"The Undervein eats the forgotten, and spits out monsters." —Kael, Orbbreaker
Elias moved through the Undervein's tunnels, the spiral fragment a burning coal in his pocket, its pulse a rhythm that drowned out Eryndor's distant sirens. The satchel of orbs—Lira's, Mara's, heavy with secrets—slung over his shoulder, their glow dim but restless, like eyes tracking his steps. The chamber was behind him, its shrine and Kael swallowed by the Shiver's collapse, but the Hollow's void-eyes lingered in his mind, reflecting Mara's burns, Lira's glow, a child's scream. You can't unwrite her. The words were a chain, linking him to the Spiral, to Lira's note, to a truth he didn't want but couldn't escape.
The tunnel narrowed, its walls veined with cracks that pulsed faintly, echoing the spiral fragment's light. Stolen orbs hung from wires, their flickering glow casting shadows that danced like the Hollow's claws. The air was thick, ozone and ash, laced with the Shiver's tremor—a constant now, no longer a wave but a heartbeat, as if Eryndor was waking, or dying. Elias's boots crunched on gravel, each step a defiance of the Orbbreakers' knives, the Hollow's weight, Mara's ghost. The spiral fragment led him deeper, its pulse a map to nowhere, but he followed, driven by Lira's paradox: Find me in the Spiral, or we all become Nobody.
The memory dive haunted him—Mara's apartment, her accusation, Lira's lab, the cult's chant. They weren't memories but wounds, bleeding into each other, blurring Mara and Lira into a single face, or no face at all. The child's scream, from the cavern vision, was new, a splinter in his mind. Had he seen her before, in the decade he'd lost? Had he carved her out, too? The spiral fragment flared, as if answering, and the tunnel's orbs flickered, their light bending into spirals that vanished when he blinked. A sound broke the hum—a scrape, not gravel but metal, from the tunnel ahead. Elias froze, hand on the satchel, the spiral fragment's pulse quickening. Kael's voice echoed in his mind: You're digging in the wrong grave. Was he back, or was this another ghost, another Hollow? The scrape came again, closer, and a shadow moved, not a claw but a figure, lean and scarred, blade glinting in the orbs' glow. Elias's heart pounded, but the spiral fragment burned, urging him forward, not away. "Kael," Elias called, voice rough, echoing in the tunnel's throat. "That you, or another of Lira's tricks?"
The figure stepped into the light, and it was Kael, but wrong. His coat was torn, his face bloodied, one eye swollen shut, the other glinting with something beyond fear—recognition, or madness. His blade trembled, not aimed at Elias but at the shadows, as if they were alive. "Vren," he rasped, voice cracked like the chamber's walls. "You didn't see it. You didn't see her."
"See who?" Elias stepped closer, the spiral fragment's pulse syncing with his own. "Lira? The Hollow?"
Kael laughed, a sound like breaking glass, and spat blood onto the gravel. "Not Lira. Not a Hollow. The child." His good eye flicked to the satchel, to Mara's orb, its glow seeping through the leather. "She was in the shrine, Vren. In the orbs. Screaming. You woke her, and now she's here."
Elias's skin prickled, the child's scream from the memory dive ringing in his skull. "You're not making sense," he said, but the spiral fragment flared, and the tunnel's orbs dimmed, as if listening. "The Shiver took you. How are you here?"
"The Shiver didn't take me," Kael said, his blade dropping, his voice low, hollow. "It showed me. The Spiral's not a place, Vren. It's her. The child. Lira. Mara. You." He staggered, clutching his head, and the tunnel shuddered, the Shiver's tremor spiking, gravel rising like ash, forming spirals in the air. He backed away, the satchel heavy, Mara's orb warm against his chest. Kael's words were madness, but they echoed the dive—Mara's accusation, Lira's chant, the child's face. You carved them out. He saw the lab again, not in memory but in the tunnel's shadows, its walls flickering into existence: orbs spinning, Lira at a console, a child strapped to a table, her scream splitting reality. Elias blinked, and the tunnel returned, but Kael was closer, his blade raised, his eye glowing like an orb.
"You opened the lock," Kael whispered, his voice not his own, layered with the child's, with Mara's, with the Hollow's. "You let her out."
The Shiver hit, a pulse that tore the tunnel apart. The walls bled light, folding into spirals that spun inward, endless, alive. The orbs exploded, their shards screaming, each a voice—Mara's, Lira's, the child's. Kael lunged, his blade slashing, but the air warped, bending his strike into nothing. Elias fell, the satchel spilling, its orbs rolling like eyes, their glow painting the tunnel in a kaleidoscope of pain.
He saw her—the child, standing in the spiral's heart, her body small but wrong, her eyes glowing like Lira's, her scream a Hollow's roar. "You promised to fix it," she said, her voice layered with fire, with static, with the cult's chant. The spiral tightened, its light searing Elias's skin, and he saw himself—not as he was, but as he'd been, in the lab, with Lira, with Mara, rewriting reality, carving them all into Nobody.
Elias clutched the satchel, its orbs rattling like teeth in the Undervein's trembling throat. The child's vision lingered—her glowing eyes, her scream a Hollow's roar, her words (You promised to fix it) twinning with Mara's, Lira's, his own. The tunnel's walls pulsed, veined with cracks that bled faint light, mirroring the spiral fragment's glow in his pocket. Kael's bloodied form was gone, his blade lost to the Shiver's wave, but his warning echoed: The Spiral's not a place. It's her. The child, Lira, Mara, Elias—all one, or none, or something worse, carved into the spiral's endless loop.
The Shiver's tremor grew, no longer a pulse but a growl, shaking gravel from the ceiling, snuffing the tunnel's stolen orbs one by one. Elias stumbled, Mara's orb warm against his chest, its light seeping through his coat, a beacon in the dark. The satchel's other orbs—Lira's, heavy with paradox—hummed, their glow flickering as if afraid. The air thickened, ozone and ash, laced with a new scent: blood, fresh and sharp, not Kael's but something closer, something alive.
He pressed forward, the spiral fragment's pulse guiding him through the tunnel's maze. The walls shifted, their cracks forming patterns—spirals, eyes, faces—then snapping back to rusted metal. The hum returned, dissonant, alive, rising from the Undervein's depths, syncing with the fragment's beat. Elias saw her again—the child, flickering at the tunnel's edge, her body small but wrong, her eyes glowing like Lira's, her hand pointing deeper. He blinked, and she was gone, but the fragment burned, its light carving a path through the shadows.
A scream tore through the tunnel—not the child's, not Mara's, but human, raw, cut short. Elias froze, the satchel heavy, the spiral fragment flaring. The scream came again, muffled, from a side passage, its walls lit by a single orb, its glow stuttering like a dying heart. The blood-scent sharpened, and footsteps—too many, too fast—echoed, not Kael's but a pack, their blades scraping metal, their voices low, hungry. Orbbreakers. They'd come for the orbs, for his debts, for Lira's curse.
Elias ducked into the passage, the spiral fragment's pulse urging him toward the scream's source. The tunnel narrowed, its walls slick with something wet—blood, or worse, glowing faintly like the child's eyes. The orb above flickered, casting shadows that moved wrong, stretching into claws, then snapping back. The scream died, replaced by a gurgle, and Elias rounded a bend, the satchel's orbs rattling, Mara's orb burning against his heart.
Three Orbbreakers stood in a chamber, their blades dripping, their coats patched with Undervein grit. A body lay at their feet—a Diver, his rig sparking, his eyes burned to ash, his chest carved open like a bad edit. The Orbbreakers turned, their faces scarred, their eyes glinting with orb-glow, and Elias recognized the leader: Vara, Kael's second, her blade longer than the rest, her grin a promise of pain.
"Vren," Vara said, her voice a hiss, her blade pointing at the satchel. "You're late on debts, and now you're carrying her poison." She stepped over the Diver's body, her boots leaving bloody prints. "Lira's orbs. Hand them over, or we carve you into Nobody."
Elias's hand tightened on the satchel, the spiral fragment scorching his pocket. "Lira's gone," he said, voice steady despite the fear clawing his gut. "And Kael's dust. You want these orbs, you'll have to take them."
Vara laughed, her blade twitching, and the other Orbbreakers closed in, their shadows merging with the tunnel's cracks. "Kael's not dust," she said, her grin widening. "He's deeper, chasing her. The child. You saw her, didn't you?" Her eyes flicked to Mara's orb, its glow seeping through Elias's coat. "She's in there, Vren. Screaming. Let us fix it."
The Shiver surged, a wave that cracked the chamber's walls, light bleeding from the fissures, forming spirals that spun inward, alive. The Orbbreakers staggered, Vara's blade slashing air, and the Diver's body twitched, its burned eyes glowing, its mouth moving, speaking in the child's voice: "You promised to fix it." The orbs in the satchel flared, their light searing, and Mara's orb burned, its pulse syncing with the Shiver's growl.
Elias ran, the spiral fragment guiding him, the chamber collapsing behind him. The Orbbreakers' screams followed, not human but Hollow, their blades clattering, their bodies folding into the spiral's light. He saw her—the child, standing in the tunnel ahead, her eyes glowing, her scream a chant that shook the Undervein. The spiral fragment flared, its light cutting through her, and she dissolved, but her voice lingered, layered with Mara's, with Lira's: You're already inside.
The tunnel opened into a wider passage, its walls scarred with graffiti: The Spiral Sees. Nobody Falls. Elias's chest heaved, the satchel heavy, Mara's orb a fire against his heart. The Shiver's tremor faded, but the hum returned, low and steady, calling him deeper. Vara's words gnawed at him: Kael's chasing her. The child. Was Kael alive, or another paradox, like Lira? Was the child the Spiral's heart, or its trap? The fragment knew, its pulse a map to the truth, and Elias followed, the Undervein's teeth closing around him.
——Elias ran through the Undervein's widening passage, the spiral fragment a searing pulse in his pocket, its light cutting through the shadows like a scream. The satchel of orbs bounced against his hip, Mara's orb burning against his chest, its glow a heartbeat twinned with the Shiver's growl. The Orbbreakers' screams—Vara's, her pack's—faded behind him, swallowed by the spiral's light, their bodies folded into Nothing. The child's vision lingered, her glowing eyes and Hollow-roar (You promised to fix it) merging with Mara's accusation, Lira's paradox, Kael's madness. The tunnel's graffiti glared: The Spiral Sees. Nobody Falls. But Elias was falling, deeper into Eryndor's teeth, and the Spiral was chewing.
The passage opened into a cavernous chamber, its ceiling lost in darkness, its floor littered with orb-shards that crunched underfoot, each fragment whispering—voices, memories, lives erased. Stolen orbs hung from rusted chains, their glow dim, flickering like candles in a storm. The walls were alive, veined with cracks that pulsed with the spiral fragment's light, forming patterns—spirals, faces, hands—then dissolving into scars. The hum was here, not a sound but a pressure, crushing Elias's skull, syncing with the fragment's beat, with Mara's orb, with the Shiver's endless tremor.
He stopped, chest heaving, the satchel heavy, the air thick with blood and static. The child's scream echoed in his mind, not a memory but a presence, as if she stood behind him, her glowing eyes boring into his spine. He turned, expecting her, expecting Lira, expecting Mara, but the chamber was empty, its shadows still, too still. The spiral fragment flared, its pulse frantic, and the orbs above flickered, their light bending into a single spiral that spun above the chamber's center, alive, watching.
A voice broke the hum—not Kael's, not Vara's, but soft, familiar, wrong. "Elias," it said, from the spiral's heart, layered with Mara's warmth, Lira's edge, the child's pain. "You're so close."
He staggered back, the satchel slipping, Mara's orb glowing through his coat. The voice wasn't in the air but in his head, in the fragment, in the orbs. "Who's there?" he rasped, his voice swallowed by the chamber's weight. The spiral above tightened, its light searing, and a figure emerged—not the child, not Lira, but Mara, whole, unburned, her hair catching the orbs' glow, her smile a knife.
"You promised to fix it," Mara said, her eyes glowing, not human but orb-like, pulsing with the spiral's rhythm. She stepped closer, her body glitching, flickering between Mara's form, Lira's, the child's, then something else—a shadow, a Hollow, a void. "You carved us out, Elias. But you didn't finish."
Elias's knees buckled, the spiral fragment scorching his hand, its light merging with the spiral above. "You're not her," he whispered, but his heart screamed otherwise—Mara's laugh, her touch, her fire, all alive in this thing. The memory dive flooded back: the lab, the probe, the child's scream, his hands rewriting reality. You carved them out. He saw it now, not a memory but a truth: he'd edited Mara, Lira, the child, himself, into this spiral, this lie.
The figure shifted, now Lira, her coat patched, her eyes accusing. "You're already inside," she said, her voice the child's, the Hollow's, his own. The chamber warped, its walls folding into the spiral's light, the orb-shards rising, forming words: The Spiral Sees. Elias screamed, clutching Mara's orb, its glow burning his skin, and the figure lunged, not human but claws, eyes, a mirror reflecting his face—scarred, hollowed, Nobody.
The Shiver roared, a wave that shattered the chamber, the spiral above exploding into light that blinded, burned, rewrote. Elias fell, the satchel spilling, its orbs rolling, their glow snuffed. Mara's orb flared, its light a shield, and the figure recoiled, its form fracturing, dissolving into static. The chamber snapped back, but not whole—walls cracked, orbs dark, the hum silent. Elias lay gasping, Mara's orb clutched to his chest, the spiral fragment cool now, its pulse faint, as if spent.
Then he saw it, carved into the chamber's floor, hidden by orb-shards until now: a door, its surface etched with a spiral, identical to the fragment's, its lines glowing faintly, alive. The satchel's orbs were dead, their light gone, but Mara's orb pulsed, its glow syncing with the door's spiral, as if it were the key. Elias staggered to his feet, the child's scream, Mara's promise, Lira's paradox all converging here, in this moment, in this trap.
He knelt, pressing Mara's orb to the door's spiral, and the chamber shuddered, the hum returning, louder, a chant that shook his bones. The door clicked, sliding open, revealing a tunnel—not rusted, not Undervein, but organic, its walls veined with light, pulsing like flesh. The spiral fragment flared, its pulse a command, and Elias saw her—Mara, Lira, the child—standing at the tunnel's end, her face flickering, her hand beckoning. "You're so close," she said, and the tunnel's walls whispered, not words but truths, paradoxes, lies.
Elias stepped forward, then stopped, the spiral fragment cooling, Mara's orb dimming. The figure wasn't Mara, wasn't Lira, wasn't the child—it was him, or what he'd been, before the fire, before the edits, before the Spiral. The tunnel's light shifted, revealing not a path but a memory: Elias, in the lab, his hands on the probe, Mara screaming, Lira chanting, the child's eyes glowing, all of them carved into Nothing. The twist hit like a blade: he hadn't just edited their memories—he'd edited himself, rewritten his own existence, made himself the Spiral's key.
The chamber trembled, the door's spiral flaring, and Elias clutched Mara's orb, its glow a question, not an answer. The tunnel waited, its walls alive, its end a lie he'd written. He didn't step forward, not yet—the Spiral was close, but so was the truth, and he wasn't ready to face himself.