Marius Reza swiftly tore a loaf of cinnamon bread in half. He placed one half back on the kitchen counter while devouring the other half as he exited the Reza Manor. The cook and her wraith exchanged disapproving glances before seizing the remaining half of the bread and slicing it. Reza swiftly unlatched the kitchen’s back door and glanced outside to ensure the coast was clear before slipping through. He quickly donned his grey uniform jacket and hurried through the garden, finishing his stolen breakfast. It seemed he had escaped just in time.
He encountered the few servants already diligently working to prepare the gardens for the Anceslia. Having assisted for the past few days, Reza had little inclination to contribute this morning with the preparations. His intention was to sneak out into the city to train and indulge in some fun before his sisters discovered his absence.
Reza returned to the city having been granted a week’s leave, from the seventh legion, for his family’s Anceslia, a celebration honoring their ancestors. This particular Anceslia held significance as it would be the first since his mother’s passing and his first as the head of the household. His sisters had labored for weeks, and over the past two days, he had been back, subjected to numerous household chores, primarily heavy lifting with the other male servants. They were acutely aware that if he managed to escape to Arkhen, he would likely be forced out of the city at dusk and would be rendered useless the following day.
Marius passed by Damon, the gardener, who was hunched over, meticulously cutting the cultivated bushes and vines that bordered the main entertaining area of the garden. Damon’s wraith accompanied him, its light green glow synchronizing with his precise movements as they wielded their blades with magical precision, meticulously tending to the garden’s flora to achieve perfection before the party. They worked at a deliberate pace, ensuring that each bush was flawless before proceeding to the next. Given Damon’s meticulous nature, he would likely continue his work for the next three days until he reached his desired level of satisfaction.
The man and his spectral companion were utterly engrossed in their craft. Damon could speak for hours about every meticulous decision he made to maintain the garden’s immaculate state. Reza’s mother had granted him unrestricted access to the small estate and the financial resources to sustain his endeavors. Marius continued to provide Damon with the funds, not only as a tribute to his mother but also in recognition of the exceptional work the gardener accomplished. Damon had been immensely proud of the garden’s near-perfect state, even during the coldest winters; his meticulous care had garnered recognition across the surrounding estates. Numerous neighbors had attempted to recruit Damon onto their staff, but he remained steadfastly loyal to the Reza family and his beloved garden.
Reza acknowledged the man’s as he swiftly exited the back gate and started down the road towards the city. With a determined pace, he could potentially reach his destination within an hour and might even manage to navigate the city before the crowds transformed the main city roads into impassable thoroughfares. Double-checking his belongings, his coin pouch contained a respectful amount of gold ghouls and silver shades. His dagger and sword were securely balanced on his hips.
Preparing to set off, Reza turned to walk down the road, but within seconds of leaving the estate, he was abruptly halted by the familiar voice of his sister, Octavia. “Now, Marius, you didn’t think you’d escape that easily?”
He turned around, trying to maintain a neutral expression to conceal the guilt surging through him. “Tavia, I need a break. You’ve been working me relentlessly since I returned from the Legion, pushing me harder than even the Legion’s soldiers endure. I’m taking the morning to train and have a proper lunch with friends.”
Tavia stood at the gate, already drenched in sweat, her black hair pulled back from her face. She scrutinized him, and it seemed she was determined to resist. Reza prepared to summon his wraith to escape. He would take the break today and deal with her wrath later tonight.
However, she unexpectedly surprised him by waving her hands in defeat and turning to return to the estate. “You’ll owe me, brother. When you return, please stop by the Breanors first and inquire about their response to the invitation. I need to know if Marsi’s betrothed is coming.”
Reza stared wide-eyed at the closed gate, momentarily taken aback by Tavia’s sudden disappearance behind it. She was not known to back down on what she thought needed to be done. Marius groaned, knowing there would be a list of chores a mile long for him to complete when he returned. This break better be worth it.
Though he was the head of the household, with him in the Legion and barely able to return home, Tavia, only a few years younger than him at twenty-five, effectively became the de facto head of the estate and the family. Using this power, she aggressively pursued the family’s interests. She had already begun amassing a substantial merchant portfolio for the estate. Her dealings were ruthless, and she refused to be pushed around. He had invested a significant portion of the family resources with her, and he was confident in her ability to help the family and his own finances flourish. Marius often trusted and sought Tavia’s guidance on how to best steer the family, especially after their mother’s passing two years ago.
Reza swiftly descended the road, maintaining a cautious gaze as he glanced back at his estate. He had narrowly escaped Tavia, but he was determined to prevent his other sister and the youngest Reza, Cassia, from pursuing him and forcing him back home.
With purposeful strides, he headed towards the city, its walls gleaming in the morning sunlight as he emerged from the hill that concealed the great city from his family’s estate. Although they remained invisible from this distance, each stone that formed the imposing walls of Arkhen bore enigmatic dark runes etched into them in an unknown language. For centuries, numerous individuals and groups had embarked on a quest to decipher the secrets hidden within these runes. Extensive research and attempts at translation had yielded no concrete answers—one of the many enduring mysteries that characterized this great city he called home.
The city, nestled on the banks of the Venerik River, his own small estate just north of its center. The river traversed the city, emptying into the harbor before finally reaching the narrow Miska Sea.
“I’ll never tire of this breathtaking sight,” Reza whispered to himself, strolling towards the northern gate. And he hadn’t yet; the magnificent city stood as the epitome of its kind. Its rune-covered grey walls shimmered now visible. Among all the cities within the remnants of the old empire, none could match its splendor. Despite its population being half of its potential capacity, it remained the most populous city within the former empire. Only Gettan, a city far to the southeast, was rumored to surpass its population. Reza had never ventured so far south to verify these claims; the closest he had come was during his visit to Terrik, a city half the size of Arkhen and a week’s journey south. Terrik served as the closest Remnant Kingdom to Arkhen, a city that emerged from the remnants of the Old Empire when it crumbled.
Reza, maintaining a steady pace, found himself delayed in entering the city through the northern gate. He was compelled to navigate around a substantial caravan that had just arrived from the Northern kingdoms. After successfully circumventing the train, Reza wasted no time and proceeded to approach the small gate, designed for individual individuals or small groups. The larger gate remained obstructed, preventing large crowds and the caravan from entering.
As Reza reached the front of the line, a guard halted him, holding his spear in front of the small gate. “What brings you here?” the guard inquired.
Reza glanced down at his uniform jacket and indicated it. I may be wearing traveling clothes, but how does this man fail to recognize a legion-issued jacket?
“I’ll train at one of the barracks and have a meal with some friends. I just came from the Reza estate, an hour north of here,” he said, trying to keep his annoyance in check. He knew the man had a job, but it wasn’t like he was a foreigner or, worse, a wraith pilgrim.
“Fair enough. Continue; the gate closes at nightfall. If you plan to leave, give yourself enough time, or you won’t be allowed out.” He moved the spear out of the doorway, and Reza went through.
Reza made his way slowly through the city. Unfortunately, due to his detour on the road, there were already thousands, possibly even tens of thousands of people on the streets, accompanied by thousands of wraiths floating alongside them. Each wraith was unique; their color, attire, and the items they carried made them a sight to behold in the city. Multiple caught Reza’s attention as he entered the city’s center. A glowing red wraith, clad only in his loincloth, moved in synchronization with its pact holder, a young man carrying a stack of scrolls in his arms. They hurried through the street simultaneously. At the same time, another female wraith, adorned in a toga, glided gracefully beside a carriage carrying a young noblewoman through the crowded streets.
He resisted the urge to summon Elana, his own wraith, knowing that summoning them required power and that he had always been trained to avoid recklessly using his abilities, lest something go awry. Even in the city, his soldier instincts kept him cautious. In fact, he believed it was probably more perilous here, where he could become complacent. Arkhen, while reasonably safe, still had its secluded areas where one shouldn’t venture alone at night.
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As he waited, Reza observed the young noblewoman smile at him as she passed by in her carriage. He returned her smile briefly but continued his journey. There was no time for such distractions.
He crossed one of the main bridges leading to the central island that formed the city’s core, aiming to reach the best training grounds, which were approximately a twenty-minute walk from the forum. Reza kept moving, allowing his mind to wander.
He couldn’t help but think about the noblewoman again. Did she know his true identity? Although he wasn’t a noble of the ten families, he still held a rank and was an Optio in the seventh legion. He might even be able to advance to Centurion if he could persuade Tavia to allocate some of the family’s funds.
However, he would also likely need to leverage the family’s connections with various noble families when an opening arose. Nevertheless, that could be years away; none of the ten centurions of the seventh legion were nearing retirement and were unlikely to leave unless one passed away. In such circumstances, he might consider transferring to another Legion.
It’s unlikely that a war will break out anytime soon. The remnants of the Old Empire were content with the land they controlled. We had inflicted enough damage on them in recent years that they were satisfied enough to allow the city to continue with its small territory under its control. The Northern Kingdoms never bothered the city, while the Gettan Empire had been engaged in wars on their western border for the past three years and hadn’t ventured eastward in that time.
Reza’s mind was elsewhere when he had to abruptly stop before colliding with a small crowd blocking his path into the forum. He looked up. Many of the people holding him up were older; their clothes were tattered and worn, and a thick layer of dust still covered their cloaks.
Wraith pilgrims, individuals who ventured to the city of wraiths in pursuit of death within its eerie walls, possessed a peculiar quirk. Within its runed walls, something prevented souls from departing the world, granting them the existence of wraiths and the ability to interact with the natural world through a pact.
In exchange for this pact, the living person would acquire a unique ability, ranging from enhanced strength to something more profound and far-reaching, connected to their shade.
Reza personally found no allure in becoming a wraith, yet numerous individuals, from humble farmers to powerful kings, embarked on journeys spanning hundreds or even thousands of miles to meet their demise within these walls. The knowledge of their afterlife within the city provided immense comfort to many, even if, in Reza’s perspective, it resembled an eternal prison. Despite this, Wraith Pilgrims continued to choose death within the city’s walls.
Reza navigated through the crowd, entering the heart of the forum. Surrounded by imposing stone buildings, a stark contrast to the predominantly wooden structures in other neighborhoods of Arkhen, the forum stood as a grand centerpiece. Encircled by these magnificent buildings, only a few streets pierced through the expansive, open area that dominated the island. The entire space was adorned with large, polished marble slabs, capable of comfortably accommodating nearly a hundred thousand people. Although such massive gatherings were rare beyond significant holidays, they were a common occurrence in the past . In those days, past emperors and empresses would address the public, and their presence would draw crowds eager to witness their presence.
The once-thriving white palace lay in silence, its throne empty. The royal line had long since vanished, leaving no noble family strong enough to claim its legacy. Today, only the Archons resided within its walls, the royal lineage extinguished. It was likely that only the steward and her servants roamed its halls, while the Archons were out in the field with their Legions.
Reza surveyed the thirteen black stone towers of the echoes, only nine still standing tall, encircling the forum and its buildings with four crumbling towers, mere remnants of the past. Nine radiant white beacons shone brightly at the pinnacles of the nine intact towers, but their light would soon fade as the sun rose. Despite the early morning’s brightness, Reza was compelled to shield his eyes with his hand as he approached the palace, seeking refuge from the scorching sunlight. Using the massive building’s shade, he carefully navigated around the bustling patrons, attempting to bypass the forum’s chaos and make his way through. However, his efforts were thwarted when he suddenly stopped hearing his name being called out behind him.
“Reza, is that you?” Cain, an old family friend and a soldier in the Sixth Legion, made his way through the crowd toward Reza. His imposing presence was easily noticeable, as he stood almost a head taller than most individuals, including Marius.
“Reza, you reckless fool! How long have you been in the city?” They embraced, grasping each other’s forearms before Cain enveloped Reza in a massive hug.
“Not long. I just arrived in the city. I came from the legion about two days ago. Unfortunately, Tavia and Cassia kept me working for the Anceslia. As for you, I presumed you were with the Sixth.” I glanced around to ascertain if he was accompanied by anyone, but the imposing man appeared to be alone.
Moving closer to the palace, Reza and Cain settled down on the grand marble steps leading up to it, providing them with an excellent vantage point to observe the forum below.
Reza enjoyed watching the people and their wraiths engaged in various activities at the different vendors who had established their businesses within the forum. Merchants loudly proclaimed their wares, while shoppers diligently made purchases. Guards patrolled, ensuring compliance with the city’s laws, and even a small play was entertaining children at the bottom of the stairs. Notably, the guards stationed at the palace’s entrance appeared to tolerate the people using the stairs as seating, while maintaining vigilant eyes on the individuals below them.
“I’m just home on leave. How’s Tavia doing? It’s been years since I last saw her. The legion has been tough lately, even without combat.” He laughed, but it was a bit strained. Cain has had a crush on Tavia for years, but she never reciprocated. He’d taken it well, but Reza knew he hope she’ll change her mind.
“The boss, as always, treats me like the younger sibling. I guess she has to act that way since I’m gone. I hoped for more leave, but it was incredibly difficult to get this much off. It’s been two years since I’ve been back. It’s frustrating that the legion has been a five-day march from the city for two years, but we couldn’t return.” Reza complained. Thousands of soldiers had continued to feel frustrated from the ever worsening situation in the army, when it cam to breaks. Only recently, had leave been reintroduced to keep the men happy. Though only fifty soldiers can be absent at any given time, and only two officers are allowed to leave simultaneously. It’s been a year since Reza has been waiting for his turn.
“It’s as usual. I don’t mind; the city’s overcrowded with people and wraiths. I prefer the Legion Fortress; it’s quieter there. I only returned because my younger brother is about to make his wraith pact. Mother asked me to come and support him.” Both Reza and Cain glanced across the forum to a very different building opposite the palace. It was a ruinous structure that starkly contrasted with the gleaming white palace. The cracked black stone walls were covered in spider webs, and the half-collapsed ceiling was barely supported by the structure. Everyone kept away from the building, making it easy, even from this distance, to spot a ghostly wraith sitting at the entrance. The same wraith had been present for all the pacts, and anyone attempting to make a pact had to first be judged by the wraith before they were allowed entry into the ruined building.
Reza’s memories of his first attempt at entering the building resurfaced. On his sixteenth birthday, his father had brought him, accompanied by Tavia and Cassia, to witness his attempt. With cautious steps, Reza approached the wraith, each step feeling like a grueling battle against his fear of turning back and running. Despite the overwhelming apprehension, he forced himself to take another step closer to the white shade, driven by an unwavering desire to make a pact.
The wraith appeared even more terrifying up close, its broken crown lying on its head and clothes tattered beyond recognition. The shade’s face was extensively scarred, with fierce eyes piercing through Reza as the wraith cruelly gazed upon him from its throne. Reza froze when the eyes locked onto his, unsure of what course of action to take.
“Move closer, Marius,” his father’s voice echoed through the hall.
Gritting his teeth, Reza inched closer to the wraith, standing just a foot away from the throne it occupied. The ghost remained unmoving, its eyes fixed on Reza until one hand gestured forward, allowing him to enter the building. The seconds it took for Reza to make his decision felt like an eternity, the wraith’s eyes never leaving his.
"When does he make his way?" Reza’s mind was haunted by the memories of confronting the wraith. The fear he had felt when he gazed upon that scarred face still lingered. A shiver ran down his spine. To this day, no one has any clue about the wraith’s purpose or why people were unable to gain access to him. But Damn, that ghost still gives me the chills to this day.
He'd never tried to make another pact, so he was lucky that he had not made another journey to him.
“An hour or so. I tried to advise him, but you know the tales people tell about that wraith.” Cain chuckled as he fixed his gaze on the broken king. “I wonder how long it will take him to muster enough courage to attempt his feat.”
Reza nodded in agreement. There were countless stories of children and adults alike being devoured by the wraith, their souls torn from their bodies—old tales used to ensure people were prepared to make their pact and not do so lightly. Despite this, the fear of him was ever-present when one thought of him.
He emanated such a powerful aura that left a lasting impression on one’s memories.
“Say nothing more; I understand what he must be feeling. I wonder which wraith will offer him a pact?” Reza inquired. It was always the first question that came to mind when someone made a new pact. What wraith would appear, and what powers would they grant?
“I hope it’s nothing better than our own. I couldn’t bear the thought of him acquiring a formidable pact with his first wraith.” Cain laughed, offering a quick prayer to the echoes. He touched a pendant hanging from his neck before swiftly creating a symbol in the air with his fingers.
Reza chuckled. He had been incredibly fortunate when Elana had chosen him. She had saved his life in countless battles and fights. He never considered breaking his pact for a different one. Many would if they didn’t get the desired wraith power, but it was risky. There were countless stories of people who failed to secure a new pact, while there were also stories of individuals who gained much more powerful pacts. No one could ever explain why someone succeeded or failed.
“Well, hopefully, your brother’s pact goes well, and he doesn’t get an artist or a cook. We could always use a few more soldiers with us.” Reza said, standing up on the stairs and adjusting his weapons.
“Of course, we should grab a drink or something before we both leave. I have two more days of leave. Do you?” He asked, holding his hand out. Reza grasped it and helped him to his feet.
“Another four. Then I’ll head back. Of course, I’ll stop by your family’s estate tomorrow, and we can have a drink. I can check out your brother’s wraith and wonder if we should be envious.” Reza said before leaving Cain on the stairs and returning to the crowd. He had only a few hours to train and enjoy his time in the city before Tavia expected him home.
However, Reza didn’t make it very far before the people around him began to panic and yell, pointing to the sky. Looking up, Reza noticed a shadow crossing over the forum from the west, completely darkening it for a moment before the light returned. Unable to comprehend what was causing the commotion in the midst of the uproar, Reza was prepared to summon his wraith.
“Look at the tower!” Someone shouted just behind him. Everyone turned to the tower, many of whom were now pointing towards it.
One of the nine black towers of the echoes circling the forum had gone dark. Everyone knew what that meant. One of the Archons was dead.
