Ryn's mind swirled with questions, but the Silent Observer had already turned away, his robe flowing behind him as he moved toward the chamber's exit.
"Wait," Ryn called after him, his voice firmer than he expected. "You spoke of the engravings acknowledging me. What does that mean?"
The Observer paused, his head tilting slightly, as if considering whether to answer. "It means that the past does not view you as a mere spectator. You are no longer just an inheritor of inscriptions—you have become a part of their unfolding story."
Ryn frowned. "You're saying… the engravings are alive?"
The Observer turned to face him again, a faint smile gracing his lips. "Not in the way you understand life. But everything that is written, everything that is carved, carries intent. And intent does not vanish so easily."
A chill ran through Ryn. He thought back to the vision—the city, the figures covered in inscriptions, the voice that had asked him who he was. Had that been merely an illusion? Or something far more real?
The masked figure spoke for the first time since the Observer had entered. "You are treading a path that many have feared to walk. Few can hear the echoes left behind. Even fewer survive what follows."
Ryn exhaled sharply. "Then I'll make sure I'm one of the few."
The Observer chuckled. "Confidence alone will not protect you, but it is a start." His eyes darkened. "You are not the only one who seeks to understand the engravings, Ryn. There are others—some who would use this knowledge to uplift, and others who would see it drowned in blood."
Ryn stiffened. "Who?"
The Observer shook his head. "You will know soon enough."
With that, he turned once more and disappeared into the darkness of the corridor.
The chamber was silent again. The masked figure turned to Ryn. "You should rest. Tomorrow, we test your endurance with inscriptions far more dangerous than before."
Ryn clenched his fists. The mysteries surrounding the engravings were deepening, but one thing was clear—he was no longer just an observer in this world. He was being watched, tested, and perhaps even guided toward something far beyond his comprehension.
He just had to make sure he survived long enough to understand it.
Ryn awoke to the scent of smoldering ink and the distant hum of power vibrating through the stone walls. He had barely slept, his mind restless with the cryptic words of the Silent Observer. The engravings had acknowledged him. The past was watching. But why?
He pushed himself up, rubbing his temples. No matter the answer, the path forward was clear—he had to grow stronger.
The masked figure awaited him outside the chamber, standing before a vast circular hall lined with towering pillars, each etched with intricate symbols that pulsed faintly. The sight made Ryn's breath catch; he had never seen such detailed engravings before.
"The next stage begins here," the masked figure said. "You have inscribed glyphs under guidance, but today, you will engrave against resistance."
Ryn frowned. "Resistance?"
The figure gestured toward the nearest pillar. "Every inscription has intent. Some resist being shaped. Others fight back."
A sense of foreboding settled over Ryn. He stepped forward, examining the swirling carvings on the pillar's surface. They seemed to shift under his gaze, warping and twisting in ways that defied logic. His fingers twitched—was it an illusion? Or something more?
"You must impose your will upon the engraving," the masked figure continued. "Fail, and it will consume your inscription, along with a portion of you."
Ryn swallowed hard. He had seen what unstable engravings could do. Scribes who lost control often paid the price in blood. But fear was a luxury he couldn't afford.
He steadied his breathing, raised his hand, and let his inscription tool hover over the shifting symbols. Carefully, he traced the first stroke, carving his intent into the stubborn surface.
The pillar reacted immediately.
A tremor surged through the stone, and Ryn felt a force pressing back against his engraving. A sharp pain lanced through his fingers, as if the symbols themselves were resisting his touch.
Gritting his teeth, he pushed forward, forcing the lines into place. The glyph fought against him, distorting and unraveling with every stroke. But he didn't stop. He poured his will into the engraving, reshaping its resistance into something new, something his.
Sweat dripped down his brow. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. Then, just as the pressure became unbearable—
The glyph yielded.
The engraved pillar pulsed once, its shifting patterns stabilizing. A faint hum resonated from the stone, a sound that seemed almost… approving.
Ryn exhaled sharply, barely realizing he had been holding his breath. His arm trembled from exertion, but a sense of triumph burned in his chest.
The masked figure nodded. "Good. You are beginning to understand."
Ryn flexed his fingers, feeling the residual sting of resistance. If this was only the start of engraving against resistance, then he had a long road ahead. But he had taken the first step.
And he would take many more.
The resonance of the stabilized glyph still echoed in Ryn's mind as he stepped back from the pillar, his fingers aching from the strain. The masked figure regarded him for a long moment before speaking.
"Engraving is more than carving symbols into stone or binding them to objects. It is the act of imposing your will upon the world," the figure said, his voice calm but firm. "Some engravings resist not because they are unwilling, but because they test those who would shape them."
Ryn nodded, still catching his breath. He could feel the remnants of resistance lingering in his fingertips, the sensation like a phantom pain that refused to fade. The power within the glyph had fought against him, but he had won—if only barely.
The masked figure motioned for him to follow. "There is more for you to learn."
They moved deeper into the circular hall, past rows of pillars inscribed with glyphs of varying complexity. Some pulsed with a quiet energy, while others seemed inert, waiting to be awakened. Ryn's gaze flickered across them, curiosity gnawing at his thoughts. What secrets did they hold? What knowledge had been inscribed into their surfaces over the years?
They stopped before a vast stone wall, its surface blank. The masked figure gestured toward it. "Here, you will inscribe something of your own creation. No guides, no predefined glyphs. Only your intent."
Ryn's pulse quickened. To create his own inscription? He had barely begun to understand the mechanics behind existing engravings. But doubt was a weakness he could not afford.
He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes for a moment. Then, raising his hand, he let his fingers brush against the stone. The surface was cool, unyielding—an empty canvas awaiting its first stroke.
His mind raced through the engravings he had studied. He recalled the flow of energy, the balance of intent, the struggle of imposing one's will. Then, slowly, he began.
His strokes were deliberate, precise. A pattern formed beneath his touch—lines intertwining, curving, locking into place. The stone resisted at first, as it had with the pillar, but he was ready this time. He poured his concentration into every movement, forcing the resistance to bend, to accept his mark.
The air around him stirred. A faint hum resonated from the stone. The masked figure remained silent, watching intently as Ryn worked.
Then, a pulse.
A shockwave rippled outward, causing the surrounding glyphs to flicker. Ryn staggered, his breath catching in his throat. The engraving he had carved glowed faintly, its lines still shifting as if alive.
The masked figure stepped forward. "You have done well."
Ryn stared at the inscription, feeling an odd connection to it. He had not merely written symbols—he had left behind a part of himself. A will made tangible.
The masked figure turned to him. "This is only the beginning. There are forces in this world that seek to unmake what is written, just as there are those who seek to inscribe their own truths upon existence. You must decide which you will be."
Ryn exhaled slowly. He had chosen his path the moment he first touched the engravings. There was no turning back now.
He would carve his own destiny.
*********
Extra chapter in a few moments.
Thank you for reading my novel so far.
Enjoy.