The smell of polished quartz and faintly humming runes filled the air in Aetherion's Starlit Sanctum. The Council of Gatewards loomed like statues carved from shadow and starlight from a crescent-shaped table in front of Ethan Cole. In the light of the crystalline dome of the chamber, prismatic flecks were scattered across the floor of their robes, which were woven with threads that glistened like captured nebulae. The rune of starlight on Ethan's palm pulsed faintly, as though it sensed the gravity of the situation, and his hands twitched at his sides.
Seated at the top of the table, Elder Valthor Drayce leaned forward, his silver eyes gleaming like sharpened blades. Although his voice was smooth and almost fatherly, it was sharp. "Gatekeeper Reed, tell me about the altercation on the edge. Taryn is dead, and Aetherion's defenses were breached by a Voidspawn. Your hands are already stained with blood from your first mission."
Ethan's throat grew constricted. His mind flashed back to the image of Taryn's rumpled body, ichor pooling beneath his broken starlight daggers. Although he had only known him briefly, he was a reserved custodian who laughed nervously, and his passing had unsettled him. Not only because of the loss, but also because it revealed his lack of experience. In the battle, Marcus's blade had been guided by muscle memory, but Ethan's hesitation had cost him valuable seconds. The tremor that had shaken the gate-plaza as it ripped through was still audible to him, as was the guttural screech of the Voidspawn.
Ethan forced his voice to remain steady as he said, "I… we were ambushed. The First Gate's fractured rune was the source of the Voidspawn. As Torren had taught me, I used a surge to seal it, but Taryn had already missed the opportunity." The words seemed to be taken from Marcus's disjointed recollections and put together. They sounded weak and defensive, and he detested that.
Valthor's lips curled into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Sealed it, did you? A beginner on his first excursion with a surge. Outstanding. Or reckless." As though mocking Ethan's waning confidence, he leaned back with his fingers steepled and the runes on his robe flickering. "Remember, Reed, did you feel the void-taint prior to the assault? Or did other issues divert your attention too much?"
Like a noose, the question dangled. Ethan's heartbeat accelerated. Valthor's voice was full of accusations, which were sharp enough to pierce but subtle enough to pass for concern. He was examining Ethan closely, looking for any weaknesses in his façade. Was he aware of the transmigration? The piece of journal Ethan had discovered in Marcus's room, with the words "The Council hides the truth" scrawled on it? The rune on his shoulder grew hotter, seemingly pleading for quiet. In Ethan's mind, Marcus's mistrust of Valthor resurfaced as a faint echo, a recollection of the former gatekeeper standing in this very room, watching Valthor's calculating smiles with increasing discomfort.
"I sensed something," Ethan said cautiously, looking directly into Valthor's eyes. "There was a hum in the gate, as if it were unsteady. I reported it to Sylra." He looked down at Sylra Veyne, standing stiff beside him, her silver hair a sharp contrast to the cool colors of the Sanctum. On her shoulder, the insignia of her warden shone, a reminder of her position and the confidence Ethan was beginning to have in her. She gave him a slight nod, her eyes piercing with silent encouragement.
Sylra briefly caught Valthor's attention before returning to Ethan. Nevertheless, the breach happened. Your judgment might have been impaired by your inexperience. Marcus Reed was a warden of precision. You appear to be less certain. The elder gaslighted with the skill of an experienced manipulator, and his words were like a velvet glove over a steel fist. Ethan's stomach churned.
Before he could answer, Sylra moved forward and spoke, her voice piercing the room like a knife. The breach was contained, Elder Valthor, with all due respect. The gate was stabilized by Ethan's surge, and Torren's report demonstrates that the Voidspawn was an isolated incident rather than a planned assault. The upkeep of the gate, not the gatekeeper, is to blame. Although she spoke in a firm tone, Ethan could see the strain in her jaw. It was a dangerous move in this hierarchical web for her to challenge an elder.
Despite his tightening smile, Valthor dismissed it with a wave of his hand. Indeed, Warden Veyne. We've noticed your devotion to your… colleague. However, given the increasing frequency of these tremors, the Council needs confirmation that our gates are secure. He stopped and fixed his gaze on Ethan's. The assertion that our gatekeepers are who they say they are.
The other elders' stares seemed to weigh down Ethan like a physical burden, making the room appear to get smaller. Auralis, a severe woman with a scar running the length of her jaw, watched in silence, her face unreadable. Uncomfortably, Myren, the seasoned faction leader who had mentioned Marcus's allies to Ethan, shifted. The atmosphere hummed with unsaid charges, and Ethan sensed Marcus's mistrust rekindling—a recollection of Valthor's private sessions, of coded communications that Marcus had intercepted prior to his death. Something the elder was concealing, and Ethan began to suspect that it had something to do with the journal's warning.
Auralis said, "Enough," in a quiet but firm voice. "I'm more worried about the tremors than the skirmish. Similar instability is indicated by reports from Pyrehold, and the runes of the First Gate are fraying. We'll meet again once the gatekeepers have finished their investigation." Valthor stayed, his eyes on Ethan like a predator assessing his prey, but she stood, indicating that the session was over.
Sylra drew Ethan toward the archives of the Sanctum, a maze of crystal shelves glowing with runes of starlight, while the Council scattered. She mumbled, "Don't let Valthor get under your skin," as her boots reverberated on the quartz floor. His practice of needling gatekeepers dates back to the aftermath of the Dawn War. Marcus did not trust him.
With his thoughts racing, Ethan nodded. "I sensed it. Marcus's memories… He was constantly being watched by Valthor, who inquired about his missions. He seemed to be searching for something." After hesitating, he continued, "The journal revealed a secret that the Council is concealing. Do you believe that Valthor is involved?"
Though her eyes narrowed, Sylra took a moment to respond. They arrived at a remote alcove with a rune-locked chest resting beneath a glimmering star fragment. She traced the runes on the chest with her finger and said, "Marcus hid things here." "He had doubts about the primary archives of the Sanctum. Too many eyes." The runes glowed and clicked open as she channeled a surge, her starlight blade humming. There were scraps of parchment inside, written in Marcus's scrawny script. As Sylra raised one, its edges charred as though contacted by void-energy, her breath caught.
She read out loud, "The shrine in the spires," not raising her voice much above a whisper. "Seek the High Gods' echo. The truth lies beyond the tenth gate." Her expression was grim as she gave Ethan the parchment. "This is old; it was before Marcus's most recent expedition. The shrine… it's forbidden. It was sealed by the Council centuries ago on the grounds that void-taint had tainted it."
The faint glow of the parchment matched the pulse of Ethan's rune. The image of Marcus kneeling in a secret room with crystal pillars singing in the voices of the High Gods flashed through my mind. In Marcus's mind, the names Serathys, Lumara, and Vyrathys were associated with a warning about an unnatural gate. The tenth gate. Ethan's heart pounded. "Why would the Council hide a shrine? And what's this about a tenth gate?"
As though anticipating Valthor's arrival, Sylra shook her head and looked toward the alcove's entrance. "During the Dawn War, before they weakened, the gates were forged by the High Gods, Serathys and the others. The ninth gate, Abysscara, was their last, meant to seal Zorathys's chaos. A tenth gate… that's heresy. If Marcus discovered evidence, it would explain his murder.
Ethan's thoughts whirled. Zorathys. The whispers of the rune, the cryptic warnings in the journal, and Valthor's probing all hinted at a conspiracy that was deep within Aetherion. His grip tightened around the parchment, its words burning into his mind. Marcus had lost his life as a result of being near something hazardous. Ethan was now putting the pieces back together.
"Valthor isn't merely trying to trick me, Sylra, if the Council is concealing this. He's covering his tracks." Even though Ethan's voice was low, he was surprised by how certain it was. Marcus was experiencing a psychological echo of a man he had never met as his mistrust seeped into his own. As a journalist, he had exposed a cult on Earth, and he recalled how their leader had deceived him into questioning his own evidence. The strategies used by Valthor seemed uncannily similar: covert charges, pretended worry, and an authoritative façade concealing hidden agendas.
With a fierce look, Sylra nodded. "We need to find that shrine. If Marcus left more clues there, it could expose Valthor—or whoever's pulling the strings. But the Council cannot know. Not just yet." The runes on the chest dimmed as she closed it. "We're meeting Torren tonight. His attention has been focused on the gate tremors. We must ascertain whether they are bound to this tenth gate."
Ethan's rune flared up once more as they were leaving the archives, and a dim recollection came to mind: Marcus standing in the Sanctum, watching Valthor confer with a shadowed figure. Always too flawless, the elder's smile concealed a truth Marcus had sacrificed his life for. Ethan's hands tightened. Although he wasn't Marcus, he was beginning to sense his anger and his need for clarification. At its core was Valthor, and the Council's mask was shifting.
The corridors of the Starlit Sanctum went on forever, their walls throbbing with runes that seemed to be whispering secrets. With the burden of Valthor's interrogation hanging over them like a storm cloud, Ethan trailed Sylra through a labyrinth of quartz arches. Questions raced through his head. Why had Marcus concealed information about a prohibited shrine? When the tenth gate was mentioned, how did the rune on his hand respond? When the tenth gate was mentioned, how did the rune on his hand respond? He had witnessed it on Earth, where power was concealed behind smiles in backrooms and boardrooms. The only difference was that Valthor's game was played on a cosmic scale.
They arrived at a small room with a softly glowing mosaic of shattered stars on the ceiling. There, Torren waited, his large frame resting on a pillar carved with runes. He stated, without introducing himself, "Valthor is pushing harder. He has summoned Auralis and the others to a closed session. The tremors—and you, Ethan—are the topic of conversation."
Ethan felt nauseous. "Me? Why?"
Torren clenched his teeth. "You're not Marcus, not fully. They sense it. Valthor has been examining your rune surges and claiming that they are unstable. The same way he did with Marcus previously, he is portraying you as a liability. The implication was obvious even though he trailed off. Prior to Marcus's murder."
With her arms folded, Sylra hummed softly at her hip with her starlight blade. Valthor's evasive. Even before Ethan showed up, the tremors began. Marcus died for his investigation into them. It's evidence that he was right about something the Council doesn't want us to know, that shrine note.
Torren took a tiny fragment of star from his cloak and nodded. There were faint but pulsing etched runes that shimmered on its surface. "In Marcus's former quarters, I discovered this concealed in a gate-rune. Although it is locked with a High God cipher, it is connected to the First Gate's archive. It appears to be a map to the shrine."
With its warmth leaking into his palm, Ethan accepted the shard. As the rune on his shoulder flared, he was reminded of another memory: Marcus writing a code in the dark while muttering to himself about a "void's echo" in the spires of Aetherion. The shrine was more than simply a location; it was a key that connected people to the High Gods who had created the world. The urge to find the truth was the same, even though Ethan's Earth life—searching through files and following leads—felt far away. Despite the confusion in his head, he asked in a steady voice, "Can we decode it?"
Torren's gaze grew strained. "Time will be needed. The cipher is ancient, dating back to the Dawn War. However, if it leads to the shrine, it might reveal what Marcus knew and the reason behind Valthor's intense desire to bury it."
With a softening expression, Sylra looked at Ethan. "Marcus mistrusted you, didn't you sense that?" Standing facing Valthor in the Sanctum. "It's not only you. For centuries, he has been undermining anyone who challenges the Council in this game. Marcus saw right through it, and now you're taking on his battle."
With the weight of her words sinking in, Ethan swallowed. "Pieces of a puzzle Marcus had sacrificed his life to solve included the rune's pulse, the journal's hints, and the mystery of the shrine. And at its core was the shadow of Valthor, with his piercing eyes and silken voice." Ethan remembered the cult leader on Earth and how his charisma had concealed his insanity. Although Valthor's mask was more elegant, it was just as deadly.
With the star-shard in his hand, Ethan said, "I'll do it. I'll track down the shrine. If Valthor is concealing something, we must find out what it is and why." He didn't fully feel the resolve in his voice, but he was grounded by Sylra's nod and Torren's grunt of approval. Notwithstanding his borrowed body and his shaky abilities, they had faith in him. Even though it was brittle, that trust seemed to be the only thing that was stable in this world of veiled threats and shifting runes.
Over Aetherion, darkness descended, the crystalline spires gleaming beneath an infinite starry sky. The arch of the First Gate shimmered in the distance as Ethan stood by himself on a balcony with a view of the gate-plaza. Unstable and flickering, its runes served as a reminder of the tremor that had allowed the Voidspawn to enter. He reenacted Taryn's death, her blade shattering and her scream being interrupted. She had paid the price for his hesitation, as he was uncertain about the surge of starlight. Valthor repeated: Your judgment was impaired by your lack of experience. Was it true? Or was Valthor stoking uncertainty and destroying Ethan's self-esteem like a virus?
As the rune on his shoulder pulsed, Marcus's memory came back to him: Valthor in a dim hallway, handing a rune-sealed scroll to a void-energy-clad figure. Although the memory was brief, the mistrust was profound. Marcus had concealed notes and shards to safeguard his discoveries because he was aware of Valthor's danger. Torren handed him a star-shard, which Ethan gripped more tightly. Zorathys, the tenth gate, and the shrine all hinted at a reality that the Council dreaded. It was being protected by Valthor, who had the authority of his elder.
On the balcony, Sylra joined him, her presence a silent comfort. With her back to the railing, she remarked, "Torren is working on the cipher. He believes it has something to do with one of the High Gods, Serathys. If Marcus found a shrine, it might hold an oracle—a direct link to her. But the Council banned those centuries ago, saying they were tainted. Sound familiar?"
Ethan nodded, the journal's words echoing: The Council hides the truth. "Valthor's not just covering up a shrine. He's scared of what it'll reveal. Marcus was close to something big, wasn't he?"
Sylra's eyes darkened. "Enormous enough to kill." If there is a tenth gate, it alters everything. The purpose of the gates was to maintain harmony between the realms and contain Zorathys's mayhem. A tenth gate could indicate that the High Gods were dishonest or, worse, incompetent. Her voice trailed off as she hesitated. "Valthor has been too quick to blame you for the tremors and dismiss them. Ethan, he's concealing something. I am aware of it."
Ethan's thoughts shifted back to Earth, to the trial of the cult leader, and how he had used charm and lies to shift the blame. Gaslighting the Council, the gatekeepers, and possibly even himself, Valthor was doing the same. However, there were holes in that mask—Marcus's recollections, the whispers of the rune, and the clue from the shrine. Although Ethan wasn't a gatekeeper in the traditional sense, he was a journalist who sought the truth by exposing falsehoods. It was something he could do again.
He looked directly into Sylra's eyes and said, "We'll find the shrine." "And Valthor will be exposed."