Irregular footsteps echoed through the cavern. A dry, muffled sound that bounced against the damp walls.

  Water dripped from the ceiling, drop after drop, always at the same steady rhythm. Each impact formed a dull plop in the puddle slowly spreading below.

  The man moved forward while gripping the rock. His fingers slipped on the cold stone. His black hair, sticky with sweat, clung to his temples. His breathing was ragged, too fast.

  Each step tore a groan from him.

  “What… is happening to me?”

  White flashes crossed his vision. At times, he saw nothing at all. A horrific pain tore at the back of his neck, as if something were trying to tear him away from behind.

  He reached the back of the cavern and collapsed there. His back struck the stone with a sharp sound.

  He folded in half as the nausea returned. His body convulsed without warning. He gripped his arm as if that could stop the pain from rising.

  “So this… is their Trial…”

  He turned violently to the side and vomited. Nothing dignified, nothing contained. Just a body giving out.

  His hands trembled. He wiped his mouth mechanically, then wiped the rest on the thick black fur covering his legs.

  He remained still for a few seconds, breath short, face twisted with pain.

  Then a sound.

  A footstep.

  Light. Regular.

  He lifted his head sharply. His gaze was blurred, but his instincts knew.

  Someone was approaching.

  “…Get the hell out,” he muttered, his voice broken.

  “And quickly…”

  He tried to stand. His legs gave out immediately. His knee struck the rock.

  The footsteps kept advancing.

  A hand appeared in the darkness. A slender, clean hand, out of place in a place like this.

  Then the entire silhouette. A man, tall, upright, dressed in an immaculate black-and-green suit, a cape resting on his shoulders.

  His face remained completely drowned in shadow.

  He watched the creature on the ground as one would observe a wounded animal.

  A brief laugh escaped him — dry, almost a breath.

  “Mphf… you look pitiful.”

  The man on the ground clenched his teeth. He glared at him with a dull hatred.

  “This is your fault I’m in this state. You had one job: make sure that bitch was alone in the canyon. And yet there were three of them. Her… some guy who killed me. Twice… and him.”

  Just thinking about that man made him shudder. A violent, almost animal tension ran through him.

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  “That bastard…”

  The elegant man burst into a more open laugh.

  “I see. Your body still remembers him.”

  He crouched slightly to observe the Overdrawn more closely, examining him like a broken object. Soft features. Irises and pupils completely black. A scar cutting across his cheek.

  “I admit this is partly my fault,” he said with a faint smile. “The servant I paid lacked efficiency. If she had been alone, you would have killed her without difficulty.”

  He gestured toward the Overdrawn with his chin.

  “You even took the boy’s appearance… He left quite the mark on you. Probably more convenient than being stuck in that beast’s body.”

  Then he added mockingly:

  “Though I would have paid dearly to see you trotting around on four legs, foam dripping from your mouth.”

  The Overdrawn tried to stand, but his legs immediately gave way. He collapsed onto his knees, muscles trembling.

  The elegant man watched him with distant pity.

  “What a state you’ve put yourself in… And since you adapted too well to that young Trame Bearer… you earned the right to undergo the Trial. An Overdrawn passing a Trial… well, I’ve seen everything now.”

  He sighed, almost wearily.

  “All this for a teenager… You’re really fixated on him.”

  He made a casual gesture with his finger.

  “When you’re done with your little show, come back. We have a plan waiting.”

  The Overdrawn spat, his voice hoarse.

  “Go fuck yourselves. Until I kill that piece of shit, your plans can rot.”

  The elegant man barely smiled.

  “What could possibly interest you about that boy?”

  The Overdrawn swayed. His breathing grew irregular.

  “He’s not normal… Something’s wrong with him. I felt it. Something visceral. I can’t explain it… He’s too clever. Moves without making a sound. And it’s because of him I couldn’t kill the girl.”

  Cracks of distortion flickered through the cavern. The man chuckled.

  “I’ll keep that in mind. Better to avoid ending up like you… hiding in a cave like a dying animal.”

  The Overdrawn ground his teeth, producing a harsh, unpleasant sound. In a sudden burst of strength, he lunged at the man.

  The other did not move.

  A fissure opened directly beneath the Overdrawn. He was swallowed instantly, without a cry.

  The man remained standing in the returning silence. He sketched a faint smile and turned to leave.

  But he took only two steps.

  A silhouette appeared before him, emerging from the shadows.

  A cape. A lowered hood.

  A female voice, very low, respectful, light as a whisper in the wind:

  “My lord… we have a problem.”

  The man stopped instantly.

  The hooded figure bowed slightly before him. Her voice was low, respectful, but tense.

  “The Ombrevu… the one who ended up with the princess…”

  She swallowed. Her hands trembled.

  The man let out a small laugh, almost amused.

  “Ah. I was just discussing him with Invidia. How… convenient.”

  The girl continued, her tone more nervous now.

  “He returned from his Trial, my lord…”

  “And?”

  She hesitated, searching for words.

  “He… appears to have received the Anointment of Doubt.”

  Silence.

  The man slowly raised a hand to his chin hidden in shadow.

  “Mmhhh… I understand Invidia better now. An interesting case indeed.”

  The girl lowered her head even further.

  “That’s not all…”

  He turned his head slightly toward her, motionless.

  “Speak.”

  “He possesses the Ladder, my lord.”

  The silence fell instantly.

  He froze.

  Not a single muscle moved.

  The entire cavern seemed to hold its breath. With a sharp crack, the bats clinging to the walls took flight all at once, torn free by instinctive panic.

  His hands trembled, almost imperceptibly. Not from fear — but from understanding. The brutal understanding of a secret he believed impossible.

  The lilting tone vanished, swallowed by silence.

  “…What did you say?”

  It was not a question. It was a suspended death sentence. The air thickened around them. Even the glow of the fissures seemed to retract, as if intimidated.

  The girl almost collapsed beneath her hood. Her voice trembled, her body too — not from cold, but from pure terror.

  Every syllable she was about to speak seemed to decide whether she would survive the next second.

  “The Indecisive possessed the Ladder… And for some unknown reason… he gave it to the Ombrevu.”

  The man did not react immediately. He remained upright, motionless, as though his thoughts had struck an invisible wall.

  Then a laugh rose — not an outburst, not mockery. A nervous laugh. Incredulous… almost broken.

  “The old fool… played me.”

  His tone had lost its singing quality. Lost all control.

  “We must join the others.”

  He turned his head slightly, the shadows still devouring his face.

  “If the Ladder has manifested… then the Axis will be reborn at its next transmission.”

  The girl nodded, her throat dry.

  “Yes, my lord.”

  A distortion in the air, a shiver of fracture — and they were gone.