One piece: Without a system, I have to survive!

The shadows shifted.

Something moved.

Slow.

Unnatural.

The blue flames on the torches flickered wildly, casting jagged, twisting shadows along the stone walls.

Then, the voice spoke again.

"You have come far… but do you truly seek the truth?"

A chill ran through my spine.

This wasn't like the whispers before.

This voice was present.

It was watching.

I swallowed hard, stepping forward.

"Who are you?" I asked.

Silence.

Then—

A low chuckle.

A figure emerged from the darkness.

The Keeper of the Tomb

The figure was tall—too tall.

Draped in tattered robes, its face hidden beneath a hood.

But beneath the fabric, I saw it.

Glowing eyes.

Not two.

Not three.

Dozens.

Blazing like tiny stars in an endless void.

Shira tensed beside me.

Her grip tightened on her dagger.

The Elder did not move.

I forced myself to stand my ground.

"If you know the truth," I said, "then tell me."

The figure tilted its head.

Then, it spoke.

"The truth… is not something you will like."

A History of the Chosen

With a slow motion, the figure raised a hand.

The room shifted.

The walls glowed, ancient carvings pulsing with life.

Images appeared—moving like shadows against the stone.

And then I saw it.

The first Chosen.

Men and women, marked just like me.

Some fought back.

Some embraced the power.

But none of them escaped.

My chest tightened.

"This curse," I whispered. "What does it do?"

The figure's many eyes burned brighter.

"It changes you."

I clenched my fists.

"Into what?"

A pause.

Then, it answered.

"Into one of us."

The Price of Power

I took a step back.

My breathing was uneven.

No.

I wouldn't accept that.

"I will find a way to break this," I growled.

Another low chuckle.

"Will you? Or will you become the very thing you fear?"

The words hit like a dagger to my chest.

But I forced myself to remain firm.

"I make my own fate."

For the first time, the figure moved closer.

Shira stepped in front of me, her body tense.

But the figure only raised a single, clawed finger—

And pressed it against my mark.

A sharp, searing pain shot through me.

My vision blurred.

A flood of memories—not mine—rushed into my head.

And for a brief, terrifying moment—

I saw myself standing among the Watchers.

Cold.

Unfeeling.

One of them.