Beastbound: Reincarnated in the Abyss

The Veiled City did not offer roads to its heart. It offered mazes.

Every avenue they chose rearranged behind them. Balconies that had overlooked silent squares now opened into sunken courtyards filled with rotting banners. Archways collapsed and rebuilt themselves in other shapes, inscriptions scuttling over stone like insects trying to flee discovery.

Raen advanced all the same. Ember Vow walked at his side, hand lightly brushing the back of his, a tether neither seemed willing to acknowledge too openly. Hollowfang prowled ahead, shoulders low, ears flattened against a tension that had no scent. Despair Maw moved almost reluctantly, drifting over the ground in slow coils as if afraid to touch it.

They reached what passed for a grand boulevard — wider than any they'd seen, paved in pale plates of bone that flexed slightly underfoot. Great statues lined either side, each depicting robed figures whose faces were hidden behind broad masks carved with laughing mouths. Each mouth was split by thousands of tiny teeth.

As they passed, the masks turned.

Not all at once. Not with any sound. But Raen felt the shift of attention like pins pressing into his skin. The mouths widened, laughter silent but so intense it seemed to vibrate the air.

[Passive Domain Effect Intensified: Veiled Witnesses Accumulating]

[Warning: Prolonged Exposure Risks Induced Paranoia, Self-Doubt, Fragmented Memory]

Raen grunted, dismissing the notifications with a thought. The System couldn't protect him from this. It could only warn him, a bureaucrat of nightmare logic trying to tally up threats that had never been meant for numbers.

"You hear them, don't you?" Ember Vow's voice was soft. Her hand found his forearm, grounding him.

"They're not speaking. They're… remembering us." Raen's jaw tightened. "Cataloging everything we've been since stepping into this city."

"Or everything you've ever feared to become."

She wasn't wrong. Each statue's grin felt personal. Like it had plucked out a fragment of his guilt and wore it proudly.

They kept walking. No point in hesitation. If Kahless waited anywhere, it would be in the place most infested by these watchers.

Eventually, the boulevard spilled into a vast circle — a sort of plaza, though it was hard to name it that when its floor was an endless pit, layered with delicate bridges that spiraled downward in gentle curves. Each bridge was a ribbon of silvered glass, wide enough for only two to walk abreast. Far below, the void churned with slow, oily currents, swallowing all light.

And at the very center of this vast drop, suspended by impossibility alone, hovered a throne made entirely of masks. They were fused back to back, stacked atop one another, each grinning in a unique, grotesque way.

The throne faced no direction. It faced all directions at once.

Raen stood at the top of the spiral, looking down. A deep, unbidden tremor slid through his chest.

"This is it," Ember Vow whispered. "Where the city's memory coalesces. Its true heart."

He nodded once. Started down the nearest glass ramp. It flexed minutely under his boot, and ripples darted away from each step, carrying faint reflections of his face that quickly scattered into nonsense.

Hollowfang followed close, silent but rigid with unease. Despair Maw drifted behind, its shadow splayed in broken pieces across the bridges as if it couldn't decide how many bodies it needed.

Halfway down, Ember Vow's hand found his again. This time, neither pretended it was anything but what it was.

Raen squeezed her fingers lightly. "If Kahless stands anywhere, it's on that throne."

"Then we take it from him," she breathed. Her pupils were blown wide, black swallowing nearly all the color, her form shimmering faintly as if resisting the city's illusions through sheer stubborn will.

They descended in slow, echoing steps. Sometimes the bridges behind them vanished entirely, strands of glass evaporating into fine dust that drifted down to join the void below. Other paths flickered into place ahead, knitting together just in time for them to step forward.

As they neared the center, Raen's head began to pound. Not with physical pain — with memories. Images flashed too quickly to sort: his first kill under the war-banner, Hollowfang's pup eyes on the day it accepted his bond, Ember Vow collapsing after fighting off a swarm of lesser wraiths. Kahless's grin fractured among them, appearing where it didn't belong.

The closer they drew, the more the throne seemed to breathe. The masks flexed, cracking open wider, some yawning in soundless bellows, others biting down on nothing. A low susurration built in the air — whispers not of words, but of intent. Hunger. Delight. Threat.

At last they stepped onto the final length of bridge. It arced in a smooth half-circle that brought them directly before the throne. Up close, each mask was alive. Tiny eyes bulged from the gaps behind the teeth, blinking wetly. Thin, mucus-slick tongues darted out to taste the air.

Ember Vow's grip tightened painfully. "I hate this place."

"It hates itself," Raen murmured. "Look at them — all these faces trying to wear joy and only finding horror."

He took a slow breath. Memoryweaver stirred inside him, not waiting for his call. It seemed to lean eagerly toward the throne, testing the shape of all these half-truths.

Then the throne laughed.

Not a single voice. Not even a dozen. Hundreds of throats found a harmony so perfect it scraped against Raen's eardrums like knives against bone.

[System Notice: Unknown Authority Engaged]

[Conflict of Domains Detected: Raen vs. The Veiled Assembly]

Raen bared his teeth. "I won't kneel to echoes."

He raised his blade — and the masks surged outward, a tide of chittering mouths and darting eyes that snapped at the edge of his cloak. Ember Vow cried out, her free hand blazing with runes, slashing arcs of red-hot sigils through the press of living masks.

Hollowfang roared, claws striking down dozens of lesser faces that dissolved into ash with shrill hisses. Despair Maw lunged, biting through a cluster so large it imploded in a gush of greasy black ichor.

But more poured forth, too many to count. The throne seemed inexhaustible, each layer of masks splitting open to reveal even more beneath.

Raen's mind swam. Whispers coiled inside his skull, trying to fracture thought from thought. Who are you, really? Whose name do you wear now? Which betrayal was most delicious on your tongue?

He squeezed Ember Vow's hand until their knuckles ground together, and through that small pain, he found his anchor.

"No more stolen names," he growled. "No more empty claims. I am Raen. This is my path."

[Aspect Activation: Memoryweaver — Forced Integration]

Threads of light erupted from his chest, lashing outward. They pierced the mass of masks, flooding them with scenes not of triumph or horror — but of every quiet moment that had made him want to keep walking: Hollowfang's grateful purr when it first curled at his feet, Ember Vow laughing for no reason at all after a narrow escape, Despair Maw pressing close when nightmares left him shaking.

The throne shuddered. The laughter broke into mismatched shrieks. Masks blackened, cracking down the middle as if scorched by a truth too real for their brittle deceit.

Slowly, the tide receded. The throne collapsed inward, hundreds of masks melting together into a single, dark, featureless mass that thudded to the glass under Raen's feet.

Silence fell — not the watchful hush of earlier, but a silence that felt spent, purged of venom.

Raen staggered. Ember Vow caught him, her arms circling his shoulders. "You did it."

"For now." His voice was hoarse. "Kahless will feel this. He'll know the city's heart turned from him."

"Let him come," she whispered fiercely. "This time, he won't find you doubting your own face."

Raen managed a grim smile. Then he leaned in, forehead resting against hers. Around them, the Veiled City trembled — not in threat, but like a beast suddenly uncertain of its master.

And Raen, at last, felt certain enough to face whatever storm Kahless would bring.