Despite Sanè's silence, the voice did not stop.....Instead, the voice lingered....morr closer now, more present, as though it had settled comfortably into the space between his thoughts. There was something unmistakably amused about it, a faint ripple of satisfaction that made his skin crawl.
"You performed… adequately," the voice said at last, its tone was light, almost teasing. "That moment with the twins— it was intense. Inefficient in places, but decisive."
Sanè stiffened.
His eyes flicked instinctively toward the drifting violet petals, as if they might shield him from the implication behind those words.
"You were watching?" he asked slowly.
A low chuckle rolled through the void.
"Watching," the voice repeated. "Feeling, experiencing. You forget, little bearer—I am bound to you. When your pulse quickens, so does mine. When desire clouds your mind, I do not look away."
Sanè felt a faint heat rise in his chest—not embarrassment alone, but something else.
"You did well," the voice continued, unbothered by his silence. "Dominance matters. Especially when dealing with predators who think themselves hunters."
The petals rotated once, gently.
Sanè exhaled through his nose. "You sound… pleased."
"I am," the voice replied simply. "You did not hesitate when instinct took over.....and that's good. Cause hesitation is what kills most.... especially hollows."
There it was again—that word spoken with quiet certainty.
Hollows.
Sanè hesitated, then asked the question that had been circling his thoughts since the voice first revealed itself.
"I'm called the Ninety-Ninth Shadow," he said. "What does that mean?"
The void seemed to deepen....
"There are others like me," the voice replied. "Vestiges born from the same origin. Over a hundred, scattered across the world. Some dormant. Some active. Some… already gone."
Sanè frowned. "So the number—does it mean strength?"
It seemed logical to him. Rankings always were.
For a moment, there was silence.
Then the voice laughed.
Not loudly—but richly, with genuine amusement.
"You mortals are predictable," it said. "Always measuring worth by force."
"So it's not power?" Sanè pressed.
"No," the Vestige answered. "The numbering has nothing to do with strength."
The petals slowed, drifting into a loose formation.
"We are numbered by the order of our fall," the voice continued. "The First Shadow was the first to descend into ruin. The Hundredth was the last. I am the Ninety-Ninth—not weak, not strong by default. Merely… late."
Sanè stared.
All this time, he had assumed.
That his Vestige—his Shadow—was near the bottom. Inferior. Barely surviving.
"You thought I was weak," the voice said calmly. "I felt it."
Sanè said nothing.
"You are wrong," it added. "And also not entirely."
Sanè was confused by it's statement.
"Power among Shadows is not fixed," the Vestige explained. "It changes....cause It is taken."
Sanè's chest tightened. "Taken how?"
Another pause.
Then the voice lowered, losing its humor.
"We devour one another."
The words echoed heavily.
"All Shadowed Ones share dominion over darkness," the Vestige continued. "But mastery differs. When one falls—truly falls—their essence does not vanish. It is consumed. Absorbed by another Shadow."
Sanè felt a cold weight settle in his gut.
"So… they hunt each other."
"Yes," the voice replied. "Instinctively. So it's Inevitable."
The void pulsed once....as the voice continued.
"You must understand this," it said. "Now that you have reached Three Voidstars, you are visible."
Sanè's breath caught. "Visible to who?"
"To them," the Vestige answered. "Other Shadowed Ones. Just as you can now sense the faint pull of their existence, they can sense you."
Sanè thought back—to a brief moments of unease he had felt before, a pressure he couldn't name, like a feeling of being watched even when he was alone.
"This is why strength matters," the voice went on. "Not for conquest....but for survival."
Sanè clenched his jaw. "And what happens when a Shadow falls?"
The Vestige's tone shifted again— it was measured yet cautious.
"Something changes," it said. "Not always immediately...or predictable. But the world will certainly react."
A faint distortion rippled through the void, like a crack in glass.....as soon as he said that.
"Wormholes, Anomalies. Beasts drawn to places they should not reach. Cause Shadows do not fall quietly."
Sanè's mind was blank for a while, as he tried to understand what the voice had just told him.
Before he could ask more, another thought surfaced in his mind.....something physical yet tangible.
"The box," he said suddenly. "The one I took from the bandit leader."
The petals brightened faintly....as if reacting to him.
"That," the Vestige said, "is an artifact."
Sanè frowned. "What's an artifact?"
For the first time, the voice hesitated.
But before it could answer—
"99."
The void shattered.
Sanè's eyes snapped open as a hand gripped his shoulder.
He sucked in a sharp breath, as he was back to reality, the campfire was still snapping loudly in front of him. The smell of smoke, dry grass, and ash rushed back all at once.
200 knelt beside him, her masked face tilted slightly in concern.
"You were out," she said. "Longer than usual."
Sanè blinked, grounding himself.
The petals were gone.
The voice was silent.
Atleast For now.
"I'm fine," he said, steadying his breath. "Just… thinking."
200 studied him for a moment longer, then withdrew her hand.
Sanè leaned back, staring into the flames.
The box rested in his pack.
Sanè rose to his feet and brushed the dust from his clothes. The sky above had already brightened, the pale blue of early day stretching across the horizon.
Without wasting time, they resumed their journey on foot toward Dravenloch City.
As they walked, Sanè broke the silence. "Does anyone know what an artifact is?"
111 glanced sideways at him, then shook his head. "No. Sounds like something nobles hoard."
123 shrugged. "If it's important, Transmuters or the High Council would know."
200 said nothing, but her silence was answer enough.
Sanè's curiosity deepened. His hand subconsciously drifted to the pouch at his side, as his fingers brush the smooth surface of the cube hidden within. The Vestige's words echoed faintly in his mind, making the object feel heavier than it should have been.
By the time Dravenloch came into view, the sky had darkened once more. Night had fully settled, and the moon hung at its peak, casting silver light over the battered walls of the city.
They stopped a good distance from the gates.
Two guards stood at the entrance. Even from afar, it was clear they were alert. And Masks would not be welcomed—especially not now.
They exchanged glances, quietly considering their options.
Before anyone could speak, Sanè stepped forward. "I'll go."
111 frowned. "Alone?"
Sanè nodded. "I can move through the dark without being seen."
They knew it was true. His control over shadows had grown—unnervingly so.
Still, 123 hesitated. "We could go to Vain City instead. It's close enough."
"I know," Sanè replied. "But I need to enter here."
There was something firm in his tone, something final.
"Wait for me," he added.
After a moment, they agreed.
Sanè turned toward the city, as the darkness around him already beginning to bend to his favor.