Darkness came first.
Formless.
Without limit.
Then—
air rushed in.
Abrupt.
Tearing through her throat.
Brianna dragged in a breath as if she had been submerged for too long, her chest rising fast, uneven.
Her body lagged — heavy, distant, as if it still didn't fully belong to her.
Another breath.
Shorter.
The sharp pain came with it.
Throbbing at the side of her head, pulsing in waves that scrambled any attempt at thought.
She brought a hand to her temple by instinct, fingers pressing as if that could contain it. It didn't.
Her body tightened, just a fraction.
Air slipped out through her teeth.
"…ah—"
Low. Almost nothing.
Her eyes opened.
It took a second longer to focus.
Shadows began to form around her, still without defined edges. Everything seemed distant, as if she were looking through water.
She blinked.
Once.
Again.
The shapes began to align.
statues—
Tall.
Still.
Too close.
Frozen in expressions that did not belong to stone.
Her heart picked up a little more.
Brianna didn't move right away.
Her breathing still uneven, trying to find rhythm.
The silence around her didn't help.
It was heavy.
Wrong.
She turned her head a fraction, her eyes trying to follow the movement of her own body, still delayed.
"…how long…"
Her voice came out low, hoarse, breaking in the middle of the sentence.
She closed her eyes for a second, organizing the bare minimum.
When she opened them again, there was more focus.
Her hand searched for support on the ground.
Cold.
Solid.
She pulled her body up slowly, first sitting, her balance still unstable.
Her vision threatened to fail for a moment — darkening at the edges — but it returned.
She pushed a little more.
Stood.
Air rushed in once more, less violent. Still insufficient.
Brianna remained standing for a second longer, feeling her own weight settle into her body. The pain in her head hadn't gone — it had only settled, pulsing deeper, slower.
The silence around her pressed in.
The statues did not move.
But they didn't seem… empty.
Her gaze moved across the hall without hurry, trying to align what she saw with what she could still think.
Memory came in fragments.
Too broken to form meaning.
She brought her hand to her head again, pressing lightly this time.
"…Kaelir…"
The name came out low, almost caught between one breath and the next.
A pause.
Her gaze shifted a degree.
"…Karna…"
She swallowed hard.
The body responded a little better to the first step — still heavy, but obeying.
She walked.
Slow at first.
Adjusting her balance with each movement.
The double doors appeared ahead.
Brianna stopped for half a second.
Her hand rose — hesitated for the smallest instant before touching the wood.
Pushed.
The door gave with weight.
The sound died almost instantly in the space itself, as if the castle refused any echo.
On the other side, the corridor stretched long, immersed in a dimness that didn't come from the absence of light… but from the presence of something that absorbed it.
Brianna stepped forward.
Stopped.
Her hand lowered slowly to her palm.
Her fingers closed.
A quick cut.
Precise.
Blood ran.
Warm.
Alive.
She didn't raise her voice.
She didn't need to.
"Monstra mihi viam quae nos sanguine iungit." (Show me the path that binds us by blood)
The ancient tongue came out low, firm enough… but not perfect.
The blood touched the ground.
For an instant, nothing.
Then—
it moved.
Spread into a thin, luminous trace, slithering across the stone as if it recognized the path before it even existed.
Brianna watched.
Closed her hand, the blood still running between her fingers.
Her gaze followed the line as it moved down the corridor.
Her breathing stabilized another degree.
Enough.
Without saying anything else, she began to walk.
Following.
One step.
Then another.
Air rushed in steadier this time.
Memory came without warning.
Not whole.
Fragments.
Voice.
Weight.
Presence—
"Heres Salemensis… per hos annos te exspectavi." (Heir of Salem… I have waited for you)
The sound wasn't loud.
But it filled everything.
"Quomodo…?" (How…?)
"Die illo… omnes Textores Viarum occidi vidi…" (That day… I saw all the Weavers of Paths die...)
One step.
The blood still guided.
"Sanguis populi mei effusus est." (The blood of my people was spilled)
"Fere omnis." (Almost all.)
"Sed avia tua… Shannon… iam sciebat." (But your grandmother… Shannon… already knew.)
Her fingers tightened a little more.
The cut opened further.
"Quid dicis…?" (What are you talking about…?)
"De ea." (About her.)
"Ambitionem eius praedixi." (I foresaw her ambition.)
"Et quo illa via duceret." (And where that path would lead.)
"Ad ruinam nostram." (To our ruin.)
The corridor seemed longer.
Or deeper.
"Cur non substitistis…?" (And why didn't you stop her…?)
"Quia Shannon intellexit." (Because Shannon understood.)
"Finem vitari non posse." (That the end could not be avoided.)
"Ita… quod restabat fecit." (So… she did what remained.)
"Fidem suam… in te posuit." (She placed her faith… in you.)
The air grew heavy.
Again.
A touch.
Cold.
On her forehead.
"Ut promisi…" (And as I promised…)
"hic finem invenio." (here I find my end)
The voice didn't change.
But it grew more distant.
"Cum ultimos nexus texuero… spiritus meus deficiet." (When I weave the last paths... my spirit will fail.)
"Et cum eo… linea nostra finietur." (And with it… our line will end.)
The blood on the ground hesitated for an instant.
Then moved on.
"Sed puer ille… Kaelir…" (But that boy… Kaelir…)
"ultima mea semen erit." (will be my last seed.)
"Portator." (The bearer.)
Brianna's breath failed for half a second.
"Vias videre non poterit." (He will not see the paths.)
"Sed super eas ambulabit." (But he will still walk upon them.)
Silence.
Heavy.
No return.
"Ergo…" (So…)
"doce eum vivere." (teach him to survive.)
"In mundo quod veteres iterum tangunt." (In a world where the ancients walk again.)
"Si quid ex Shannon manet… eum ducet." (If anything of Shannon still remains… it will guide him.)
Eyes.
Blue.
Gold.
"Nunc… accipe." (Now… receive.)
Dark.
Brianna blinked.
The corridor returned.
The blood still moved ahead — a thin, living line, guiding.
She moved forward.
Firm step.
The line slithered across the stone until it stopped before a tall door, without ornament.
Closed.
Brianna stopped only when the blood touched the base of the wood… and ceased.
Her breathing now steady.
The pain distant enough not to interfere.
The hand marked by the cut rested for an instant on the cold surface.
Then pushed.
The door gave without resistance.
On the other side, nothing.
The space existed… but did not show itself.
A void too clean to be natural.
Brianna didn't step back.
Her gaze crossed what could not be seen.
She read it.She felt it.
A slight shift at the corner of her mouth.
Almost a smile.
Contained.
Air slipped out low.
"…still hiding in the most predictable way possible."
She stepped in.
Moved to the center of the room, her breathing already under control.
"Phasmatos."
Flames rose from the ground, forming a circle that flickered around her.
The light intensified at the center.
"Via occulta mihi revelatur et iubeo ut mihi pareant."
Heat closed around the circle.
Space yielded.
For an instant—
nothing.
Then—
The ground became damp. The air, heavy and cold.
Irregular walls emerged — ancient, sealed, too alive to be only stone.
The shadows… were not still.
"Illumina."
Torches lit along the walls, revealing what did not want to be seen before.
The corridor stretched narrow, leading straight to the door at the end.
Brianna advanced without hurry.
The wood gave at her touch.
On the other side, aligned cells revealed themselves, bodies compressed into what little space remained — women, pregnant, young, trapped in broken breaths.
Before the altar, four priests.
Still.
Dead.
The air did not move.
Brianna's gaze moved across the space.
Slow.
Measuring.
It passed the cells, the compressed bodies, the blood that still marked the ground… until it stopped.
On the altar.
A girl.
Sitting.
Black hair, disheveled, falling over her face.
Deep brown eyes, fixed on her — not in defiance.
In fear.
Pale skin marked by scratches and shallow cuts.
The white garments… were no longer white.
Brianna approached slowly.
"N-no… don't—"
The girl's voice broke before finishing.
Her body recoiled against the altar itself, as if there were nowhere to run.
Brianna stopped.
Did not advance further.
Her hands rose slowly.
Open.
Without threat.
Green filaments emerged between her fingers, thin, soft, wrapping the girl without pressure.
"Sana vulnera."
Her voice came low.
Firm.
The cuts began to close.
Skin restoring where it had been broken.
The girl's breathing still uneven… but alive.
Brianna looked away.
To the bodies.
To the circle.
To the name carved in the stone.
Her lips moved, almost without sound.
"…Moloch."
The weight stayed in the air.
Then returned to the girl.
Her gaze firmer.
Controlled.
"I'm not here to hurt you."
She turned.
Now to the cells.
Silence answered.
"Phasmatos."
Golden filaments emerged around her, denser, more alive.
Her white eyes glowed.
The light intensified.
The threads began to move, slither through the space, wrapping around bars, touching every body, every presence.
Brianna raised her hands.
The air vibrated.
"Transvehite ad tutum locum et protegam vos."
Space answered.
Forms failed.
For an instant—
presence.
Then—
absence.
The cells were empty.
Silence remained.
Brianna didn't move right away.
Her eyes swept the space once more, now without hurry — every corner, every shadow, every remnant that still insisted on remaining.
The golden filaments still slithered through the space, slow, as if searching for something that was no longer there.
she spoke.
Low.
Controlled.
"Per quem viam fugisti… ostende."
The filaments reacted.
Changed direction.
Converged.
One of the walls trembled.
Subtle at first.
Then gave.
The stone opened in irregular lines, revealing a hidden corridor behind it — narrow, deep, swallowed by darkness.
Brianna watched.
Without surprise.
Only confirmation.
Her gaze shifted one last time.
To the altar.
To the name still marked in the stone.
The filaments began to cease.
One by one.
The light going out like embers at the end.
Brianna turned.
She moved through the corridor in firm, silent steps, the sound nearly nonexistent against the damp stone.
The path stretched without deviation until, without visible transition, the space opened.
The forest opened before her.
Moonlight poured cold over her white hair, and the wind ran through the trees, carrying dry leaves and the smell of living earth.
She stopped.
Her eyes had already found them.
Guards. Waiting.
In position.
Aligned before the exit, turned directly toward where she emerged, as if they already knew.
Brianna raised her hands.
Green filaments coiled fast around her, alive for an instant… and ceased.
Her gaze remained steady on them.
No hurry.
No deviation.
"Always the same moves."
The youngest moved first.
Fast.
Impulsive.
His foot struck the ground hard, closing the distance in a straight line, the blade already descending in a vertical cut, seeking to end it before any reaction.
Brianna did not step back.
She waited.
Until the last instant.
Her body yielded half a step to the side, the cut passing close to her shoulder without touching. Her hand rose in the same movement, redirecting the knight's wrist out of line.
Minimal contact.
Total control.
She rotated her axis.
His arm was pulled with it, his body losing alignment.
Her knee rose short.
Direct.
It collided with the abdomen.
Air left.
The knight folded by reflex.
Brianna was already inside his guard.
Her hand slid to the elbow—
twist.
The joint gave with a dry crack.
The blade fell.
Before it hit the ground, she stepped forward, her shoulder colliding with the knight's chest and throwing him back.
The body hit the ground without support.
No air.
No immediate response.
Brianna did not pursue.
Her gaze had already shifted to the others.
They were already moving.
Without command.
Without hesitation.
The formation adjusted in silence — two in front, three opening at the sides, the rest closing behind.
Encircling.
Brianna didn't wait for it to close.
She advanced.
Broke the circle before it existed.
The first tried to intercept — blade rising to halt the advance.
Too late.
She entered inside.
Her hand struck the wrist, redirecting the line. Her body pressed into his in the same instant, eliminating the reach of the sword.
Her elbow rose.
Short.
Dry.
Direct impact to the neck.
Air locked.
The body gave.
She turned with it, already pulling the man's arm and placing him between herself and the next attack.
The second's blade pierced his own ally.
Mistake.
Brianna released the body.
Low.
Out of line.
Her leg swept the base of the attacker still trying to recover his weapon.
He fell.
She didn't stop.
Her heel came down straight onto his face.
One less.
The third came from the right, fast enough to close in.
The blade cut the air at torso height—
Brianna stepped back half a step.
Enough.
Her left hand deflected the wrist.
Her right rose straight to the eyes.
Contact.
Instinct.
He hesitated.
It was enough.
She rotated her axis, trapped the arm and used the knight's own momentum to throw him into the fourth advancing.
The two collided.
Lost alignment.
Brianna entered.
No room.No pause.
Two short strikes — throat, base of the skull.
Precise.
No excess.
Two bodies fell.
Now there were five.
They changed.
More cautious.
Less impulsive.
Brianna breathed through her nose.
Controlled.
Her body already loose.
Without tension.
The next came low, trying to force a mistake.
She didn't step back.
She gave the center.
Let the strike pass.
In the same movement, her knee rose, meeting the knight's face before he could correct his base.
The impact threw him back.
She followed.
One step.
Another.
Her hand grabbed the collar.
Pulled.
And the face met her knee a second time.
No return.
Four.
The remaining advanced together.
No opening.
No error.
Now it was pressure.
Brianna stepped back one step.
Then another.
Seeming to yield.
Calling.
It worked.
One of them advanced more than he should.
His base opened.
She entered the space in the same instant.
Her shoulder collided with his chest.
Unbalanced him.
Her hand rose to the jaw—
twist.
The body turned with it.
And was thrown straight into the one behind.
Both fell.
Brianna was already on them.
One direct strike to the throat of the first.
The second tried to react—
late.
She grabbed the fallen blade from the ground and drove it straight under the chin.
No unnecessary force.
Only precision.
Two less.
Two remained.
Now… they hesitated.
Little.
But enough.
Brianna gave them no time.
She advanced.
Fast.
Direct.
One tried to retreat.
The other to cover.
Neither managed to align.
She entered the space between them.
Low.
Turning.
Her leg swept the base of one.
The other tried to adjust—
She was already up.
Her fist came down.
A dry impact to the temple.
Immediate drop.
The last tried to react in desperation.
A wide cut.
No technique.No control.
Brianna avoided with a minimal step.
Entered.
One hand caught the wrist.
The other the elbow.
Twist.
Break.
The scream didn't even come out.
She pulled the body—
and finished it.
Silence.
The bodies were scattered.
No movement.
No sound.
Brianna remained standing.
Her breathing steady.
She turned.
Her gaze fell on the first.
Still on the ground.
"…how long do you intend to keep pretending?"
Silence.
Then—
a finger moved.
The face—
smiled.
The eyes opened.
Fixed on her.
Brianna did not react.
She already expected it.