Aeryn did not feel the impact when the world vanished beneath him. One heartbeat he stood upon the shattered marble of the Obsidian Tribunal, surrounded by the dying echoes of the Ascendant's chant, and the next he was swallowed by silence darker than any night he had ever known. No sense of falling. No sense of floating. Only a strange weightless presence extending in all directions, as though his body had dissolved into the very air.
What remained was awareness. And fear. And a fire burning steadily somewhere behind his ribs.
System. Where am I?
The system did not answer. Its presence, always faintly humming at the edge of his senses like a patient companion, was silent—no, not silent. Muted. As though someone had pressed a hand over its mouth.
Then the darkness rippled.
Aeryn felt something brush against him—soft, thin, and whisper-light, like strands of hair drifting underwater. They curled, wrapped, then retreated. Not physical. Not dangerous. Not yet.
A dim glow pulsed far ahead. Not a light, but a heartbeat. A colossal rhythm, slow, deep, resonating through bone and soul alike.
He moved toward it without moving. The world shifted around him, drawing him forward the way breath draws air.
The darkness peeled back.
And the cavern unveiled itself.
If it could be called a cavern. Space stretched infinitely around him, yet a ceiling of luminous veins arched high above like the roots of a colossal tree, each vein glowing with liquid light that flowed like molten starlight. The walls shimmered faintly, transparent and crystalline, revealing layer upon layer of shimmering currents beneath the surface.
Aeryn whispered to himself because silence here felt too large to face alone.
"What is this place...?"
A voice answered before the system could.
"It is the place beneath all places."
Aeryn turned sharply.
A figure stood upon the invisible ground beside him. Not a spirit. Not a memory. A person—or something wearing the shape of one. Tall, draped in robes of shifting silver threads, hair as pale as moon-frost drifting around a face too still to be mortal. Its eyes were the color of the deepest, ancient seas—blue not with pigment, but with depth.
Aeryn inhaled. "Who are you?"
"You may call me what your kind once did," the figure said softly. "The Veinkeeper."
Aeryn's brows furrowed. "I've never heard of that title."
"No," the Veinkeeper agreed gently. "Because your people forgot."
Aeryn waited.
The Veinkeeper turned, motioning across the shimmering expanse. "These are the World-Veins. The channels through which life, mana, and fate itself flow. They are the threads that bind continents, kingdoms, souls."
Aeryn's pulse quickened. "Why am I here?"
"You were brought." The Veinkeeper touched a fingertip to the nearest luminous vein. "Your system reacted to a disruption—a wound—carved deep into the structure of the world. You stand where no living creature has stood for ten thousand years."
Aeryn swallowed. "That wound… is it because of the Ascendant?"
The Veinkeeper's expression darkened subtly. "Partly."
The ground beneath them shuddered faintly. A low growl echoed from far below, like the rumble of earth shifting beneath crushing weight.
Aeryn stepped back automatically, though the invisible surface held firm. "What was that?"
"The wound."
He stared down—but there was no down. Only more layers of crystal, then luminous veins, then darkness stretching far beyond sight.
"What did he do…?" Aeryn whispered.
"He did what should have been impossible." The Veinkeeper's tone remained calm, but tension coiled beneath the quiet words. "He broke a Vein."
Aeryn felt ice crawl through his veins. "Broke—?"
The Veinkeeper nodded. "Yes. And you felt its consequences even before you arrived here."
The Ascendant's chant.
The distortion tearing through the Tribunal.
The way space crumpled like paper.
Aeryn clenched his jaw. "Can it be fixed?"
"That," the Veinkeeper said, "depends entirely on you."
Aeryn froze.
The Veinkeeper lifted their hand—not threatening, merely instructive. "Come. Look."
Aeryn followed.
They approached a cliff of crystalline glass that had no right to exist in a place so dreamlike. It rose high above them, shimmering faintly with fractures spiderwebbing across its impossible surface. In the center of it—a jagged tear like the wound of a blade.
Aeryn stepped closer.
The tear was not merely a crack. It pulsed. It bled darkness—pure, void-cold nothingness leaking outward like ink seeping from a broken vessel.
Aeryn felt pressure slam into him, foreign and hostile. Not mana. Not any force he recognized. Something older.
"What is that?"
"The Nether Verge," the Veinkeeper whispered. "A place beyond the world. A realm where existence collapses into raw potential and unshaped hunger."
Aeryn's skin prickled. "Why is it leaking here?"
"Because someone on your surface tampered with a seal older than your world's histories. Someone returned to your land a relic that should never have resurfaced."
Aeryn's eyes narrowed. "The black sigils… the corrupted runes in the capital… The Ascendant's blade—"
"All pieces of the same truth."
Aeryn exhaled slowly. "What do you want from me?"
The Veinkeeper turned and looked directly into his eyes. "To mend this."
Aeryn stared.
"I'm… not capable of that," he said. "I'm not strong enough yet."
"Your strength is irrelevant." Their voice softened. "You were chosen because your system is not native to this world."
Aeryn stiffened.
"You hold a structure that does not belong to the Veins, and therefore is unaffected by the wound. That makes you the only being capable of stitching the world without being consumed."
Something cold and immense settled within Aeryn's chest. "So I'm a tool."
"No," the Veinkeeper corrected firmly. "You are a thread that does not obey the loom. An anomaly capable of reforging pattern."
Aeryn exhaled. "What must I do?"
The Veinkeeper raised their hand. A breath of cold air swept around them. A thread of light extended from the nearest vein—and attached itself like silk to Aeryn's wrist.
He swallowed. "What—"
"It is a binding," the Veinkeeper said. "A temporary conduit. It will grant you the ability to interact with the World-Veins directly."
Aeryn stared at the faint glowing thread now connected to him. It pulsed faintly, in rhythm with his heartbeat—or perhaps forcing his heartbeat to match its rhythm.
"Be warned," the Veinkeeper added quietly. "If the Nether Verge expands, the world will unravel layer by layer. Kingdoms will crumble. Seas will boil. Souls will dissolve into nothing."
"Then I'll stop it," Aeryn said, with a calmness that surprised even him.
The Veinkeeper studied him for a long moment. "You accept without hesitation."
Aeryn's gaze hardened. "The surface is my responsibility. My people. My companions. My world. I will not let it dissolve."
A faint smile ghosted across their lips—too ancient to be human, but touched with something akin to approval. "Then listen."
The Veinkeeper raised their staff—Aeryn hadn't noticed it before—and the cavern trembled with shifting light.
"There are three layers to the wound," they said. "Three tasks you must complete."
Aeryn straightened. "Tell me."
"First," the Veinkeeper said, "you must reach the surface breach, where the Vein was damaged from above. There, you must locate the anchor—the artifact used to pierce the Vein."
"The Ascendant's blade."
"Yes."
"Destroy it?"
"No." Their eyes gleamed with cold certainty. "You must bind it."
Aeryn frowned. "Bind it… to what?"
"To yourself."
Aeryn felt his heart stutter. "You mean—absorb it?"
"Yes."
"That's—insane."
"Correct."
Aeryn inhaled sharply. Silence fell. Then he nodded once. "Next."
"Second," the Veinkeeper said, "you must descend."
"Descend where?"
"To the mid-Vein chambers. The wound bleeds both upward and downward. You must close the flow toward the Nether Verge."
Aeryn felt pressure tighten around his temples. "And the third?"
"The core."
Aeryn stilled.
"The very heart of the Veins," the Veinkeeper said softly. "Where all mana is born. Where the wound originates, where the Verge seeks to break through. If that point is not sealed, everything else will fail."
Aeryn was silent for a long time. "Can someone guide me there?"
"No one can enter the core except one who carries the anomaly."
Aeryn closed his eyes. "Of course."
The Veinkeeper lowered their staff, dimming the cavern slightly. "Are you afraid?"
Aeryn opened his eyes. "Yes."
"Good." A rare flicker of warmth touched their voice. "Fear keeps you from reckless death."
Aeryn huffed softly. "Anything else I should know?"
"Yes."
The Veinkeeper lifted their hand. Light gathered around their palm—growing brighter, heavier, until it condensed into a single crystalline shard no larger than a fingernail. Yet its presence shook the cavern.
Aeryn blinked. "What is that?"
"The Heart Shard. A fragment of the original seal. With this, your system will be able to withstand the Act of Binding."
Aeryn extended his hand.
"Be warned," the Veinkeeper added. "If your resolve falters even for a breath, the shard will consume your existence entirely. You will become part of the Vein. Forever."
Aeryn's fingers wrapped around it without hesitation.
Light detonated around him.
Aeryn gasped. The shard melted into his skin like molten silver, racing up his arm, across his chest, searing itself into the center of his sternum. A sigil flared there—complex, spiraling, rotating slowly in layers upon layers of shifting geometric patterns.
The system roared to life, screaming static into his mind.
> [SYSTEM OVERRIDE DETECTED]
[NEW AUTHORITY: VEIN-TOUCHED]
[WORLD-ANOMALY THREAD BOUND]
[WARNING: CORE DESTABILIZATION IMMINENT]
[PROCEED]
Aeryn staggered—but did not fall. He gritted his teeth, breath sharp, body trembling as if lightning surged through each muscle.
The Veinkeeper watched him with unreadable eyes.
"You accepted more easily than I expected."
Aeryn exhaled slowly. "I don't have the luxury of hesitation."
"Then your path begins now," the Veinkeeper said. "When you return to the surface, the world will already be shifting. Those connected to the Veins will sense what you now carry."
Aeryn's expression sharpened. "Enemies?"
"And allies," the Veinkeeper said. "If you are wise enough to find them before the others do."
Aeryn nodded, breath steadying. "Send me back."
The Veinkeeper touched his forehead with one finger.
"Remember, Aeryn of the anomaly… threads can break. But they can also be woven anew."
Light erupted.
The World-Veins dissolved.
The cavern faded.
And Aeryn's body reformed upon the surface—on his knees, in the ruins of the Tribunal, beneath a sky split open by cracks of luminous white.
The first signs of the wound reaching the world above.
Aeryn rose slowly, eyes burning with new light.
He whispered to himself, calm and resolute.
"It begins."