The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and lingering embers from last night's fire. Ryn stood atop the ridge, overlooking the vast expanse of the land before him. The weight of his dreams still clung to his mind, the vision of that lone figure stirring something deep within him.
The masked figure approached, his steps light but deliberate. "You are awake early."
Ryn turned to face him. "I don't have time to waste."
The figure studied him, then nodded. "Then it is time you learn what it means to walk the path of inscriptions."
Ryn's grip tightened around his palm. "Tell me everything."
They moved to a secluded clearing, where the ground was smooth and untouched by the elements. The masked figure gestured, and with a flick of his wrist, the air itself shimmered. Symbols, intricate and pulsating with unseen power, appeared before them.
"Inscriptions are the foundation of all things," the figure began. "To engrave is to impose one's will upon reality. It is not merely carving symbols into a surface—it is rewriting existence."
Ryn's gaze locked onto the floating symbols. "Then why was mine incomplete?"
The figure was silent for a long moment. "Because you are incomplete."
Ryn clenched his fists, but the masked figure continued. "An engraving must be stable, its components in harmony. But if the engraver is fractured, uncertain, or lacking... the inscription will reflect that."
"Then how do I complete it?" Ryn demanded.
The masked figure chuckled. "You don't. Not yet. First, you must refine what is already there."
He raised a hand, and the symbols condensed into a single mark, hovering in the air between them. "Refinement is the key to power. To force change upon an inscription is reckless. You must first understand its nature, its function, its limitations."
Ryn narrowed his eyes. "And how do I do that?"
The figure extended a finger, tapping Ryn's chest. "By understanding yourself."
The training began. At first, it was simple—tracing patterns, feeling the energy beneath the surface, recognizing the minute details that made an inscription whole. But as the lessons continued, the difficulty increased.
Every mistake caused the symbols to dissolve, their energy dissipating before they could take form. Every success left behind a faint imprint, a whisper of power embedded in the air.
Hours passed, then days. Ryn worked tirelessly, his mind consumed by the endless complexities of inscription. The masked figure remained a patient guide, offering correction when necessary, but never interfering too much.
It was during one such session that something changed.
Ryn traced a symbol into the ground, his fingers moving with newfound precision. As the final stroke settled into place, the air trembled.
The engraving pulsed, shifting and twisting. Then, without warning, it absorbed the surrounding inscriptions, pulling their essence into itself. The ground darkened, the symbol writhing as it reshaped itself into something entirely new.
The masked figure stiffened. "Impossible."
Ryn staggered back, his breathing ragged. The engraving on the ground moved, as though alive.
And then, a whisper—faint but unmistakable—brushed against his mind.
_"You are still incomplete."_
A shiver ran down Ryn's spine. He stared at the evolving inscription before him, realization dawning in his eyes.
He was changing.
And the path ahead was far from ordinary.
The whisper echoed through Ryn's mind, a voice neither loud nor forceful, yet it carried an undeniable weight. He felt its presence coil around his consciousness, like an unseen specter waiting in the shadows. His heartbeat quickened, his breath shallow as the living inscription pulsed before him, reshaping itself with eerie fluidity.
The masked figure took a cautious step forward, his posture rigid. "This… this is beyond natural engraving. You are altering the very nature of the symbols."
Ryn barely heard him. His mind was ensnared by the shifting lines, the way the inscription devoured the surrounding glyphs, absorbing them and changing in ways that should have been impossible. His fingers twitched, instinctively reaching out—but the masked figure's hand shot out, grabbing his wrist.
"Don't." The command was sharp, urgent. "If you touch it now, you may lose control entirely."
Ryn's gaze flickered to the figure. "Then what am I supposed to do? Let it consume everything?"
The masked figure's expression was unreadable beneath his covering, but his silence spoke volumes. The ground trembled beneath them as the evolving engraving released a faint hum, almost like a heartbeat. The symbols that once formed the stable foundation of Ryn's work were now twisted, chaotic.
And yet… it didn't feel wrong.
It felt natural.
Ryn took a slow breath. "I need to understand it."
The masked figure hesitated, then nodded. "Then we do it carefully."
They spent hours observing the inscription. Ryn studied every pulse, every shift in its shape. It wasn't just a collection of symbols anymore—it was alive, reacting to his presence, feeding on his intent. When he focused, the lines darkened and solidified. When his mind wavered, they blurred, threatening to unravel completely.
"Balance." The masked figure finally spoke. "You are forcing your will onto it, but you do not yet understand its will."
Ryn frowned. "You're saying it has a will?"
"All engravings do, in a way," the figure replied. "They follow rules, patterns. But this one… it is bound to you."
Ryn exhaled. He couldn't deny it. The way the inscription reacted—it wasn't random. It was responding to him.
And if that was true… then he could control it.
Closing his eyes, Ryn focused inward. He recalled the whisper, its presence curling within his mind. Instead of resisting, he listened.
_"Incomplete."_
His fingers twitched. What did it mean? What was missing?
Then it hit him.
He had been treating this engraving like any other. But it wasn't. It wasn't just a tool—it was something more. Something that needed a purpose.
His eyes snapped open, a spark of clarity igniting in his gaze. He moved, hands steady, tracing new lines into the inscription. The masked figure tensed but did not stop him. Ryn's strokes were confident, deliberate.
The moment he finished, the engraving froze.
Then, with a final pulse, it stabilized.
The surrounding glyphs ceased their collapse, the chaotic pull vanishing. What remained was something new—a refined, completed form.
Ryn exhaled, his entire body trembling. He met the masked figure's gaze.
"I've done it."
The figure studied the completed inscription, his voice quiet. "No… you've begun."
Somewhere deep in Ryn's mind, the whisper stirred once more.
And this time, it was silent… watching.