The night tasted of metal.
An eerie stillness hung over the abandoned district as if the city itself was holding its breath. The air was cold, sharp enough to sting, the kind of cold that forced people to keep their thoughts close and their fears closer. The streetlights flickered—no, trembled—as if something unseen walked past them.
Eiryn Vassir felt that tremble inside his bones.
His footsteps echoed softly on the cracked pavement as he walked deeper into the isolated quarter of Halcyon Ridge. Once, this part of the city had been alive with neon markets and street musicians. Now it was a graveyard of broken signs and hollow windows, all drained of color—like the world was rejecting its own reflection.
It wasn't the place that made Eiryn uneasy.
It was the silence inside him.
Because tonight, Helunsntion wasn't quiet.
A faint vibration stirred behind his ribs—like whispers brushing against a locked door. His Manifestation mark on his left wrist burned with a slow pulse, the ink-like black vein twisting faintly beneath the skin, alive.
"You're restless," Eiryn murmured to himself.
Or rather, to the thing inside him.
Helunsntion.
The "hidden mind."
The disease—or curse—that awakened when a person's suppressed thoughts grew strong enough to shape reality. It was a power system, a manifestation system, a madness system—all in one.
But to Eiryn, it was simply an unwanted companion.
He felt another pulse under his skin, sharper this time.
Not dangerous… just aware.
"Not now," he whispered.
"I need my head clear."
The whispering in his mind dimmed, but didn't disappear.
Helunsntion never disappeared.
It only waited. Patient. Hungry. Curious.
Eiryn stopped at the entrance of an old underpass where the shadows seemed thicker than they should be. A subtle, unnatural darkness pooled in the corners—too dense, too deliberate.
Someone was here.
Someone who wanted to be seen.
"Come out," Eiryn said quietly.
For a long moment, nothing happened.
Then a figure stepped from the darkness, the shadows peeling off him like wet ink.
Kael.
Eiryn's expression softened instantly.
Kael's presence always did that to him, grounding him in a way nothing else could.
Kael's eyes—sharp, tired, but gentle—studied him carefully.
"You came faster than I expected," Kael said.
Eiryn shrugged, hands in pockets. "You said it was urgent."
"It is," Kael replied. "It's him."
Eiryn's heartbeat slowed.
Then dropped.
Then rose again, too fast.
"Him" could only mean one person.
Riven Hallow.
The prodigy.
The anomaly.
The one whose Helunsntion manifested not as a whisper—but as a scream.
A boy whose suppressed emotions were so violent they rewrote reality around him.
A boy whose power Eiryn had seen firsthand.
A boy who was now missing.
Kael gestured for him to follow. "There's something you need to see."
They walked together in silence. Their footsteps echoed off the cracked concrete, the world dimming further with every step they took. Eiryn felt the air tighten, like an invisible pressure pushing against his lungs.
Kael kept glancing at him, concern etched in every line of his face.
"You look pale," Kael whispered.
"I'm fine."
"You're lying."
Eiryn didn't respond.
Kael didn't push.
Instead, he pulled out a small vial from his coat. A swirling dark mist floated inside, shifting like liquid shadow.
Eiryn frowned. "Is that—"
"Yes," Kael said. "A residual imprint of Riven's manifestation."
Eiryn stopped walking. "How strong?"
Kael exhaled shakily. "Strong enough that five trained Manifesters couldn't get near it without losing grip on reality."
Eiryn's pulse spiked painfully.
He hated that his mind instantly formed an image—Riven's wide eyes, filled with desperation and fear, calling for help that no one could understand.
Kael put a hand on Eiryn's shoulder. "I know you care about him."
Eiryn swallowed. "He's just a kid."
"And you're not?" Kael said softly. "You forget you're only eighteen."
"That's different."
Kael didn't argue. He rarely did.
They resumed walking until they reached the heart of the underpass, where the air felt heavy and almost liquid. A circle of scorched concrete marked the ground, blackened with deep cracks that seemed to pulse faintly.
Eiryn stepped closer.
The moment his foot touched the edge of the mark, the whispers inside him surged.
Not his own.
Not Helunsntion's.
Riven's.
It was faint, like a recording heard underwater—but unmistakably Riven.
"Eiryn…"
"Help…"
"It hurts…"
Eiryn's breath caught.
His entire body went cold.
Kael stiffened. "You heard it too?"
Eiryn didn't answer.
He crouched, touching the cracked ground with trembling fingers. The moment his skin met the surface, he felt an emotional imprint rush into him.
Fear.
Loneliness.
Desperation.
Guilt.
He gasped, pulling back.
Kael knelt beside him instantly. "Slow down. Breathe."
Eiryn wiped sweat off his forehead. He didn't even realize he'd started sweating.
"This isn't a normal manifestation," he whispered.
"It's an overlap."
Kael's eyes widened. "Are you sure?"
Eiryn nodded slowly.
"Riven's mind… it's leaking into reality."
"That hasn't happened since—"
"Since the first recorded Helunsntion collapse," Eiryn finished.
The silence that followed felt suffocating.
Kael stood up. "There's more. You need to see the symbol."
Eiryn straightened. "Symbol?"
Kael led him toward a wall where the concrete had peeled away in jagged strips. Carved into the stone—deep, uneven, almost clawed—was a sigil.
A circle
—broken at the top
—and a downward-pointing tear at the center.
Eiryn inhaled sharply.
"The… Cult of the Hidden Mind."
Kael nodded grimly.
The rare, almost mythical group that worshipped Helunsntion as a divine force instead of a disease. They believed that suppressed thoughts were the true reality, and the physical world was the illusion.
They were dangerous.
Fanatical.
Unpredictable.
And they wanted Riven.
Eiryn stepped closer, touching the rough edges of the sigil. A faint pulse ran through his fingers. Not physical—emotional. Like touching someone's heartbeat.
"They were here," Eiryn said quietly.
"I know," Kael replied.
"And they left a message."
Eiryn turned. "Where?"
Kael pointed.
On the far wall, written in dark, dripping strokes:
"THE BOY OF SILENT CHAOS SHALL OPEN THE VEIN BETWEEN MINDS."
A chill spread through Eiryn's spine.
Silent Chaos.
That was the name cults gave to Riven.
The boy whose suppressed emotions created silence so heavy it felt like drowning.
Kael watched Eiryn carefully. "We're running out of time."
Eiryn didn't speak.
He couldn't.
Because he could feel it.
He could feel Riven's pain leaking through the fabric of reality like cold water through cracks.
Kael stepped closer. "Eiryn… what are you thinking?"
Eiryn clenched his jaw.
"I'm thinking," he said quietly, "that they're not just taking him."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "Then what—"
"They're trying to awaken him fully."
Kael froze.
"That would kill him."
Eiryn nodded.
"Yes."
A new resolve settled over Eiryn like armor. The fear was still there, but it didn't control him. Not now. Not when Riven was alone and terrified.
Kael recognized that look.
He touched Eiryn's arm lightly.
"You're going after him no matter what, aren't you?"
Eiryn nodded once.
Kael sighed, a soft but heavy sound.
"Then I'm going with you."
Eiryn shook his head. "No."
"I'm not asking for permission."
"It's too dangerous."
"I know."
Kael's voice softened.
"That's why I'm not letting you go alone."
Eiryn opened his mouth to argue—then stopped.
Because Kael wasn't looking at him with stubbornness.
He was looking at him with fear.
Fear of losing him.
Fear of what would happen if Eiryn faced the cult while his Helunsntion was unstable.
Eiryn looked away. "…Fine."
Kael let out a breath.
"Thank you."
Eiryn took a step back from the sigil. "We need to find where they took him."
"I already have an idea," Kael said, reaching into his coat. He pulled out a folded map. "Look."
He opened it, pointing to a location on the outskirts.
An abandoned asylum.
Hollowgate Psychiatric Ward.
Eiryn felt his stomach drop.
"That place is—"
"Infamous," Kael finished.
"And perfect for a cult that wants to trigger a full Helunsntion awakening."
Eiryn clenched his fists.
"We move now."
Kael nodded, folding the map again. "Agreed."
As they walked out of the underpass, Eiryn paused, glancing back at the sigil one last time.
The shadows around the symbol shifted.
They moved.
Slowly.
Like breathing.
Eiryn's Mark pulsed painfully.
Kael didn't notice.
But Eiryn did.
Something was watching them.
Something connected to the cult.
Something that recognized Eiryn…
And recognized what was inside him.
He exhaled slowly and walked away.
The darkness behind him smiled.
Soft Pickup:
Eiryn and Kael moved toward the abandoned edges of Halcyon Ridge, where Hollowgate Asylum waited like an open wound in the city's memory.
And from here… the true descent began.
---
The road to Hollowgate felt longer than it should have been.
Every step they took felt like stepping deeper into a memory neither of them owned. The faint streetlights flickered overhead, but the darkness between them felt unnatural—almost alive, as if it were breathing with the rhythm of a sleeping beast.
"Don't let the silence get to you," Kael murmured as they walked.
Eiryn didn't reply.
Because it wasn't the silence that was getting to him.
It was the pressure sitting behind his eyes.
Like someone tapping the glass of a window from the inside of his skull.
Let us out, something whispered.
He clenched his jaw so hard his teeth hurt.
Kael glanced at him.
"You're shaking."
"I'm fine."
"That's the second time you've said that today," Kael muttered.
"And it's still true."
Kael didn't argue. They had walked together long enough for Kael to know when Eiryn wouldn't talk, and tonight, that silence was heavier than usual.
The city thinned out as they approached the outskirts.
Streetlights gave way to darkness.
Darkness gave way to fog.
And finally, the fog gave way to Hollowgate.
It rose from the earth like a decaying monument—tall iron gates rusted shut, stone walls cracked and peeling, vines creeping up broken windows like skeletal fingers.
A cold wind blew through the yard, carrying with it the faint sound of…
Kael froze.
"…Do you hear that?"
Eiryn inhaled slowly.
It wasn't a sound made in the physical world.
Not wind.
Not voices.
Not footsteps.
It was the soft, trembling hum of a child crying inside his own mind.
Riven.
The sound hit Eiryn's chest like a fist.
His lungs constricted.
A sharp pulse slammed through his Mark, spreading up his arm like lightning.
Kael grabbed his wrist. "Eiryn—hey, stay with me."
"I'm fine," Eiryn whispered through clenched teeth.
"No, you're not. Your veins are turning black."
Eiryn looked down.
Kael was right.
Shadowy veins were spreading from his Mark up toward his elbow.
Not normal manifestations.
Not normal strain.
This was resonance.
"Riven's emotions are colliding with mine," Eiryn said quietly.
Kael's face tightened.
"That's not just resonance. That's a tether."
Eiryn nodded.
"I know."
"And if you go any closer—"
"Yes," Eiryn whispered.
"It might break something inside me."
Kael exhaled shakily, then moved closer until his forehead touched Eiryn's.
"Then I'll break before you do."
Eiryn blinked.
For a moment, the pressure in his mind softened.
The whispers faded.
He could breathe again.
Kael pulled back.
"You ready?"
Eiryn nodded once.
"Yeah."
Kael pushed the iron gates.
They creaked open slowly—too slowly—and something warm slid down the metal like oil.
Blood.
Dried.
Old.
Rust-colored.
But unmistakable.
Kael clicked his tongue. "They really went all-in with the atmosphere, huh?"
"This isn't atmosphere," Eiryn whispered.
"This is a warning."
They stepped through the gates.
The moment their feet hit the overgrown path, the temperature dropped. Not gradually—immediately. Their breath turned visible. The fog thickened, wrapping around their ankles like chains.
And then Eiryn felt it.
A pull.
Not physical.
Mental.
Like a string tightening around his heart.
Riven was close.
Too close.
Kael noticed Eiryn's expression and tightened his grip on his jacket sleeve.
"Just say the word and we leave."
Eiryn shook his head.
"We're already too deep."
Hollowgate's large front door stood cracked open.
Soft light flickered inside.
Not firelight.
Not electricity.
Something else.
The cult was inside.
And Riven with them.
A wave of cold swept over them as they walked through the entrance. The air inside the asylum felt thick—wet—stagnant, as if no one had breathed here for decades.
The hallway was lined with old patient files nailed to the walls.
Names scratched out.
Faces blurred.
A lingering smell of damp paper and something coppery.
Eiryn caught a faint whisper.
Not English.
Not any human language.
Just emotion shaped like sound.
Kael's jaw tightened. "Someone's manifesting nearby."
"No," Eiryn corrected softly.
"That's not a person."
Kael froze.
"…Then what is it?"
Eiryn looked him in the eyes.
"A feeling."
The hallway bent unnaturally, like the building itself didn't want to follow the rules of physics anymore. Doors stretched into impossible shapes. Shadows moved against the direction of light.
Eiryn touched one of the walls.
It felt warm.
Warm like skin.
Kael swore under his breath. "This whole damn place is a manifestation."
"Riven's," Eiryn said softly.
"Or what the cult forced out of him."
They reached the end of the hallway where a single wooden door stood.
Carved on it…
The same sigil from the underpass.
Circle.
Broken top.
Downward tear.
Kael whispered, "They're definitely inside."
Eiryn opened the door.
And the moment he did—
The world fell away.
The hallway dissolved into blackness.
The floor crumbled beneath them.
The ceiling vanished.
Their bodies dropped into a void so quiet it felt like the world had stopped breathing.
Kael reached for Eiryn—
Eiryn grabbed his arm—
But gravity pulled with a violence that felt personal.
And then—
They landed.
Hard.
But not on a floor.
On a memory.
A room shifted into shape around them. Not real walls—just impressions of walls. Faded shapes, soft outlines, colors with no texture.
"Eiryn?" Kael whispered.
"What is this?"
Eiryn's eyes widened.
"This… is Riven's mind."
Kael looked around the unreal space, breath shaking.
"We're inside his Helunsntion."
Eiryn nodded slowly.
"Welcome to the Vein Between Minds."
A soft crying echoed from the distance.
High-pitched.
Pained.
Lonely.
Riven.
Eiryn began running toward the sound.
Kael followed without hesitation.
The world warped as they moved—walls stretching, floors bending, shadows flickering like dying candles. The air grew thick with emotion: fear, guilt, helplessness, and something deeper—
A child's memory of being abandoned.
Eiryn's chest tightened so hard he stumbled.
Kael caught him. "What's wrong?"
"This… memory… it's hitting me too hard."
"Why?"
"Because it's similar to mine."
Kael's expression softened instantly. He squeezed Eiryn's hand.
"You're not abandoned. Not anymore."
Eiryn swallowed hard and nodded.
Together, they moved deeper.
They reached a small door shaped like a child's bedroom—drawings on the walls, messy crayons, a stuffed animal missing an eye.
Eiryn pushed the door.
Inside, the room was dim, lit only by a small lamp.
And in the corner, curled up and shaking—
Riven.
His knees pulled to his chest.
Arms wrapped around himself.
Breathing fast, too fast.
Eyes blank and unfocused.
Eiryn's heart cracked.
"Riven…" he whispered.
Kael stayed behind, letting Eiryn step forward.
Eiryn knelt next to the boy.
"Hey," he said softly. "Look at me."
Riven didn't move.
Eiryn reached out slowly, touching Riven's shoulder.
The moment he did—
Riven's eyes snapped open.
Glowing.
Black and gold.
Filled with swirling fear.
And he screamed.
But the scream wasn't sound.
It was a blast of raw emotion that hit Eiryn like a truck, throwing him backward into the wall so hard he couldn't breathe.
Kael shouted, "EIRYN!"
Riven didn't recognize them.
His mind was stuck in a loop of fear.
A manifestation burst from him like dark liquid fire—tendrils of shadow twisting, gripping the room, tearing the memory apart.
Kael tried to reach Eiryn, but the tendrils slammed him into the opposite wall.
Eiryn struggled to breathe as the shadows crawled toward him like living nightmares.
Riven's voice broke through the chaos.
"I didn't want it…
I didn't want to hurt anyone…
I didn't want to be like this…"
Eiryn forced himself to crawl toward him.
He couldn't fight the shadows physically.
He couldn't overpower Riven's manifestation.
The only way to break through…
Was emotional contact.
He reached Riven and wrapped his arms around him tightly.
Kael gasped as the shadows froze.
Riven trembled violently.
"E-Eiryn…? I-I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"
"You don't have to apologize," Eiryn whispered.
"You're not alone. I'm here. We're here."
Riven's trembling slowly softened.
Kael stood shakily, watching the two with exhausted relief.
Riven's mindscape began to fade.
Light broke through the darkness.
The tendrils pulled back.
The room stabilized.
Riven leaned against Eiryn, breathing unevenly.
"Don't let them take me," he whispered.
Eiryn placed a hand on the back of his head.
"I won't."
But the moment he said that—
A cold, unfamiliar voice echoed through the collapsing mindscape.
"You already failed."
Kael and Eiryn both froze.
The shadows twisted into a figure.
Tall.
Thin.
Drenched in the cult's sigil.
And wearing a mask shaped like a broken circle.
Eiryn's eyes widened.
The cult leader.
The one pulling the strings.
And he wasn't outside.
He was inside Riven's mind…
Watching them.
The figure in the broken-circle mask stood perfectly still, as if the shadows themselves were holding him up. He had no weight, no breath, no presence in the physical sense. But in the mindscape, he was everywhere.
Kael instinctively stepped in front of Eiryn and Riven.
Eiryn slowly stood, keeping Riven behind him, his hand resting protectively on the boy's shoulder.
"What do you want?" Eiryn growled.
The masked figure tilted his head, listening to the echo of Eiryn's voice bouncing through the collapsing memory-space.
Then he spoke.
His voice was smooth.
Cold.
Detached.
But layered—like three voices speaking at once.
"We want what was promised."
Kael clenched his fists.
"And who promised you anything?"
The figure ignored him completely.
His attention was fixed on Eiryn.
"Your Helunsntion is awakening, Eiryn Vassir."
The name echoed unnaturally, each syllable stretching through the void.
Eiryn's heart pounded painfully.
The cult leader took a step forward.
The mindscape reacted instantly.
Walls rippled.
Shadows recoiled.
The memory door behind them dissolved into dust.
"You feel it, don't you?" the figure asked.
"The pressure… the hunger… the longing. Your hidden mind growing impatient."
Kael glared.
"Shut up."
The figure didn't even glance his way.
"Unstable, chaotic, unpredictable… yet powerful. Unique. Even among the gifted."
Kael whispered to Eiryn, "Don't listen to him."
But Eiryn wasn't listening.
Because his Mark began to burn—violently.
The black veins crawled up his arm faster now, reaching his shoulder. He could feel something behind his ribs pressing outward, pushing against the thin barrier he'd built over the years.
The cult leader extended a pale hand.
"You and the boy belong to the Hidden Mind."
Riven flinched behind Eiryn, clutching his clothes tightly.
"D-Don't let him take me…"
Eiryn tightened his grip on Riven's arm and stepped forward to shield him.
"They're not taking you," he murmured.
His voice was steady.
But something inside him… wasn't.
Kael sensed it instantly.
He moved closer, whispering urgently:
"Eiryn, don't engage. Your emotions are synced with Riven's. If you lose control—"
"I said I'm fine."
Kael flinched.
That tone wasn't Eiryn's.
The cult leader chuckled softly, the sound like glass cracking.
"So close to breaking," he whispered.
"Just like Riven."
Riven's breath hitched. "I-I didn't… I didn't mean to hurt anyone…"
Eiryn knelt, cupping Riven's face gently.
"You didn't hurt anyone, Riven. They did this to you."
Riven's lower lip trembled.
"But I couldn't stop it…"
Eiryn leaned his forehead against Riven's.
"Then I'll stop it for you."
The cult leader's aura sharpened instantly.
"So emotional," he said.
"So human. So fragile."
Eiryn stood slowly.
And the mindscape around them began to distort.
Shadows thickened.
The air warped.
Memory fragments cracked like glass.
Kael felt the shift immediately.
He grabbed Eiryn's arm.
"Hey. Hey! Stay with me."
Eiryn blinked, breathing unevenly.
But the shadows wrapped around his feet like smoke.
Kael's eyes widened in fear.
"Eiryn—your Helunsntion is reacting."
The cult leader spread his arms as if welcoming the inevitable.
"The Vein Between Minds is opening."
Riven started shaking again.
"No… no, please… don't let him… don't let him use me again…"
Eiryn's entire body went cold.
He stepped forward, standing between Riven and the cult leader.
"Touch him," Eiryn said quietly, "and I'll tear this entire mind apart."
The cult leader laughed.
"A threat? Or a promise?"
Eiryn didn't answer.
Because something snapped inside him.
A thin crack in his mental walls…
…and the whispers surged through.
Let us out.
Let me protect you.
Let me destroy him.
Let me save him.
Let me—
Eiryn clutched his head, teeth gritted so hard his jaw trembled.
Kael rushed to him.
"Eiryn! Look at me!"
Eiryn lifted his gaze.
His irises were flickering—black to gold to normal, then back again.
Kael's voice wavered.
"No. No, no, no—stay with me."
But the cult leader spoke again, voice soft and poisonous.
"Do you know why your Helunsntion is so volatile, Eiryn?
Because you suppressed more than fear.
More than anger.
More than grief."
Eiryn froze.
"You suppressed your truth."
Kael stepped forward threateningly.
"Don't you dare—"
"Your truth," the cult leader repeated, "is tied to the boy behind you."
Eiryn's breathing faltered.
Kael stiffened.
Riven clung tighter to Eiryn.
The cult leader's voice lowered:
"You don't want to save him because he's a victim."
Silence collapsed over the room.
"You want to save him… because he is you."
The mindscape trembled violently.
The floor cracked.
The walls bent.
The ceiling vanished.
Kael grabbed Eiryn's shoulders.
"Eiryn! Listen to me—this isn't real. He's manipulating your emotions."
But the cult leader kept talking—calm, steady, merciless.
"Your childhood. Your isolation. Your suppressed screams. Your fear of your own mind. The loneliness you buried for years."
Each word hit Eiryn like a punch to the chest.
"You see yourself in him," the figure whispered.
"And that is why the Vein Between Minds responds to you."
The entire memory-world shuddered, collapsing inward like a dying star.
Kael pulled Eiryn closer, touching his forehead to Eiryn's, forcing eye contact.
"Eiryn. Breathe. You are not him. You are not alone. I'm right here."
Eiryn's eyes flickered—black… gold…
Then normal.
He exhaled shakily.
The cult leader exhaled in disappointment.
"How unfortunate," he said.
"I was hoping your collapse would begin early."
Kael snarled. "Shut up."
Riven stepped out slightly from behind Eiryn, small fist clenched.
"…Why me?" he whispered.
The masked figure slowly looked at him.
"Because, child… you are the key.
The gateway.
The sacrifice."
Riven shook violently.
Eiryn stepped in front of him again.
But the cult leader raised one hand—
And the mindscape ripped open.
A vortex of shadows exploded behind him, dragging memory fragments into its whirlpool.
Old fears, old nightmares, old wounds—everything Riven ever suppressed—spun into the growing tear.
Kael cursed.
"That's a Mind Rift!"
Eiryn grabbed Riven, pulling him close.
"Kael—we need to close it!"
Kael nodded, hands shaking as he extended his Manifestation energy.
But the cult leader didn't give them the chance.
He snapped his fingers.
Reality within the mind twisted.
Suddenly—
Eiryn couldn't move.
Kael couldn't breathe.
Riven couldn't speak.
A suffocating gravity pressed down on them.
The cult leader stepped closer, mask glistening in the swirling darkness.
"You cannot protect him," he murmured.
"You cannot protect yourselves.
This mind… this boy… this fate… belongs to us."
Eiryn pushed against the force with everything he had—
—but the pressure crushed him harder.
Kael struggled too, gasping for air.
Riven's eyes filled with terror.
And then—
The cult leader raised his hand for the finishing blow—
But something else moved.
A spark.
A pulse.
A flare of light inside Eiryn's chest.
His Mark glowed bright gold—far brighter than ever before.
The cult leader froze.
Kael stopped breathing.
Riven stared in shock.
Because Eiryn wasn't suppressing his Helunsntion anymore.
It was activating.
The Mark cracked.
Energy spilled from it like molten light.
Shadows recoiled violently.
Eiryn lifted his head slowly.
His eyes—
—were no longer flickering.
They were glowing.
Bright.
Fierce.
Alive.
The cult leader whispered:
"…Impossible."
Eiryn's voice cut through the collapsing mindscape like a blade.
"You're not taking him."
The pressure shattered.
Kael collapsed, gasping.
Riven stumbled into Eiryn's arms.
The cult leader stepped back for the first time.
"What… are you?!"
Eiryn stepped forward, the air around him distorting.
"I'm the one thing you should've never woken up."
The mindscape cracked like glass.
Reality folded inward.
The Vein Between Minds pulsed—
And Eiryn lunged.
The city was quieter now, not because silence had finally settled, but because something deeper had replaced it—something that lived beneath silence, the kind of stillness that waits before a storm decides whether to destroy or spare. Eiryn felt it pressing against his ears, the heaviness of a world holding its breath. And as he walked beside Riven, he realized the weight wasn't from the world at all—it was coming from inside the boy.
Riven didn't speak. He barely blinked. His eyes were open, yet too focused on something Eiryn couldn't see. Not distant. Not empty. More like… tethered. As if something on the other side of reality had hooked into his thoughts and was quietly pulling him toward it.
They walked past the shattered streetlamp where the first mind-distortion had appeared. The air still felt bent there, like sound itself feared stepping too close. Eiryn remembered how the shadow-creature had emerged—a figure shaped like a thought that refused to stay inside a skull. It wasn't alive, but it wasn't dead either. It felt like a hallucination given bones.
Helunsntion.
He had read about symptoms. Heard warnings. Seen sketches, diagrams, theories.
But this was the first time he had ever watched someone fall into its depth.
Riven slowed, then stopped completely.
Eiryn paused beside him. "You alright?"
Riven didn't answer. The boy raised a trembling hand toward the empty intersection, his fingers curling as if gripping invisible wires.
Something flickered in the space ahead.
Not a creature. Not a shadow.
A memory.
Eiryn blinked. A small brown toy car, old and rusted on its edges, appeared on the road. It rolled slowly in a perfect circle, as if pushed by an invisible child. The imagery was faint at first—half real, half imagined—then sharpened until it looked solid, physical, present.
"Riven…" Eiryn whispered. "You're leaking."
Riven's voice came out distant, dreamlike. "I'm not doing this… It's coming on its own."
The toy car stopped rolling.
Then it turned its front wheels toward Riven, as if acknowledging him.
The air cracked.
The hallucination turned real.
The moment the toy snapped fully into reality, the road around it rippled like paper dipped in water. A second later, the asphalt tore open in a jagged line and something huge pulled itself upward from beneath the street—an enormous dark arm, disproportionate and stretched like melted shadow-clay.
Eiryn threw Riven behind him, summoning a burst of cold from the pit of his chest. His Manifestation surged, faint frost crawling across the ground. The shadow-arm lunged at them, fingers flexing like claws made from someone's nightmare.
Riven clutched his head. "It's not mine—this one isn't mine!"
Eiryn braced himself. "Then whose is it?"
The answer came before Riven could speak.
A voice echoed above them—not from the sky, not from the shadows, but from the gap between them. Like hearing a whisper emerge from a place no sound should exist.
"The Vein Between Minds… has opened."
Eiryn's blood froze.
"That voice…" he muttered. "Someone is pulling your leaks. Someone else is manifesting through you."
The shadow-arm slammed down again. Eiryn dodged, grabbing Riven and rolling through shattered gravel. The ground quaked beneath them as a second arm emerged, then a third. All of them clawed for Riven—not Eiryn, not the city—just Riven.
Eiryn steadied himself. "They're not after the world. They're after you."
Riven gritted his teeth, pupils shrinking. "Because they think I'm the 'Silence-Born.' The one from the prophecy…"
Eiryn stared. "Is the prophecy real?"
Riven didn't answer.
The third arm smashed down. Eiryn barely escaped its reach, frost exploding from his palms as he channeled everything he had. A freezing wave coated the ground in white glass, slowing the creature's movement. The arms cracked under the cold, fragments falling like shards of black obsidian.
For a moment, it worked.
But then—
The frost melted instantly.
As if the shadow refused to obey reality's rules.
Eiryn cursed under his breath. "Someone's overriding my Manifestation…"
Riven blinked slowly, eyes trembling. "The Cult… They're close."
Eiryn gripped his shoulder. "Look at me. Focus. Tell me how to stop the leak."
Riven hesitated, his breathing sharp and uneven. His hands trembled violently, veins glowing faint silver as if filled with liquid light.
"I can't close it alone," Riven said. "Not anymore. Every time I try to push a hallucination back, something—someone—pulls harder from the other side."
"And that someone," Eiryn said, "is using your thoughts to shape reality."
Riven nodded. "The more scared I get… the more they gain control."
Eiryn understood instantly.
Fear wasn't just emotional.
For Riven, fear was fuel.
And the cult knew it.
"Okay," Eiryn said softly. "Then don't be scared. Anchor to something real. Something you trust."
Riven looked up at him, fragile yet focused. "Like what?"
Eiryn didn't think—he just said it:
"Me."
The boy's irises flickered, silver light pulsing inside them.
And the creature froze.
Eiryn felt something shift—the distortion cleared for just one heartbeat, the hallucinations weakening as Riven anchored himself to his voice. Eiryn planted his feet, exhaling frost. "I've got you. Breathe. Stay with me."
Riven nodded once.
Then everything shattered at once.
A sharp sound tore the air—a bell ringing underwater, metallic and slow. The shadows around the creature bent inward, collapsing into a single point. And then—
A figure stepped out.
Tall. Hooded. Wearing the cult's symbol:
a circle with a vertical line carved through a hollow eye.
Eiryn felt pressure on his skull as if hands were squeezing his thoughts.
The hooded man spoke in a calm, almost gentle voice.
"You stabilize him well, Eiryn Vassir. Better than most. Perhaps that is why the Vein refuses to close in your presence."
Eiryn's fists clenched. "Who are you?"
The man tilted his head. "A caretaker of truth. A shepherd of minds. A believer in what must be born."
His gaze shifted to Riven.
"The Silence-Born must not be allowed to seal himself again."
Riven flinched. "Stop calling me that!"
The man didn't react to the tone—only smiled beneath the hood.
"You leak what others cannot imagine. You manifest what others cannot grasp. And soon, you will open the path completely."
Eiryn stepped in front of Riven. "Over my dead—"
The man didn't let him finish.
Reality bent.
Eiryn felt himself lifted and thrown back without the cultist touching him. His spine scraped against the pavement, and he gasped, breath knocked out.
Riven screamed, "Eiryn!"
The cultist paused, almost amused.
"Attachment… interesting. Attachment breeds stability. Stability breeds resistance." He crouched in front of Riven, voice soft. "But resistance only delays the inevitable."
Riven's nails dug into his palms as he whispered, "I won't be your weapon… I won't let you use me."
"You already are," the cultist said gently.
"We are simply helping you reach your true shape."
The ground trembled beneath Riven's feet. A surge of silver light erupted from his veins, spiraling upward like a reversed waterfall. The cultist raised a hand, guiding the energy outward, trying to drag something through the Vein—something massive, something that didn't belong in the world.
Eiryn staggered up, breathing hard. "Let him go!"
He slammed both palms onto the road. Frost roared outward in a blinding wave, cracking asphalt and forcing the cultist to jump back.
But the cultist didn't retreat far.
He simply smiled.
"You truly are a stabilizer," he said. "You anchor him more strongly than fear."
Eiryn glared. "Stay away from him."
The cultist's voice lowered.
"I cannot. He is the breach. You are the seal. And together, you will open everything."
Riven's voice shook. "No… I won't."
The cultist took one patient step forward.
"You already have."
Eiryn grabbed Riven's hand. "Don't listen. You're not what they want you to be."
The cultist's eyes glinted behind the hood.
"But he is."
The shadow-arms rose again—more violent, more shaped, more real. Manifestations fueled not by Riven's fear alone, but by the cultist's deliberate push.
Eiryn pulled Riven close.
"Hold on to me."
Riven squeezed his hand so hard it hurt.
The arms crashed down.
Eiryn unleashed everything he had.
Frost exploded in a massive shockwave—white fire ripping through the creature, freezing it mid-lunge. Ice spread across the intersection like a storm trapped in glass.
The cultist shielded himself, coat whipping violently in the cold wind.
For the first time, he looked displeased.
"You're strong," he admitted. "But not enough."
He stepped forward—
—and Riven finally snapped.
"I SAID—STAY AWAY!"
The world fractured.
The road split into a dozen pieces, floating upward like shattered glass caught in slow motion. Buildings twisted at impossible angles. Everything around them bent into a nightmare-shaped maze.
Eiryn's breath caught.
Riven had opened the Vein wider.
But not for the cultist.
For himself.
Eiryn whispered, "Riven… what did you just do?"
Riven stared at his glowing hands—
"Something I can't undo."
The world bent into a spiral of broken geometry. Fragments of buildings hovered mid-air like pieces of a shattered mirror suspended in time. Roads twisted into serpentine arcs, floating and curling like strips of cloth in water. The sky dimmed into a smeared canvas of grey and violet, a horizon stitched together with threads of pulsating silver.
Riven stood at the center of it all—small, shaking, terrified—but glowing with an intensity that made the distorted world orbit around him like a collapsing star.
Eiryn steadied himself against a chunk of floating asphalt. "Riven, look at me. You're losing control of the Vein!"
Riven clutched his head. "I—I didn't mean to open it this far!"
"You didn't," the cultist said calmly, stepping through the warped air as if the laws of physics bowed for him. "The Vein responds to belief. And you finally believe you're dangerous."
Riven's breath hitched.
"I'm not—"
"You are," the cultist said gently. "But that isn't a curse. It's the shape of what you must become."
Eiryn spat blood, eyes blazing. "You twisted his mind! You cornered him so he'd break!"
The cultist smiled like a teacher pleased with his student. "Break? No. He awakened."
He extended his hand toward Riven.
Silver lines—thin like veins—unfurled through the air between them. They pulsed with an unnatural rhythm, connecting reality and hallucination like threads pulled from a nightmare. The veins wrapped around Riven's arms, slipping under his skin, merging with the glow.
Riven screamed, falling to his knees.
Eiryn's chest erupted with frost. "GET AWAY FROM HIM!"
He charged, smashing his fist into the cultist's ribs. Ice exploded outward, freezing the man's cloak, cracking the symbol on his mask. The cultist slid back but didn't fall. Instead, he planted one foot and stood perfectly still, letting Eiryn's frost climb around him.
He exhaled once.
The frost melted instantly.
Eiryn staggered. "How—?"
"You stabilize others," the cultist said. "But you can't destabilize me. Our minds don't run on the same plane."
He flicked two fingers.
A shockwave of mental force blasted Eiryn off his feet, slamming him into a slab of broken concrete. Pain stabbed through his ribs. He tasted metal.
But he forced himself up.
Because Riven was screaming again.
The silver veins wrapped around Riven's shoulders, his throat, his temples—pulling him upright like a puppet. His body shook violently, limbs twitching in unnatural angles.
Riven gasped, struggling to speak: "E–Eiryn… help…"
Eiryn stumbled forward. "I'm here. I'm right here."
The cultist stepped between them.
"You, Eiryn Vassir, are the last thing holding him to this broken reality. You are the seal he clings to. That is why he must be separated from you."
Eiryn gritted his teeth. "Over my dead body."
"Exactly."
The cultist raised his hand. The silver veins tightened around Riven's body like crushing ropes. The boy choked, eyes wide with panic.
Eiryn didn't think. He attacked.
Frost exploded from his palms, not like the earlier bursts—this one was feral, primal, overflowing with the fear of losing Riven. Ice spiraled upward like a blizzard trapped in a tornado, slamming into the cultist and halting him for half a heartbeat.
Half a heartbeat—that was all Eiryn needed.
He lunged and grabbed Riven's wrist.
The instant their skin touched, the world changed again.
Silver veins wavered.
The distortion dimmed.
And Riven's eyes… focused.
"Eiryn…" he whispered, tears forming. "I'm trying… I can't hold it…"
"You don't need to," Eiryn said. "I'll hold it with you."
Something clicked.
Something deep.
Something ancient.
The silver veins binding Riven flickered and loosened, almost as if Eiryn's touch interfered with the cultist's control.
The cultist stared in quiet fascination.
"…Remarkable. You truly are his anchor. Without you, he would have fully crossed over by now."
Eiryn glared. "Good. Then I'm not going anywhere."
"That is where you are wrong."
The cultist snapped his fingers.
The floating debris around them twisted sharply and launched forward like bullets.
Eiryn shoved Riven down and rolled as sharp metal and concrete tore through the air, shredding everything around them. A chunk of rebar sliced Eiryn's forearm open—blood sprayed across the warped pavement.
Riven jolted.
"Eiryn, you're bleeding—!"
"I'm fine," Eiryn lied, clenching his teeth.
The cultist raised both hands.
Reality cracked open behind him like splitting glass.
A vast, jagged doorway formed—a rip into something dark, humming like a heartbeat underwater. From within, silhouettes shifted. Something enormous moved in the depths. Something with too many eyes.
Eiryn stared at the tear. "What is that…?"
The cultist spoke with reverence.
"The Mind Beyond Minds. The Place of Unformed Thought. The birthplace of Helunsntion."
Riven's breath stopped.
"…The origin of my disease."
"Not a disease," the cultist corrected. "A misalignment. A glimpse behind the curtain. Others lose themselves trying to see it. You were born seeing it."
Eiryn pulled Riven closer. "Don't listen. He wants to break your mind."
Riven's voice trembled. "I already feel broken…"
Eiryn turned him around, gripping his face firmly.
"Look at me. You're real. Remember that. Whatever is behind that tear is NOT you."
Riven's chest heaved. His aura rippled, flickering between light and distortion.
The cultist sighed.
"So stubborn. So beautifully flawed."
He spread his fingers.
The tear widened.
A monstrous hand—skeletal, shadow-thick, dripping with liquid thought—reached through the doorway. The creature attached to it was too large to fully emerge, but its presence alone warped the air.
Riven shook uncontrollably.
"They're calling me… They know my mind…"
"Don't answer," Eiryn whispered. "Stay here."
Riven looked at the tear again.
And the creature looked back—its many eyes focusing only on him.
The cultist extended a hand toward the boy.
"Riven, step forward. The Mind wants its child."
Eiryn moved instantly, placing himself between them. "Not happening."
The cultist tilted his head, patient. "He will come willingly. He always does."
Riven's whisper came out fragile.
"I don't want to go… I don't want to lose myself…"
"You won't," Eiryn said fiercely. "Not while I'm here."
The cultist's eyes narrowed.
"Then let us test your bond."
He thrust his hand forward.
The silver veins exploded outward, latching onto both Riven and Eiryn. Eiryn's body locked up, electricity surging through his nerves. His mind fogged with static. He tasted iron and ice.
Riven screamed—
"Eiryn!!"
The veins tried to rip them apart, physically and mentally, pulling Eiryn away from Riven's reach. Their hands slipped, fingertips barely touching.
Eiryn pushed every muscle he had.
"Hold—on—!"
Riven cried, reaching back.
"I can't—!"
"Yes, you can! I'm right here—"
Their fingertips brushed.
Just an inch apart.
Just enough.
Eiryn's frost and Riven's silver light collided between them.
A blinding shockwave erupted—white and silver merging in a violent burst. The cultist's grip shattered, the veins exploding like snapped cables. The tear behind him trembled, the monster hand recoiling.
The cultist staggered back, cloak ripping.
He stared at them with astonishment.
"…They synced. Impossible."
Eiryn coughed blood but stood tall, one arm wrapped protectively around Riven.
"We're not done."
Riven collapsed against him, panting. His glow dimmed, but his eyes were steady—focused—anchored.
The cultist whispered:
"The Vein Between Minds… favors you both."
His tone shifted.
Not calm.
Not confident.
Uneasy.
He stepped back into the shadows as the tear behind him began to close.
"This changes everything," he said softly. "The Silence-Born and the Stabilizer… united? Our prophecy must be rewritten."
He faded into the warping air, his cloak dissolving into ink-like wisps.
"But do not celebrate. Your bond is a delay, not salvation."
His voice echoed as the last fragment of him vanished.
"The Mind Beyond will return for its child."
Silence followed.
The distorted world around them slowly unwound—buildings descending back into place, debris falling gently like feathers. The sky restored its dull grey.
Riven collapsed.
Eiryn caught him.
The boy buried his face into Eiryn's shoulder, trembling.
"I… I almost went with them…"
"But you didn't," Eiryn said, wiping the blood off his lip. "Because you held onto me."
Riven clutched his shirt with shaking hands. "What if next time I can't…?"
Eiryn pressed a hand to the back of Riven's head, steady and warm.
"Then I'll hold tighter."
Riven inhaled shakily.
"…Promise?"
Eiryn nodded, without hesitation.
"I promise."
The boy's eyes softened, exhaustion pulling at him. He leaned against Eiryn's chest, breath slowing.
Far away, thunder rolled.
Something stirred in the fading sky.
Something watching.
Something waiting.
Eiryn looked up, jaw tightening.
The chapter ended not with peace…
…but with the knowledge that something far bigger had awakened.
And that Riven was no longer just a boy with a dangerous disease.
He was a key.
A key the world was not ready for.
And Eiryn…
was the only thing keeping that key from opening everything.