Lenny moved like a shadow, low and fluid, his footwork precise. He struck with the efficiency of a predator with no wasted motion.
Rhys barely managed to sidestep the first blow, an attack aimed at his throat, but his balance was off — his missing arm threw him off-centre. His heart pounded. He gritted his teeth and backpedalled, his boots skidding against the stone.
He yanked the obsidian spike tucked at his waist and slashed upward, aiming for Lenny's torso.
Lenny shifted effortlessly, twisting just enough for the makeshift blade to slice through the air. Before Rhys could pull back, a sharp impact slammed into his ribs. Pain shot through his body as he staggered backwards.
'Is this kid really trying to eat me?!'
But this wasn't the time to be thinking.
Lenny was relentless. Before Rhys could regain his footing, another strike came, this time at his leg. His knee buckled.
Rhys crashed to the ground, rolling quickly to avoid the next attack. He scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could to prepare for the next strike. Sensing a strike coming for his neck again, he barely got his weapon up in time to block it. The impact sent a shock through his arm, nearly knocking the spike from his grasp.
He countered with a desperate thrust towards Lenny's abdomen, but his opponent was too quick, sidestepping it with ease.
Then, a blur — Lenny ducked low and swept Rhys's legs out from under him, and before he fell to the ground, Lenny connected a punch that sent him flying out the cave.
Rhys hit the ground hard, his breath exploding from his lungs. The obsidian spike fell from his grip and the medical pouch he had been carrying flew to the side, landing with a loud crashing sound.
He tried reaching for it, but Lenny was faster.
A crushing weight pinned Rhys' chest, an iron grip tightening around his throat. He gasped, struggling, his hand clawing at Lenny's arm, but he didn't flinch. Lenny's cold eyes, now glowing blue, along with the tattoo, looked unaffected as if he was merely completing a necessary task.
The edges of Rhys' vision darkened. His legs kicked weakly, his body screamed for air.
Then—
A cacophony of voices could be heard, lamenting and crying in pain, accompanied by the sound of violently crashing waves. The same waters that pulled Rhys away in his nightmare were barrelling towards him, but given his current predicament they were a welcome relief.
Shadows fell on the ruthless kid's face as confusion settled in.
Lenny loosed his grip on Rhys and opened his mouth.
"Are you… being summoned for your trial?"
It seemed he also did not understand what was happening.
While Rhys was coughing and gasping for air he felt a pull. Then something wretched him from the moment. The Abyss shattered around him like glass, and before he could comprehend what was going on…
Rhys was gone. And only a calm voice lingered from Lenny.
"Make sure to come back alive."
***
There was no sound when he crossed over.
Only the lingering echoes of Lenny's eerily calm voice ringed in his head.
Next, Rhys heard the slow cracking of reality, like glass being shattered in reverse.
The familiar strange sensation of aimlessly floating in nothingness returned. Then came the silence. It was thick, absolute, and heavy.
Except this time, in that silence — there was a heartbeat.
But, it was not his own.
It thudded through the nothingness like a war drum underwater, slow and patient. As if whatever it belonged to had no urgency. As if it had all the time in the world.
Rhys continued to float. Not in there air, because there was no sky. Not in water, because there was no weight.
He existed in a space that defied all direction. No up. No down. Just the void, stretching and folding in on itself like a dream that refused to settle.
And then—
The light returned.
First, as a pulse beneath his feet. Then, as veins of silver and violet threading through the black. They slithered outward, forming patterns beneath him like the roots of some colossal, unseen tree.
A floor coalesced from the darkness, the same polished obsidian that had greeted him once before. He dropped onto it with a gasp, knees hitting hard, hand scraping across the smooth surface. Rhys coughed, clutching his chest. The crushing grip around his throat was no more, but he still felt its lingering effects.
'Looks like I'm back here, guess I should be thankful?'
Just then…
The Whispers returned.
But they were different now. No longer just noise or static pressed against his sanity, now, he could understand them. They still spoke in the same ancient tongue, but Rhys could grasp the meaning, like they were being filtered through a translator.
[She delights in your return.]
'She? Who's she?'
The voice was inside his mind, but not like thought. It pressed into him from every angle, curling around his bones and nerves like smoke. It sounded… plural. Like many voices stacked together, almost in sync.
[Have you chosen to return?]
Rhys swallowed. His throat still burned, but he forced himself to rise. The obsidian surface rippled with every step, reflecting his movement in fractured echoes.
And then — the doors returned.
Dozens of them, rising from the black floor like ancient Roman monuments.
Some looked ancient, carved from stone or rusted metal, bound with glyphs or ivy. Others were impossible — flickering holographic gates, doors made of bone, one formed entirely of glowing symbols that hovered in a ring. Some were just as mundane as the door that led him to 'The Abyss.'
But only one drew his eye.
The one he'd seen before.
Tall. Framed in silver-black wood. Etched with runes that shimmered faintly with violet light. The inscription burned again across its centre like a whisper etched in flame:
"For The One Who Returns."
His pulse quickened.
Rhys approached — not fast, but steady. Step by step. His feet made no sound on the glass-dark floor. His breath came in short, uncertain huffs. The air smelled faintly of ozone and something ancient — like dust from a sealed tomb.
The Whispers grew louder.
[Child of Eshe.]
[Return, and complete your Trial.]
'Why do you keep saying return? Return where? And who or what is Eshe!?'
[She awaits your Return.]
Rhys clenched his jaw.
'Return where exactly, to the real world?'
The Whispers though, kept repeating the same thing over and over again, pushing Rhys to the edge of insanity again.
[She awaits your Return.]
'So, I finally hear what you're saying. Only to confuse me some more, is that it?'
[Child of Eshe.]
[She awaits your Return.]
'Okay, fine!'
Rhys marched furiously towards the tall, regal looking door. He stared at the door. His hand hovered near the latch.
"So this is it?" he muttered. "My real Trial?"
The Whispers coiled around him like smoke in water.
[Child of Eshe.]
He froze.
[She awaits your Return.]
Rhys stepped back. He had to get his thoughts in order before making any hasty decisions. He guessed that the 'She' the Whispered referred to was this 'Eshe'. But still, it's not like that helped his understanding at all. Was Eshe some kind of god? Or was it a force of nature of some kind? Although, nothing was natural about this whole situation.
Is this what every Revenant went through for their trial? These doors? Somehow, Rhys doubted that was the case.
The questions hung in the air. Clearly, they were not going to be answered. For now, at least.
The door shimmered.
Rhys looked down at his arm — and the markings were back. Brighter now. Burning softly with crimson and violet light. No longer just lines and curves — now they formed a shape. A spiral converging around a central point on his forearm, like an eye half-open.
'I didn't choose this,' he said, softly.
The Whispers did not respond for a long time.
Then:
[Eshe chose all her Children.]
'All her children. Did that mean Revenants? Is this Eshe somehow connected to all the Anomalies?'
The Whispers went silent. Almost like they had said something they shouldn't have.
Ignoring that detail, Rhys stepped closer to the door. The runes along its frame pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat. He reached out, hand trembling.
Rhys exhaled. Keeping his breadth slow and deliberate.
He thought of the subway.
The Reaper.
The girl with the coloured braids, whose name he never got.
…And of course, his reason for all this. The Benefactor.
Rhys' lips curled into a dry, humourless smile.
'It's not like I can turn back now.'
He grabbed the handle.
The moment his skin touched it, the world screamed.
The Whispers surged, louder than they had ever been — an ocean of sound pouring through the cracks of his mind. Symbols flared across the door frame. The runes etched into the floor beneath him spiralled outward, forming a vast, glowing seal that radiated heat and light.
His body lifted from the floor — not of his own will.
The door cracked open.
White-gold light poured from the seam, but not like sunlight. It was deeper. Denser. As if knowledge had a glow. As if memory could burn.
And through that gap, he felt it again.
An omniscient presence. Something watched him from beyond the door.
Rhys couldn't pick up any emotion from it. It was just…waiting.
The Whispers sang in his head again:
[Child of Eshe.]
[She rejoices.]
Rhys stepped forward, and the light swallowed him whole.