
"I need you here, Velmira. If Arkan has turned against us, we must assume he has a purpose. And I can't leave this sanctuary vulnerable—not when the boy has two echoes... and the Council has grown restless."
Velmira gave a subtle nod, though the gleam in her eyes suggested she still craved the hunt.
"As you command, my lord. But if he steps too close..."
She smiled faintly.
"...I won't wait for orders."
Maldrath smirked slightly, then turned his gaze to the dark horizon.
"Let him come."
ARCANE PRISON
Dim light flickered in the cold, stone cell as Elias sat slumped against the wall, breathing heavily. His body ached from the previous battle, and the blood on his face had dried into a crusted trail. Magical chains hummed faintly around his wrists, suppressing his energy. The silence was suffocating.
Then the whispers began again.
"Use it... you can break these bonds..."
"You have the strength... you've tasted it... the second echo lives in you..."
"Let go. Let us guide you. Let us free you..."
Elias clenched his teeth, his eyes squeezed shut.
"No... I won't..."
But the voice grew louder—more tempting.
"Do you want to rot here while your friends suffer? You can burn this prison to ash... with just a thought..."
His fingers twitched. His vision flickered, and he felt the shadow of the echo pulse through his veins. Magic coiled under his skin like a beast waiting to be unchained.
But then—
CLACK.
The sound of boots on stone.
The whispers ceased instantly like wind snuffed from a flame. Elias looked up sharply.
Varies stood just outside the barrier of his cell, arms folded behind his back, a calm and cold expression on his face. The faint magical barrier between them shimmered with his presence.
"Whispers already?" Varies said, voice low but mocking.
"You really are progressing faster than expected. I suppose we shouldn't have let you touch even the first echo."
Elias glared at him.
"You planned this. All of it. The mission, the ambush..."
Varies smiled faintly and stepped closer, lowering his voice.
"Planned? No, not entirely. But we did expect this outcome. You're a wildcard, Elias. A dangerous one. And the Arcane Council doesn't tolerate unpredictability."
He paused, tilting his head slightly.
"And you—choosing to bond with echoes instead of reporting them. You crossed a line."
Elias spat blood to the side.
"You're scared of me."
Varies chuckled.
"No. But we are... cautious. And don't mistake containment for fear. You're still just a boy playing with fire. And fire, Elias..."
He tapped the barrier with a single finger, sparking a brief surge of magic.
"...can burn down empires, or be extinguished before it spreads."
Elias stood slowly, even though the chains weighed him down.
"You're making a mistake. Whatever you're doing none of this ends how you think it will."
Varies leaned closer, whispering just above a breath.
"Perhaps. But the question is... will you still be Elias when it ends?"
With that, he turned and walked away, his silhouette swallowed by the shadows—leaving Elias alone again in silence... except for the faint return of the whispers.
The clinking of chains echoed faintly in the distance, barely audible over the humming magic that pulsed through the walls of the Arcane Council's underground prison.
Faith sat alone on a cold, stone bench. Her wrists were shackled by enchanted cuffs, and a soft blue light glowed from the runes etched into the cell walls—constant suppression magic keeping her weakened. There were no windows, no clocks, only silence and cold.
She stared down at her hands, fingers trembling slightly.
"Where are they?" she whispered.
"Elias... "
She closed her eyes tightly, remembering Elias being struck, the chaos of the attack, the chains wrapping around their bodies, and Dante... forced to run, the look in his eyes as Alice flung him away.
Her fists clenched.
"They tore us apart..."
A sound came from above—maybe water dripping. Or a trick of her exhausted mind.
She looked up, eyes filled with quiet fire.
"You think isolating us will break us?" she muttered to the room. "You have no idea what we've survived together."
She stood slowly, knees shaky, but her expression hardened with defiance.
"You can chain my magic... but not my will."
She stepped forward, testing the edge of the barrier on the cell door, and the energy hissed, pushing her back slightly.
She didn't flinch.
"I'll find them again. No matter what."
Then quietly, under her breath:
"Elias... stay strong."
The thick woods were silent save for the rustling of leaves and Dante's footsteps against the damp earth. His cloak was torn, his eyes red, and every now and then he stumbled from exhaustion—but he didn't stop.
"Elias...Alice...Faith...Logan...Vance..Dorian... I'll get you out," he muttered, brushing a branch aside.
Suddenly—a whistle cut through the air.
He froze.
In the next second, three figures dropped from the trees, cloaked and masked. One of them pointed a blade at Dante's neck, glowing with subtle enchantment.
"You've been followed," one said coldly.
"Speak. Who are you?"
Dante raised his hands.
"I don't want trouble. My name's Dante—Dante Voss."
The name didn't ease their stance. Another cloaked figure circled around him.
"Dante... Voss?" the tallest one repeated, voice sharper now.
"Why does that sound familiar?"
Another stepped forward, lowering his mask just slightly, revealing amber eyes.
"Wait... Voss. You're that kid... student of Dorian ?"
Dante blinked.
"You know Dorian?"
They exchanged glances. The tension shifted.
"Everyone out here knows him. He helped some of us escape when the Council wanted our heads."
"He's been captured," Dante said, voice bitter. "They betrayed him. Took him and my friends. I'm trying to save them."
The air grew still.
One of the men sheathed his blade.
"So the Council turned on him too..."
A woman with a mark of old runes across her arm stepped forward.
"If Dorian's been taken, it means the Council's gone too far. Again."
She looked at Dante. "You're trying to break into the Arcane City alone?"
"I'll do whatever I have to."
Silence.
Then the amber-eyed one smirked.
"You're reckless. But Dorian trusted you enough to train you."
He turned to the others.
"What do you say? Time we repay some old debts?"
The group nodded one by one.
"We're with you," the woman said, her hand on Dante's shoulder.
"Let's shake the foundation of that golden prison."
Dante exhaled, finally feeling like hope wasn't lost.
"Thank you... I won't forget this."
As the rogue mages began organizing themselves, Dante turned toward the three who first confronted him.
Dante: "If we're doing this together... I'd like to know your names."
The tall one with amber eyes gave a small grin.
"Name's Kael. Used to be in the Academy's elite division before I left. Too many rules. Too many lies."
He offered a gloved hand, and Dante shook it firmly.
The woman with rune-carved arms stepped forward next, her eyes sharp but warm.
"I'm Seris. Don't let the tattoos fool you—I'm not a war mage anymore. I left when the Council ordered us to burn a village just to root out one dark user. I don't follow blind orders."
Lastly, the quiet one with the dual blades strapped to his back gave a small nod. His voice was low and smooth.
"Rein. I don't talk much. But if Dorian saved you... you've earned my blades."
Dante looked at each of them with a newfound sense of hope.
Dante: "Kael, Seris, Rein... thank you. Let's bring them back."
The cell was cold and dimly lit, humming faintly with magical runes pulsing along the walls. Elias sat against the wall, his fists clenched, frustration burning behind his eyes. Suddenly, a faint click echoed through the silence. His eyes shot up.
Footsteps—soft, precise.
From the shadows, a hooded figure emerged.
Elias (sharply): "Who's there?! Come out!"
The figure stepped into the light. It was Selina.
Selina: "Elias... it's me."
Elias (hostile): "How did you get in here? Who sent you? Don't play games with me!"
Selina raised her hands slowly in a calming gesture.
Selina: "Don't be afraid. Dorian sent me... before he was captured. He trusted only a few of us. He told me to get this to you."
She handed Elias a worn file. On the cover, a name was scrawled in fading ink: CARTER.
Elias's breath caught in his throat.
Selina: "I know this is hard. But trust me. You need to see what's in that file when the time is right."
She looked around nervously, then extended her hand toward the cell's rune lock. Her fingers glowed with intricate golden magic, threading through the lock's enchantment.
Selina: "I'm getting you out."
Click. Whirrr. CRACK.
The magical cell seal shattered.
But then—BOOM!
A second layer of magic flared red across the ceiling. A burst of energy flew upward like a signal.
Elias (alarmed): "What was that?!"
Selina (grim): "An alarm rune... they built a secondary trigger into the cell!"
—
Above – Arcane Council Tower
Varies stood by the upper window when he felt the tremor.
A guard rushed in.
Guard: "Sir! Sector 7—the prisoner's cell has been breached!"
Varies (coldly): "So... he makes his move. Send every available enforcer. I'll deal with this personally."
—
Back in the Dungeon
Selina and Elias sprinted through the winding corridors. Two guards turned the corner with raised staves.
Guard: "Stop!"
But before they could react, Selina fired a piercing arc of golden energy, slamming one against the wall. Elias leapt into the other, using a burst of his own magic to pin the man down with force.
More guards closed in, blades drawn, chanting spells.
Selina (panting): "There's too many! You need to go—now!"
Elias (hesitating): "I'm not leaving you!"
Selina: "You have to! I'll hold them. Go!"
But as Elias turned to run, more soldiers poured in from both ends of the hall. One pinned his arm. Another blasted his side with a paralyzing enchantment.
He dropped to one knee.
Chains bound him.
Selina (shouting): "No!"
Varies (arriving, voice like steel): "I expected more from the Forsaken."
The soldiers formed a circle.
Elias looked up—his eyes darkening, breath heavy. Then... the whispers came.
Nyxoth's Voice (echoing faintly in his mind): "Let go... You need me now. Break them."
A low hum grew around Elias.
Selina: "Elias, no—"
Elias (coldly whispering): "I don't have a choice."
The echo took over.
His eyes bled black and silver. A pulse of energy erupted from his body, blasting the guards into the walls. Blood splattered. Screams followed.
His chains shattered like glass.
He turned to Varies—who raised a barrier just in time as Elias hurled a spiraling beam of dark force.
Elias looked around.
The walls of the council hall cracked and exploded outward with a roar.
He leapt through the destruction, escaping into the night as the Arcane City's alarms rang across the sky.
Selina, bruised but standing, gave a small smile as she vanished into the smoke.
Smoke curled from the shattered stone and glowing embers still clung to the collapsed corridor walls. The magic flare had long dimmed, but its remnants still pulsed faintly—like a dying heartbeat. The place where Elias had stood moments ago now lay fractured, bleeding fragments of stone and silence.
Selina was on her knees, her body scorched, one side of her face singed by magical backlash. Her breath came shallow, but steady. Blood dripped slowly from her temple, trailing down the corner of her mouth. Her hands trembled from the strain of everything she had just done—but her eyes... her eyes still held fire.
Footsteps echoed through the hollow space, slow, deliberate. The kind of steps made by someone who wasn't rushing... someone who knew there was nowhere left to run.
Varies.
He emerged from the smoke like a shadow cloaked in royalty, his dark purple robes untouched, pristine amidst the ruin, his pale eyes colder than the steel in the guards that followed him.
He stopped in front of Selina, looking down with quiet, venomous disgust.
"You helped him escape," he said softly, like a whisper of death. "You betrayed the Council... for him."
Selina coughed, wiping the blood from her lip with the back of her hand, and smiled—weak, but defiant.
"I'd do it again."
Varies tilted his head slightly, then gave a nod.
"Guards, step back."
The guards hesitated. Even they felt it—the unnatural stillness in the air, the coiling malice emanating from Varies like a spell ready to snap. Their training told them to obey. Their instincts screamed otherwise.
Varies raised his hand.
And then... it began.
He didn't strike her down quickly. No blade. No mercy.
With a flick of his fingers, veins of magic slithered through the air, burrowing into Selina's flesh. She gritted her teeth as the spell twisted her nerves, forcing pain through her like fire.
Bones cracked—not all at once, but slowly, methodically. Her left arm bent unnaturally at the elbow, her fingers contorted, one by one, breaking backwards as if being rewritten. Her ribs splintered audibly, puncturing through skin. Blood bubbled in her mouth as one leg twisted sideways and snapped from the thigh.
Still, she didn't scream.
Even the guards—seasoned warriors, trained in blood and steel—turned their faces away, some swallowing hard, one even retching quietly in the corner.
Selina collapsed forward onto her side, twitching, her body broken and malformed, but her eyes still open. She looked toward the fractured wall where Elias had escaped. A faint smile touched her lips—soft, almost peaceful.
Because he got away.
That was enough.
Varies knelt beside her, his voice calm, his expression that of a scholar noting a failed experiment.
"You smiled," he murmured. "Even now."
Selina blinked blood from her lashes, mouth barely forming the word:
"Hope."
With a final twist of his hand, Varies turned her spine into dust.
Her body went still.
He rose, breathing steady, and turned to his guards, who stood frozen in place, eyes wide with horror.
"This woman was killed by Elias Carter," he said, his voice echoing in the chamber, each word sharpened like a dagger. "She tried to stop him. He retaliated. Let the report be clear."
One of the guards flinched but nodded.
"Y-Yes... Councillor."
Varies looked once more at Selina's broken form, the blood seeping into the ancient stones.
"Let this be a lesson," he whispered, turning away. "No traitor lives long enough to regret."
The silence that followed felt like the city itself was holding its breath.
END OF CHAPTER 16
Hey everyone! If you're reading this, please drop a comment AND THANK YOU FOR READING.