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Chapter 15 - Chapter 15: The Masked Moon

The sun had not yet risen.

Lumen stood at the edge of a rooftop balcony in Kireth Vale, watching fog crawl along the slanted stone streets. The scarecrow mask hung loosely in his hand, fingers brushing its edges. He thought of the old post back in Hollowrest, the red thread tied around it. Of the little girl who said he wasn't cursed. Of the way the old woman's hands trembled when she spoke of her husband.

And of the line etched into the stone by the ridge:

When you're strong enough, then we return.

Behind him, a familiar voice grunted.

"You're up early," Rin said, walking past with a bundle of folded cloth and her hair tied back in a braid. She'd been restocking supplies since dawn, sharpening her new blade, checking the tension on her leather armor straps. A fresh burnished plate covered her shoulder now, a gift from a blacksmith she'd nearly threatened into generosity. Or maybe that had been Gilger.

He smiled faintly. "Couldn't sleep."

"You never do."

"I try. The dreams don't listen."

"Then lie to them louder."

He didn't reply. But her presence, steady and unshaken, made the silence feel less sharp.

A door creaked.

Gilger stumbled out of the inn behind them, yawning and waving a piece of parchment in the air. He was already dressed in mismatched pieces of gear he'd bartered—or swindled—from a dozen shopkeepers. Somehow it made him look more dangerous and more ridiculous.

"Oi," he said, hopping over a broken step. "Good news. I cracked the riddle. Or at least the paper did. You wanna hear some poetic doom?"

Rin snorted. "Always."

He held up the letter they had found beneath the ruins. The ink had almost vanished in some spots, but Gilger's eyes sparkled with mischievous pride.

"Ready? Here goes."

Where the moon falls and the stone breathes,

The masked one kneels where no prayers reach.

Beneath the white cascade and broken tooth,

The blade that never sleeps still watches.

Seek not mercy, but memory.

He tucked the letter into his vest. "That place? I know it."

Rin blinked. "You do?"

"'Course I do. I'm Gilger. I know all the shady and poetic places. Northeast side of the valley, past the silver ridge, there's a waterfall the locals call Moon's Fang. Full of fog, almost invisible unless you're looking at the right time."

Lumen's eyes narrowed. "And tonight's a full moon."

Gilger grinned. "Exactly. So we go tonight. City's full of trouble anyway. This is better."

Rin folded her arms. "You're sure there's something behind it?"

"Only one way to find out."

The day passed in a blur of quiet readiness.

They resupplied, shared one last warm meal in the market square, and even watched Gilger try to propose to a merchant's daughter—again—and get turned down with a slap and a smile.

By sunset, they had left the walls of Kireth Vale behind.

The trail curved through a silver-drenched field. Mist curled around their boots. Insects hummed low, and somewhere in the distance, wild cats darted between brush. One paused—small and gray—just long enough to stare at Lumen. Then it vanished into the shadows.

They reached the waterfall just as the moon began to rise.

It poured in silence, white and endless, crashing into a deep pool veiled by hanging moss. Behind the roar of falling water, the stone glistened like glass.

"No door," Rin muttered.

"Look closer," Gilger said, tapping a carved groove just beneath the water's edge. "The wall breathes. See the vapor?"

Lumen stepped forward, threads tightening in his palm. Something behind the falls pulsed.

Then, by luck—or fate—a single stone beneath his boot shifted slightly.

A low hum vibrated through the earth.

The waterfall parted.

Only slightly. Enough for them to see the narrow cavern behind it. Just darkness and breathless cold.

No one spoke.

They stepped through.

The air was different inside. Heavy. Reverent.

The cavern widened slowly, lit only by moonlight filtering through cracks above. The sound of the falls became a distant echo. Then… silence.

And there he was.

An armored figure sat atop a smooth stone, unmoving.

He looked no older than mid-thirties, but there was no face. No voice. Just a helmet shaped like a featureless mask, and blackened armor that pulsed faintly with red embers. He didn't acknowledge them.

But the System did.

[System Alert: High-Level Entity Detected]

→ Name: Bram, The Forgotten Warrior

→ Sigil Class: Dark Emberbrand (Variant)

→ Status: Severed from System Access — Incomplete Profile

→ Threat Level: Too Dangerous to Assess !!!

Lumen's hands trembled.

Gilger stepped back, whispering with a dry laugh,

"This the warrior you told me about? Well... sure isn't the friendliest face in your scrapbook."

Rin narrowed her eyes, tension coiled in her stance.

"At least the puppet isn't here. That thing would've made you piss yourself."

The warrior didn't respond.

Then—

His head turned. Slowly. The full weight of that dark helm fixed on Lumen.

A voice, metallic and distant, echoed from within the armor:

"You came wearing the mask."

"You changed."

"But you are not ready."

The waterfall roared behind them.

And then—

the warrior stepped forward.

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