The Return Undeserved

They camped that night on the lip of an ancient obsidian lake, its surface black as ink and eerily still. No breeze dared to stir ripples across it. Despite the chill air, none of them built a fire. Their breaths clouded in the lamplight, and that was enough.

Jin Mu sat on a flat slab of stone, two sigils glowing faintly on his forearms, embedded crystals still pulsing from the second shard. He watched the darkness and felt it watching back—like he had made an unspoken covenant with every piece of that Broken God's tomb.

Camellya paced by the shore, her blade unsheathed and held in a loose grip. She was scanning the treeline. "We should move before first light," she said. "The third shard lies at the heart of that forest, in the Temple of Echoes. It's said the place amplifies Pathway power—sometimes to madness."

Shen Yan sat nearby, sharpening his remaining dagger with clinical focus. His stump wrapped arm was a constant reminder of how high the stakes had become. "Madness is a small price if it keeps us alive," he said without looking up.

Su knelt beside Jin, handing him a flask of warm tea. "You need this," she said softly. He took it, fingers brushing hers, and she gave him a steady smile. Despite everything, her eyes held hope.

Xue Yiran lounged against a crumbling column, her cloak wrapped tight. She watched Camellya. "What makes you think we can trust this echo temple? We've broken half the seals already—maybe the Concord's waiting for us deeper in."

Camellya sheathed her blade and faced Xue. "The Concord can't reach here—not without following us and facing the vault's wards. But the temple itself… it lies on an old ley line. One the Black Emperors once used to amplify their distortions. We'll be stronger there… or die trying."

Jin Mu closed his eyes. He could feel the power in him shift—balancing the Emperor's edicts and the Seed's need for choice. It felt like walking a knife's edge. "Then we go," he said quietly, "and claim the shard before it claims us."

Before dawn, they struck out toward the forest's edge. The path was overgrown, trees arching overhead in a cathedral of twisted branches. At every step, the underbrush seemed to part with groaning reluctance. Jin felt the ambient magic thickening—like footsteps on skin, each leaf bristling with unseen power.

After an hour's trek, they reached the Temple of Echoes: a half buried amphitheater ringed by statues so worn they might once have been gods. Fallen pillars lay scattered like broken bones. But at its center stood a dais of black marble, carved with runes that pulsed in time with Jin's heartbeat.

Xue knelt to inspect the runes. "This is a resonance seal," she murmured. "It echoes whatever you pour into it back at you tenfold."

Shen frowned. "That sounds like a deathtrap."

Camellya moved to the dais and traced one rune with her fingertip. It flared. A low hum reverberated across the clearing.

Jin stepped forward, raising his arms. "I'll anchor it." He cleared his throat and spoke firmly: "By the Black Emperor's Edict, and by the Bifurcated Seed's Choice, I lay claim to this power."

The runes burned bright. He felt the temple's magic surge through him—warm. intoxicating. His vision momentarily blurred with visions of power beyond reckoning. Voices whispered in his mind—the cold voice of his old self urging domination, the Seed's other self whispering doubts.

He clenched his teeth, reached inward, and willed the voices both to obey his will.

A shockwave rippled out. Trees bowed. Statues cracked.

When the tremor passed, the runes were silent. The ground at his feet split open, revealing a locked chest carved from the same obsidian marble.

Camellya drew her blade and struck the lid. It splintered away with a dull crack.

Inside lay the third shard: a ring of molten glass woven with silver threads, hovering above a carved pedestal. It shivered like a heartbeat.

Before they could claim it, a chorus of voices erupted from the trees. Figures in tattered Concord uniforms emerged—guards led by a battered officer whose eyes widened at the sight of Jin Mu's dual sigils.

"Regressor!" the officer snarled. "You can't hide in this forsaken place!"

Camellya sprang forward, blade flashing. Xue drew her sword. Su and Shen leapt into action. The ambush had come at the worst possible moment—but that was as it should be.

The clearing became chaos. Blades and bolts of light crisscrossed. Guards fell as Camellya's entropy fists battered them. Xue's frosted edge skewered ranks. Shen pivoted, sending two attackers sprawling with a single swing. Su weaved behind a pillar, her knife a blur.

Jin Mu stood his ground, palm extended toward the center shard. He did not fight: instead, he spoke softly, reciting both his Paths.

"Distortion—Wreath of Reversal."

Time itself buckled. Guards' movements slowed, then reversed, stumbling back into one another.

"Choice—Crown of Reflection."

Their weapons froze in mid air—then dropped like stones.

In the stunned hush, Jin bent and lifted the glass ring. It dissolved into his arm's second brand, fusing with the root and flame, the two Sigils now complete.

He straightened, chest heaving. The temple's echo chorus of power surged one last time, then faded to silence.

When the light dimmed, the clearing was still. The Concord ambush had fled—no match for the temple's echo.

Camellya wiped her blade. "They'll regroup."

Shen sheathed his dagger. "So will we."

Xue picked up a fallen bolt and examined its sigil. "This was third tier magic. Someone high up sent them."

Su knelt by Jin, gently touching his arm. "You okay?"

He flexed both arms, felt the new brand settle. "More than okay."

Camellya gathered them. "We have three shards now. Four to go. Next is the City of Twin Depths—where water runs both ways and the sky hangs below the earth. It's a long march."

Jin nodded. In his chest, power thrummed steady, not chaotic. The forced breakthrough had fused his Paths well. He could sense both voices in harmony now—one guiding, one questioning, working together.

He looked to each of his friends. "We keep moving. Together."

They left the temple at last, footsteps echoing hollow in the amphitheater of broken idols. Above them, the sun finally broke through ash clouds and warmed their faces.

For a moment, none of them spoke. They shared a silent promise: whatever storms lay ahead, they would face them as one.

And somewhere, deep in the earth, a hidden power trembled—its fragments uprooted, its destiny forever entwined with the regressor who refused to die.

They left the Temple of Echoes behind, the air growing thinner and colder as they climbed out of the basin. The canyon narrowed, walls closing in until the sky was nothing more than a sliver of gray overhead. Their boots crunched over frost gnarled stones, each step forcing them deeper into the wild country north of Velthram.

Jin Mu led the way in silence, the third shard's brand warm at his wrist. The dual sigils pulsed in gentle counterpoint—Black Emperor and Bifurcated Seed—reminding him with every heartbeat of the paths he now walked. Behind him, Camellya fell into step, eyes forward, ever watchful.

Su and Xue marched side by side. Su hummed a quiet melody—something soft and familiar, a lullaby for lost children. Xue glanced at her. "That song again?"

Su nodded. "My brother used to sing it under the pines." Her voice cracked but she kept going. "Keeps me… grounded."

Xue offered a rare, small smile. "Grounded is good."

Shen Yan brought up the rear, his one arm looped through a strap to steady his balance. He slowed when the path sloped steeply upward, pausing to pull out a narrow flask and offer it to Jin.

"Here," he said. "For the climb."

Jin accepted it with a nod. "Thanks." He took a sip of bitter tea. Strength bloomed in his chest like coiled steel.

They reached a ridge as the sky broke into pink and gold. Below them lay a vast valley, half drowned in mist. The City of Twin Depths—long rumored—sat at its center, two spires mirrored across an inland lake. One tower was carved of dark stone; the other of pale marble. Between them, the water gleamed silver, reflecting both.

Camellya joined them at the crest. "The towers channel the ley flow. Expect heavy wards and water borne Sentinels."

Xue drew her sword. "Good. I like a challenge."

Su stared at the vista. "It's beautiful."

Shen grunted. "We'll have time for sightseeing later."

Jin Mu's gaze lingered on the marble spire. He could feel the shards resonate faintly—calling to him. "Then we move at dawn."

They made camp on a rocky outcrop overlooking the lake. There was no fire—Camellya set a ward that created warmth but no smoke. They ate cold rations and spoke in low voices.

Shen studied the far tower through a spyglass. "I see statues at every balcony. They're… staring at us."

Su shivered. "Watching."

Camellya traced a sigil on her arm. "Those are the Sentinels of the Depths. They animate if you step too close to the water outside the channel."

Xue crouched by the water's edge, splashing a hand in. "Is it true they can pull someone under, then fold them into the lake?"

Jin Mu knelt beside her, dropping a pebbled ripple. The water stood still as glass. "If I recall, they're powered by fear more than hunger."

Xue raised an eyebrow. "Lovely."

That night, Jos walked patrol. He didn't mind—there was something soothing about the hush of wind across the stones. He came to where Jin Mu sat alone, staring at the towers' reflection.

"Difficult to sleep?" he asked.

Jin muttered, "The shards… they whisper."

Jos nodded. "They do." He gestured to the second shard, faintly glowing at Jin's wrist. "The Seed's echo never truly sleeps. It tests you whenever you're alone."

Jin looked at him. "And the Emperor's spiral?"

Jos smiled sadly. "It hums in tune. A constant drumbeat—reminding you of orders to uphold."

They sat in silence. Then Jos stood. "Rest, Jin Mu. Tomorrow we fight gods—let the night be yours."

Jin nodded gratefully.

Dawn came with a gray hush. They climbed down the ridge, following a narrow ledge carved into the stone face. The lake's surface was smooth as metal. At the waterline, a black archway led into darkness—the temple's outer gate.

Camellya stepped forward. She pressed her palm to an obsidian seal. It flared, then disappeared. They passed through.

Inside, the tunnel curved downward, walls slick with moisture. Water dripped from the ceiling in glowing droplets. Each step echoed.

Su shivered. "It's like walking inside the lake."

Jin focused on his breathing, drawing on the Seed's clarity. He felt a presence in the water—eyes beneath the surface, hundreds of them.

Camellya led at the front, blade lit with entropic flame. Xue followed, sword at the ready. Shen and Su brought up the rear.

After a dozen paces, the tunnel opened onto a vast cavern. Pillars of marble and dark stone rose from the lake's floor like cathedral columns. Between them, a raised walkway of broad slabs led to the towers.

"Stay on the path," Camellya warned. "The water beyond is alive."

Jin nodded. He could feel the shards resonate more strongly here. The hollow silence buzzed with power—both seductive and dangerous.

Halfway along the walkway, the water rippled. A dozen pale figures rose—Sentinels carved of water and memory. Their faces were those of people Jin had known: allies lost, enemies slain. They reached toward him with hollow eyes.

Xue roared and charged. Camellya and Shen followed. Su darted behind. They fought with steel and runes—slashes that turned water to steam, blows that shattered living liquid.

Jin Mu stood his ground. He felt a tug at his mind—images of his old self, cold and triumphant, urging him to punish. And another, soft voice urging compassion.

He clenched his fists. Summoned both Paths.

"Distortion—Flow Reversal!" he shouted. The water around the Sentinels froze, then cracked.

"Choice—Mercy of Reflection!" he added. The broken fragments of water coalesced, turning into crystal tears that rained upon the walkway—but did not harm the living.

The Sentinels shuddered, then dissolved into still water, sinking back beneath the surface.

Camellya lowered her blade. "Nicely done."

Xue collapsed against a pillar. "I… didn't expect that."

Su wiped her brow. "They… they looked like me."

Shen sheathed his dagger. "Then be glad they're gone."

They continued, heartbeats echoing in the stone. The walkway ended at twin doors—one black, one white. Each carved with a sigil matching the two shards already claimed.

Jin approached the black door. He placed his palm against its cool surface. The spiral pulse thrummed. It cracked and opened.

Xue went to the white door. Her palm brushed the crystal root, and it split.

Both doors swung inward.

Inside lay the heart chamber: a single pool of water flanked by two thrones—one obsidian and cracked, the other marble and whole. Water dripped from each throne into the pool, creating concentric ripples that met in the center.

Camellya stepped onto the dais. "This… is where they sat." She gestured to the twin seats. "Black Emperor on the left, Bifurcated on the right. Whoever sits on both becomes their heir."

Jin Mu swallowed. He took a step forward.

Xue caught his sleeve. "Be careful."

He nodded, then sat on the left throne. The obsidian fractured under his weight but did not crumble. He felt the Emperor's power affirming him.

Then he crossed the pool and sat on the right. The marble glowed under him. The Seed's power flooded through him—cold, clarifying.

The ripple from his presence pulsed outward, shaking the pillars. The water in the pool glowed silver, then split: one half turning black, the other white.

They watched as the two halves rose—spiraling upward—into a single drop of perfect crystal. It hovered above the pool, then wove itself into Jin's chest, merging at the heart of his second sigil.

He gasped. The dual sequences aligned, forging a new harmony. The chamber's pulse slowed, then stilled.

Jin Mu rose from the thrones, whole and—somehow—stronger than ever.

He looked at his friends. "Four shards claimed. Three to go."

Camellya nodded. "One step closer."

They exited the chamber, hearts lighter but minds tense. Outside, the first birds in ages twittered in the treetops.

Hope stirred, faint but real, as they pressed on toward whatever waited beyond the City of Twin Depths—and the final crucible of their combined fates.