Chapter Twenty-Three: The Bearer's Legacy
The archives beneath the Veilmarket were heavy with silence.
Dust spiraled in the air, illuminated by the soft, flickering glow of enchanted lanterns. The ancient chamber stretched out before them—rows of forgotten tomes, fractured statues, and walls lined with carved depictions of the Relic's long and bloody history.
Elliott sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor, staring down at the artifact cradled in his palms.
The five shards, now fused, pulsed as one. A soft golden light emanated from their core—steady, calm, and impossibly old. It hummed with quiet power, like a storm waiting just beyond the horizon.
Across the room, the others kept their distance.
Dorian paced like a restless wolf, hand never straying far from his sword. Seraphine leaned against a cracked pillar, arms folded, sharp eyes watching everything. Elric hovered by the shelves of dusty texts, rifling through parchment with trembling hands.
And Marlow… Marlow stood apart. In the shadows. Her expression unreadable.
The weight of the relic, of the choices ahead, pressed down on all of them.
The First Bearers
"Look at this," Elric whispered, holding up a fragile parchment as if it might disintegrate at any second.
The others gathered around, eyes narrowing as they scanned the faded ink and delicate diagrams.
"The First Bearers," Elric explained, voice tight with awe and fear. "The ones who carried the relic in ages past. There were others… dozens of them."
Elliott's gaze lingered on the illustrations—figures in ancient garb, each holding a version of the relic. Their faces varied: determined, terrified, hopeful, resigned.
"They were chosen to wield it," Elric continued. "To guard it… or to use it."
Dorian's jaw clenched. "And how many of them lived?"
Elric hesitated, flipping through brittle pages. His silence was answer enough.
The Cost of Power
Seraphine tapped the parchment with a dagger tip. "It says here the relic doesn't just grant power—it consumes. Every bearer paid a price. Some lost their minds. Others… their lives."
"And those who survived?" Elliott asked quietly.
"They became tyrants," Elric admitted. "Or martyrs. Or monsters."
A chill crept down Elliott's spine.
The relic pulsed softly, as if acknowledging its own terrible reputation.
Dorian's expression darkened. "Then why carry it at all? Why not smash it? Bury it?"
"Because," Marlow said from the shadows, her voice rough, "someone worse will always find the pieces."
The Hollow King's Truth
Marlow stepped forward, eyes on Elliott.
"The Hollow King was one of them," she said. "A Bearer. Long before any of us were born."
Elliott nodded, remembering the visions from the temple. The fractured mask. The bitterness in the Hollow King's voice.
"He carried the relic once. Believed he could use it to remake the world… but it broke him instead."
"And now?" Seraphine asked.
"Now he wants it back," Marlow replied. "And he wants you broken along the way."
Divided Paths
Tension rippled through the group like a fault line.
"So what's the plan?" Dorian demanded. "We run? Hide? Wait for the world to collapse?"
Elliott rose to his feet, cradling the relic close. The glow reflected in his eyes, casting faint shadows across his face.
"No more running," he said. "We finish this."
"Meaning?" Seraphine asked.
"We find the Hollow King," Elliott said. "We face him. And we end this—one way or another."
Silence followed. Uncertainty crackled in the air.
Marlow stepped closer, her voice steady despite the turmoil. "If you go after him… you're stepping onto a path none of us come back from."
Elliott met her gaze. "I never expected to."
An Unexpected Visitor
Before anyone could argue further, a faint scraping echoed from the far end of the chamber.
Steel hissed as Dorian drew his blade. Seraphine melted into the shadows. Elric ducked behind a shelf with a startled squeak.
From the darkness beyond, a figure emerged—cloak tattered, boots worn, a faint limp in their step.
It was Captain Indigo Voss, the infamous sky pirate.
She leaned against a pillar, twirling a small charm between her fingers, her crooked grin familiar as ever.
"Miss me?" she asked, voice dripping with amused defiance.
Pirate Propositions
Dorian's sword remained raised. "How did you find us?"
"Please," Indigo scoffed, adjusting her tricorn hat. "I've been tailing you since Virella. You lot make more noise than a drunken minotaur in a porcelain shop."
Seraphine scowled. "What do you want?"
"The same thing you do," Indigo replied, expression sharpening. "To stop the Hollow King. But unlike you, I don't believe in noble speeches or happy endings."
She tossed the charm toward Elliott. He caught it instinctively—a small coin etched with the symbol of the Scarlet Corsairs.
"I have ships. Contacts. An army of disreputable, morally-flexible individuals. You have the relic. We combine forces… maybe we all survive this."
"And if we say no?" Elliott asked.
Indigo smiled, all teeth and danger. "Then I wait. The Hollow King tears you apart. And when the dust settles… I take what's left."
The Decision
The group exchanged uncertain glances.
They needed allies. Resources. Options.
But trusting Indigo was like playing cards with a hungry shark—you might win, but the odds weren't great.
Elliott considered the relic in his hands—the power, the danger, the impossible responsibility.
"We'll talk," he said carefully. "But make no mistake… we're not playing your game."
Indigo's grin widened. "Oh, sweetheart. We're all in the same game now. Whether you like it or not."
Closing Shadows
Later, as the others argued strategies and betrayals, Elliott slipped away to the edge of the chamber.
The relic hovered before him, glowing softly.
Visions swirled in its depths—of ruined cities, starless skies, and a masked figure waiting at the end of the world.
Elliott's reflection stared back at him—uncertain, young, but resolute.
The legacy of the Bearers weighed on him.
But this time… maybe the story would end differently.