Chapter 223: Chapter 223: Into the Graveyard
The fracture screamed like a wound torn open across reality, and Keller did not hesitate. He threw himself in first, body twisting into the darkness, gun clutched uselessly against his chest.
Hwan followed, teeth gritted, palms slick with sweat. Every instinct screamed at him to stop, to cling to the safety of the ruined plaza above, but he leapt anyway. He couldn’t abandon Lin—not when the boy’s breath had carried the weight of everything they had endured together.
The descent was unlike falling. It was like sinking, dragged through layers of black water that were not water at all. Every heartbeat was amplified, every exhale fractured into echoes. Keller’s training told him to control his breathing, but even that betrayed him here; every breath seemed stolen, as though the abyss had to approve each inhale.
Then—impact.
They hit ground that wasn’t ground. A vast plain stretched out in every direction, built not of soil or stone but of colossal bones, the ribs and skulls of titanic things that had long since rotted to fossil. The air shimmered with resonance, the atmosphere thick like smoke and iron.
And there—at the center of that skeletal graveyard—was Lin.
He knelt before the Throne of Chains, his body wracked with spasms as links of living metal tore out of his flesh and arced toward the seat. Min-joon clung to him, arms locked around Lin’s shoulders, whispering over and over, words too soft for Keller to hear. Each word seemed to anchor Lin, but barely; his face was ashen, eyes bloodshot, veins black with resonance burn.
And above them both, descending like the weight of a collapsing sky, was the envoy.
It had abandoned its humanlike silhouette. Now its form stretched tall and thin, a lattice of shadow and chains woven into the vague suggestion of a figure. Its "face" was nothing more than a mask of bone split down the middle, with black light seeping out. Each step it took rattled the graveyard, bones collapsing inward as though dragged toward the throne.
Keller cursed under his breath, snapping his rifle up and firing three controlled bursts. The rounds flew true—but dissolved midair, shredded into metallic dust before they could reach the envoy.
"Of course," Keller muttered, already switching clips, not because he thought bullets would work, but because the action gave his hands something to do.
Hwan stood frozen, chest heaving. His eyes were locked on Lin, on the sight of those living chains tearing his body apart. "He’s—he’s dying," Hwan whispered. "The abyss is eating him alive."
"Then help him," Keller snapped, shoving the boy forward. "Don’t just stand there—go!"
Hwan stumbled, then forced his feet to move. He scrambled over a ridge of ribs and dropped down beside Lin and Min-joon. His hands shook, useless at first, until he forced them to still by sheer will. He pressed them against Lin’s side, trying to stanch blood that wasn’t blood—thick, black resonance seeping out like tar.
Min-joon looked up, sweat streaking his face. His voice was hoarse from screaming. "You shouldn’t be here."
"Neither should you," Keller barked back, striding closer, rifle still raised though it was as worthless as a stick.
The envoy tilted its mask, black light flaring. When it spoke, the sound bypassed ears, sinking directly into skulls.
"Four threads, bound by defiance. Do you think unity will spare him? Do you think love can chain the abyss?"
Lin shuddered violently. His eyes fluttered open, and for a heartbeat Keller saw someone else behind them. Not Lin—something vaster, colder, older. The abyss itself peering through the boy’s gaze.
"No," Lin rasped, his voice shredded. "I’m not yours."
The envoy descended another step. Chains rattled loose from its limbs and lashed outward, embedding themselves in the bones around them. The entire graveyard shifted, skulls turning as though listening, ribs bending inward like prison bars.
Min-joon tightened his hold, pressing his forehead against Lin’s. "Stay with me, Lin. Look at me. Not it—me."
Lin’s jaw clenched, his body arching against the pull of the chains. The sound he made was half-growl, half-scream.
Keller opened fire again, each shot a futile burst of defiance. The envoy didn’t even turn its head, but one of the loose chains whipped outward, slamming into the ground inches from Keller’s feet. The impact blasted shards of bone into the air, one slicing across his cheek.
Still, Keller stood his ground. "Yeah, that’s right—look at me. Not so untouchable when someone spits in your face, huh?"
The envoy’s mask turned toward him now. The black light behind its fracture blazed hotter.
"You are noise. Disposable."
"Story of my life," Keller shot back, reloading. His hands were steady now, not because he believed he could win, but because the alternative was lying down and waiting to die.
Beside Lin, Hwan squeezed his eyes shut. His body trembled, but he pressed harder against Lin’s wounds, ignoring the resonance that burned his palms raw. "I’m not strong like you," he whispered, voice breaking. "I can’t fight it. But I can stay. I can stay right here."
For the first time, Lin’s trembling eased. Just a fraction. Enough to draw another breath.
The envoy halted, its mask tilting again, as though studying them.
"Four hearts against the abyss. Interesting. Pathetic... yet persistent."
The chains it had anchored into the graveyard pulsed, and the entire plain groaned. Bones shifted, collapsing into one another, forming spirals that led toward the throne. The throne itself rose higher, chains uncoiling like serpents, crowning the air above Lin.
"If he resists, he will break. If he yields, he will reign. There is no third path."
Lin forced his head up, blood running from his lips. "I’ll make one."
The envoy’s voice cut like razors: "Then die trying."
The throne’s crown began to descend, chains reaching for Lin’s skull, ready to encircle it. Min-joon’s scream tore through the graveyard, raw and human. Keller fired until his rifle clicked empty, then hurled it aside and drew his knife. Hwan wept openly, his tears sizzling against Lin’s resonance-burned skin as he refused to pull his hands away.
And then—
The envoy’s mask cracked.
Just a fracture, running down the bone plate. But through it, for the first time, something else was visible.
Not abyss. Not shadow.
A face.
Half-human. Pale skin, an eye like Lin’s own but hollowed of light, staring back at them with a terrible familiarity.
Keller’s stomach dropped. Min-joon froze mid-scream. Hwan’s breath hitched in his throat.
And Lin—Lin’s chains writhed violently, like hounds recognizing their master.
The envoy’s broken mask smiled with half a mouth.
"Haven’t you wondered, child? Why the abyss chose you?"
The graveyard shuddered as the crown descended lower.
"Because you were mine long before you were ever yours."