The first sound came from nowhere — a single clang, like an iron bell struck deep beneath the earth. Then another. And another.
Each toll echoed through the ruins, rattling the bones of the dead and the hearts of the living. The air turned cold enough to bite.
Eris raised his weapon — the blade of seven souls — and its light flickered weakly, as though afraid.
"Stay close," he muttered to Liora, his eyes never leaving the Herald.
But she was already trembling, clutching her charm of white feathers. "Those bells… they're calling something," she whispered. "I can feel them inside my head."
Eris could feel it too. Each ring was a pulse that dug into the mind, scraping away thought, leaving only the instinct to kneel — to obey.
The Herald stepped forward. The ground around its feet decayed instantly, flowers turning to ash, stones to dust.
> "You cannot stand before what precedes you," it murmured, its voice layered — a chorus of echoes stretching from the dawn of time.
Eris tightened his grip and forced his voice steady.
> "Then I'll stand against what comes after."
The moment he spoke, the bells stopped.
The silence was total — suffocating. Then, the Herald moved, faster than thought.
A slash of shadow crossed the world. Eris barely blocked, the impact sending him skidding back across the stone. The ground cratered, light and darkness twisting around the clash.
Liora screamed his name — and then vanished in a flash of violet fire as a portal swallowed her whole.
Eris' rage ignited.
He raised his sword again, whispering the forbidden invocation of the Clan of Seven.
> "From death, we rise. From ruin, we reign."
The runes on his skin began to glow red.