Chapter 295: Timely warning

Morgan’s breath hitched slightly.

Within him the Void World flared instinctively, a cold knot forming in his stomach.

"What are you talking about?"

​"You went somewhere you were not meant to survive, and then, " Velagrew said, his voice dropping into a solemn, heavy tone. " against all odds you survived."

"And when you crawled back out into the sun, you did not come back alone."

​Morgan’s jaw set tightly. "I came back by myself."

​"Your body did, perhaps," Velagrew corrected softly.

"But woven into the very structure of your spirit...I feel an echo. A foreign presence, immensely old, resting within the deep bedrock of your Void."

​Morgan remembered the suffocating, ancient weight beneath the mountain, the black egg, the terrifying presence of Nythrakar, and the strange, quiet assimilation that had occurred in the dark.

Is it dangerous?" Morgan asked directly, dropping all pretense.

​"Almost certainly," Velagrew replied without hesitation.

​Morgan let out a short, humorless breath. "Great."

​"To you?" Velagrew paused, his depthless eyes reflecting the faint, pale flame of the hearth.

"Possibly. It depends on whether you control the abyss, or whether you allow the abyss, and whatever slumbers inside it—to control you."

​Morgan stared at the Sovereign, his mind racing.

"Why did you bring me here, Velagrew? You didn’t invite me into the Realm Between just to give me a cryptic diagnosis."

​Velagrew set both hands flat on the slate table. The subtle spatial distortions in the room settled, the air becoming quiet and heavy.

"I summoned you because you have attracted attention," Velagrew said simply.

​"From whom?"

​"That depends on which world you are standing in," Velagrew answered smoothly.

"You are a mortal born with an innate Void World. You carry a celestial light that should have consumed your dark nature, yet it synchronized instead."

"You descended beneath the Zeregran Ranges, touched something ancient that should have obliterated your mind, and walked out alive."

​Velagrew leaned in slightly, his voice chillingly precise.

"You have begun to touch forces that were never intended to intersect. "

"You are creating ripples, Morgan. And those ripples are beginning to reach beings who normally have no reason to look toward the mortal realm."

Morgan’s expression remained dark, though a touch of his usual dry edge resurfaced.

"So what? I’m some chosen weapon of fate?"

​"Hardly," Velagrew replied with a faint, dry chuckle.

"Fate is a concept invented by mortals who need comfort when things go wrong. You are not a chosen one, Morgan Thane."

"You are simply an anomaly who refuses to die when the reality itself says otherwise."

​Morgan let out a quiet breath through his nose.

"I’ll take that as a compliment."

​"It was an observation," Velagrew said.

​Silence settled over the table once more. Morgan looked at the dark porcelain cup, then at the Sovereign sitting across from him.

A question that had been burning in his mind since his feverish sleep beneath the cabin roof rose to the surface.

He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then looked straight into Velagrew’s depthless eyes.

​"I saw you," Morgan said quietly.

​Velagrew’s expression did not change, but a subtle stillness settled over his posture.

"Did you?"

​"In a vision. Or a dream," Morgan continued, watching the Lord’s face for any sign of deception.

"A high terrace of white stone above the clouds. You were standing there, speaking with someone else. A man dressed in gold and light."

​Velagrew said nothing, listening in silence.

​" Alsterius," Morgan said, his voice dropping lower.

"And he told you... ’You’ve acquired one of mine."

​A quiet flicker of interest passed through Velagrew’s dark eyes.

"He did say that, yes."

"Was it a dream?" Morgan asked.

​Velagrew looked at him thoughtfully.

"Was it?"

​"That’s not an answer."

​"It is the only answer that matters," Velagrew replied calmly.

"Whether it was a memory of the world, a reflection in the Realm Between, or a leak in your own expanding perception does not change the truth of what was said."

​Morgan leaned forward, his hands tightening into fists against the slate table.

"He was talking about Valerius."

​"Yes," Velagrew confirmed simply.

​"Why?"

Morgan pressed.

"Who is Valerius? And what price did he pay to walk between the worlds?"

Velagrew stared at Morgan for a long, silent moment.

The pale flame in the hearth flickered, casting long, still shadows across the dark floor.

​"Alsterius believes that because a light once touched a man, that man forever belongs to the sun," Velagrew said softly, his voice carrying an ancient, bitter resonance.

"He considers Valerius his property because of where Valerius began."

​"And you?" Morgan asked.

"I consider Valerius mine because of where he chose to stand," Velagrew answered.

​"So who owns him?" Morgan demanded. Velagrew offered a small, cold smile.

"That is the wrong question, Morgan."

​"Then what’s the right one?"

"Why does Alsterius believe he has the right to claim anyone who seeks to walk their own path?" Velagrew replied quietly.

He slowly stood up from the table, his dark coat falling smoothly back into place.

"Valerius paid a price that is his own to bear. Do not pry into his debts, assassin. You have enough of your own."

​Velagrew walked toward the massive glass wall, looking out at the ruined, floating fragments of the Realm Between.

​"I brought you here to give you a warning," Velagrew said, his back turned to Morgan.

"Not a threat, but a necessity for your survival. Your Void World is evolving. The synchronization with your light is expanding your footprint upon reality. With every threshold you cross, you become louder to those who listen from the dark."

Morgan slowly stood up from his chair, wincing slightly as he transferred his weight onto his splinted leg.

"I already know how to hide my presence. I’ve been doing it for a while."

​Velagrew turned his head slightly, looking back over his shoulder.

His obsidian eyes caught the faint, pale light of the hearth.

​"You know how to hide from men, Morgan," Velagrew said softly, his voice carrying a weight that made the air in the chamber grow icy cold.

"You know how to conceal yourself from guards, from targets, and from rival killers."

​The Sovereign turned fully, taking a single, silent step toward Morgan.

I am telling you," Velagrew warned, "to learn how to conceal yourself from things that do not think like men. Beings who do not look for blood, but for the resonance of a Void World waking up."

The warning hung in the air like a heavy, unseen chain. Morgan stood his ground, feeling the cold weight of the words settle deep into his chest.

​"You have spent your life learning how to kill things stronger than you," Velagrew added quietly.

"Now... learn how to survive things that do not need to fight you."

​Morgan remained silent for a long moment. He didn’t ask for further explanation. He simply gave a single, firm nod.

​"I’ll remember," Morgan said raspy.

​He turned toward the heavy iron doors, preparing to take his leave.

​"Morgan," Velagrew called out softly.

​Morgan stopped, pausing near the threshold without turning around.

"Yes?"

Velagrew’s voice echoed gently against the slate walls, quiet yet impossibly clear.

​"Whatever you believe yourself to be whatever names or roles others try to force upon you..." ℯℯ𝑙.

Velagrew paused, his tone dropping into a rare, solemn cadence.

"...do not allow them to decide it for you. An assassin who loses his own identity becomes nothing more than a weapon in someone else’s hand."

​Morgan’s breath hitched slightly.

The words struck a strange, quiet chord deep within him.

​He didn’t reply. Instead, he pushed the heavy iron door open and stepped out into the dark corridor beyond.

​Valerius was waiting exactly where Morgan had left him, leaning silently against the unpolished slate wall with his arms crossed over his armored chest.

As the heavy doors swung closed behind Morgan, Valerius straightened up, his unreadable eyes scanning the young man’s pale face.

​"How did it go?" Valerius asked quietly.

​Morgan took a slow, measured breath, letting the icy air of the hall clear his lungs. He leaned slightly against the wall to take the pressure off his leg.

​"Your master is strange," Morgan muttered.

​A tiny, subtle twitch touched the corner of Valerius’s mouth.

"That’s a generous description."

​"He talks in riddles, gives terrifying advice, and acts like he knows everything," Morgan added, a faint trace of his usual dry edge returning to his voice as he started walking slowly down the corridor.

"Let’s get back to the carriage. At least cold mountain air makes sense."

After a few paces, Morgan paused. He turned his head, glancing back down the long, silent corridor toward the heavy iron doors of Velagrew’s chamber.

​For a fraction of a second, deep within his chest, Morgan’s Void World pulsed.

​It was a strange, quiet sensation.

For the briefest instant, as that pulse rippled outward, Morgan felt an uncanny sensation touch his spirit.

​Something about Velagrew, about the absolute silence of his presence, felt strangely, terrifyingly familiar to the innate nature of the Void itself.

​Morgan frowned, his brow furrowing as he closed his fingers into a tight fist, forcing the energy back down into his Void.

"What are you really?" Morgan thought silently, looking at the dark iron doors one last time.

Turning on his heel, Morgan limped forward alongside Valerius, stepping back into the path that would lead them out of the Realm Between.

Volume 2: End of Arc One - Of Forgotten gods and kings.