Lirien Thalor pulled out her curved sword, slicing the limb of the creature.
"Run!" she barked.
Ethan fled, picking up a blade, his legs feeling heavy by the robe he was wearing. His breath heightened, filled with fear, and sweat began dripping down his cheeks. None of this made any sense to him. Why was he running? What was going to happen to her? The chamber's debris smashed down, and his rune brightened as he sprinted through the glowing crystal corridor, avoiding each one of them one after the other.
As they staggered through the crumbling gate-chamber, the void-tremor intensified. He was followed by the girl he left behind, who ran through the collapsing gate chamber.
"You move slowly." Lirien said as she grabbed Ethan's hand and hurried ahead.
They were sped towards by the void-tremor. The curved sword swiftly regenerated after slashing off another limb of the creature. Ethan was so shocked by this scene that he nearly puked from the ichor splashing all over his face.
With Lirien at the forefront, the hallway led to a spacious hall with a starlit glass ceiling that was cracked but sturdy. While some runes on the floor flickered and dimmed, others glowed. A gate, massive and circular, loomed at the hall's center, its frame etched with constellations. It shimmered, rippling like a portal to nowhere.
A voidspawn lunged, mandibles snapping. Lirien's blade carved through it, ichor spraying, but another tackled her, pinning her. Ethan instinctively drew the sword he had brought into the room and cut the head of the void-spawn off.
Lirien clambered to her feet and gazed at Ethan, who was now Marcus and truly remarkable.
"You are absolutely incredible, as anticipated."
With crystal spires rising above, the sound of Ethan Cole's boots reverberated through the streets of the Aetherion. His boots reverberated through the crystalline streets of Aetherion. Like a diamond-carved dream, the city's spires rose above the cobblestones, their starlit facets creating prisms.
Still, there were more void-tremor aftershocks reverberating through the earth, and the air hummed with uneasiness. Lirien strode ahead, her silver cloak billowing, her rune-etched sword glinting at her hip. She glanced back, her green eyes searching his face.
It was an eternally dawn-drenched realm of floating crystal citadels. Aurora-shimmering skies and shifting gravity that let residents move between spires. Boots reverberated through the crystalline streets of Aetherion. The First Gate, a gigantic arch of translucent quartz with runes that glowed like captured stars, loomed above.
The streets were crowded with gatekeepers. People in star-woven tunics whispered to each other as they went by, their gazes flitting to the distant smoldering gate-chamber.
"Is it your first time seeing it?" Misreading his eyes, Lirien asked. "Even after years, the Crystal Spire takes my breath away."
"Not my first, you know that." Ethan said. "Or by chance you were testing me?"
Lirien placed her palm on her forehead and laughed.
"I believe you caught me then."
A flash of fractured memories surged before Ethan, a woman's voice warning of shadows standing before a gate. Ethan shook it off as Lirien continued to lead the way.
"Keep up, Marcus!" she uttered, her voice tight but softened by concern.
"Where are we going?"
"The Starlit Sanctum," Lirien said, pointing to a doomed structure of white stones, its roof studded with glowing orbs. "Sylra and Torren are waiting. They'll help you… adjust. The Council's already buzzing about the tremor. We need to report before Valthor starts asking questions."
"Valthor?" Seeking context, Ethan inquired. The image of Valthor Drayce, a council elder with a serpentine smile, flashed through Marcus's mind.
Lirien paused, gripping her blade with tighter fingers. An elder. He is not fond of surprises. Or gatekeepers who pose excessive inquiries. Her eyes flitted away once more, concealing something, but her tone was one of caution.
The realization that Lirien was holding back sparked Ethan's journalistic instincts. "Trust no elder" was a low, urgent memory that flashed before he could press. His fingers pricked him as the suddenness struck. The journal in his pocket, its scrawl unreadable in his confusion, felt as heavy as the words.
With their runes glimmering with Orwellian promise, Council posters lining the spires as they passed through the Starlit Sanctum read, "Unity Through Starlight."
With her cloak catching the starlight, Lirien accelerated her pace.
Her voice was solemn as she uttered, "The High Gods bless Aetherion's light." "They guide us against the void."
The Starlit Sanctum loomed, a cathedral of quartz and starlight, its pillars etched with runes that hummed like a pulsing heartbeat. Ethan's boots echoed on the alabaster floor. Lirien led him to the center, where a starlight orb floated, casting fractal light. The sanctum's beauty was mesmerizing, leaving Ethan in awe, but its vastness felt oppressive, a stage for the gatekeeper role he barely understood.
The leader, Lirien, came to a halt and squinted at Ethan. Marcus, you're quiet. It was strange to feel the void-tremor when you woke up. Are you alright?
His voice was steady as he said, "Just adjusting," his void-resistance reducing the pulse of the scar.
"To a gatekeeper, what is a tremor?"
Lirien's lips twitched, not quite a smile. "A warning." The Ninegates are stable, but the void stirs. Your role is to seal its breaches.
As Marcus died doing, Ethan thought, his Earth memory of the cult knife merging with Marcus's final stand.
A low rumble shook the ground, sending spider-webbing cracks across the sanctum, and quartz fell like snow. Screams erupted from outside as gatekeepers drew their blades, their runes flaring. The auroras above flickered, dimming as if choked by an unseen hand.
"Another tremor!" Lirien grabbed Ethan's arm, pulling him towards the Sanctum. "Move now!"
In a spire chamber, Ethan sat beneath a dim starlight orb, the journal fragments open. Lirien's final look was filled with uncertainty as she left him to "get ready" for the oath. The journal served as his anchor, but the tremor of the sanctum still echoed in his bones. Alongside its scribble, "The Council hides the truth," he remembers another warning: "Trust no elder."
As it considered the warning, the orb grew dimmer as the chamber shook once more. Despite his void-resistance, Ethan remained steady despite his instincts telling him that the gates were breaking. The First Gate's runes were visible through the quartz window, their light fading like a dying star. Aetherion's false beauty was exposed when its crystalline order broke down under chaos.
Ethan's eyes grew wide as he shut the journal. He had an ulterior motive now. He had to figure out why Marcus had died. "In other words, Marcus gave his life for the truth," he reflected, but at what price?