POV: Reader
Location: Inner Sanctum – Citadel of Ash
---
> Midnight.
The Citadel of Ash didn't sleep.
It brooded.
Every stone in its walls whispered warnings.
Every flame bent away from us — like even fire wanted nothing to do with our presence.
The halls didn't echo.
They absorbed sound.
Like they were used to silence — or used to screams.
Jiwoon counted his steps as he paced.
Ereze sat by the archway, sharpening her blade, each stroke a metronome of tension.
Vana stood by the soulfire brazier, eyes distant, lips moving in silent prayer.
And I...
I scrolled through the [Trial Logs], decoding fragmentary records left behind by prior contenders.
> "The Citadel was once a mercy tower," I muttered.
"A sanctuary for thronewalkers who failed their seats. A hospice for broken bodies."
Vana didn't turn to face me.
> "Not mercy," she corrected softly.
"Redemption. It was where broken narratives came to mend. Where stories too damaged for the mainframe were patched with soulfire and time."
She paused, then turned.
> "But that was before someone poisoned the roots."
---
We descended.
Down into the underbelly of the tower, past forgotten sigil-markers and melted icons.
The further down we went, the thicker the ash became — turning from a dusting to fog.
At last, we arrived.
> A ruined chapel.
The stone was warped.
Every wall was wrapped in bone-chains and layers of paper talismans, some weeping ink like blood.
The moment we stepped in—
> The entrance slammed shut.
Chains clinked. The air went dry.
Then:
> "One of you doesn't belong."
A voice. Male? Female? Neither?
It sounded like words spoken by the tower itself.
---
> [TRIAL INITIATED: The Shadow In Your Party]
Objective: Unmask the infiltrator before dawn.
Penalty for failure: Memory collapse. Total group deletion.
---
"Trap," Ereze snapped, reaching for her sword.
"More than that," I replied. "It's a narrative snare. A story-layer test. They want to see if we fracture."
Jiwoon looked between us, tension rising.
> "Then what? One of us really is... fake?"
> "Or," I muttered, "they want us to think so."
> "Divide. Distrust. Break the bond," Ereze growled. "Classic infiltration tactics."
> "No," I said slowly. "It's more subtle. They're targeting our memory states... fragmenting perception."
The lights pulsed once.
And the world fractured.
---
Ereze's Trial
She stood in a burning field.
Bodies all around. Not enemies.
Villagers.
A younger version of me lay at her feet — blood pouring from a wound across my ribs.
> "You said you'd protect us," my illusion gasped.
> "I was called to war," Ereze snapped. "I couldn't—"
> "You left us to die."
The illusion coughed.
Black smoke spilled from his mouth.
> "Chosen? Chosen for what? Abandonment?"
Ereze roared, raising her sword — only for it to vanish from her hands.
> "You can't fight memory," the illusion whispered.
"Only bury it."
---
Jiwoon's Trial
Chains.
So many chains.
They looped endlessly, tightening each time he spoke.
At the center of the chamber, Vana — slumped over, her skin pale, lips trembling.
> "Why didn't you save me?"
> "You're not real," Jiwoon whispered.
> "But the guilt is."
The realness of it crushed him.
He remembered that moment — from a different war.
He had left someone behind.
Not Vana. But someone close enough.
> "You remember her name," the illusion said.
Jiwoon dropped to his knees.
> "Say it."
He did.
And the chains melted away.
---
My Trial
A throne.
But not a real one.
It was made from broken swords, bent relics, shattered sigils — stitched together like a lie.
Sitting atop it: Kairoz.
He looked... casual. Smirking. Eyes unreadable.
> "You again," he said. "Still pretending to matter."
> "What is this?"
> "A mirror," he said, tossing something at me.
A mask.
> My face.
But cracked. Fragmented. Eyes hollow.
> "You think you're consistent. But you're not."
> "I've passed fidelity. I've stabilized."
He laughed.
> "You think that makes you immune? Reader, you're diverging so hard, even the tower's watching. You're rewriting things you don't even realize."
He leaned forward.
> "You're not the anomaly because you're strong. You're the anomaly because you're off-script."
> "Then write a better one," I said.
He grinned.
> "I won't have to. The Nameless Blade is coming."
---
We snapped back.
The chapel. The altar.
The talismans now burning at the edges.
A distant bell tolling.
And—
> Vana was gone.
No, not gone. Collapsed.
Her body lay on the central chain altar, hands folded. Not dead — breathing — but locked in a deep memory-seal.
Over her: words made of fire.
> "One of you was meant to fail."
---
Ereze's hand went to her sword.
Jiwoon took a step back.
> "You think I did this?" he asked, voice tight.
> "I don't think," Ereze said. "I judge."
I raised both hands.
> "This wasn't a test of betrayal. It was a test of cohesion. They wanted to see how we react to loss."
> "Then why Vana?" Ereze hissed. "Why not one of us?"
> "Because she's the tether," I said. "She's our memory-anchor. The healer. The rewind."
> "And removing her breaks us," Jiwoon whispered.
---
Then it happened.
A loud crack from outside.
Something struck the wall — hard.
The ash barrier tore in half.
And through the breach stepped him.
---
The Nameless Blade.
He didn't walk.
He flowed — like shadow and purpose made flesh.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Masked.
A greatsword dragged behind him, its edge glowing faintly with static rot.
His chest bore an ancient throne sigil — crossed out with searing crimson.
> A thronewalker who refused his seat.
Or one who failed and didn't die.
Ereze rose.
> "Finally."
> "No," I said. "This isn't combat. Not yet."
The Blade paused.
Raised one hand.
And pointed—
> Directly at me.
---
> [Trial Update:]
Target Acquired – Reader.
Reason: Narrative Divergence Detected.
Status: Anomaly.
Protocol: Eliminate before fracture infects zone architecture.
---
Jiwoon whispered, "He's after you. Specifically."
Ereze tightened her grip.
> "He won't reach you."
But I stepped forward.
Unsheathed my blade.
Let the [Scriptburn] shimmer across my hands.
Sacrificed a peaceful memory — laughter under sunlight, long forgotten.
It burned away. And with it, hesitation.
> "Fine."
> "Let's see if forgotten stories can still bleed."
---