The chamber pulsed with an unnatural energy, the sigil fragment casting warped shadows against the jagged stone walls. Sioux could feel it deep in their bones—a resonance, a hunger that wasn’t entirely their own. The masked figure stood still, their posture almost leisurely, as if they had all the time in the world. 

"You’ve come far," the stranger said, their voice reverberating through the chamber. "But you stand at the edge of something far greater than you understand." 

Sioux kept their grip firm on Bonnie, their pistol itching to be drawn. "Yeah? And what exactly is that?" 

The figure tilted their head, their mask catching the light. The reflective surface flickered, distorting momentarily—almost like a mirror shifting between faces. 

"The sigil is not just a mark of power," the stranger continued, stepping forward slowly. "It is a doorway. A lock and a key. A prison and an escape." 

Caedric moved subtly to Sioux’s side, his posture tense. "You’re talking in riddles. What does the sigil open?" 

The stranger laughed softly, the sound eerily melodic. "Not what, Caedric. Who." 

A cold weight settled in Sioux’s stomach. The sigil’s whispers grew louder, writhing against the inside of their skull. 

"I’ve felt its pull," Sioux admitted, their voice low. "It wants something from me." 

The figure nodded. "Because it recognizes you. You carry a fragment within you, whether you realize it or not. And it is waking up." 

The air thickened. Sioux felt a phantom pressure on their chest, a slow realization sinking in like poison. The sigil’s pull wasn’t just a connection. It was an invitation. 

"You know what the Bleeding Spire is, don’t you?" Caedric pressed, his hand hovering near his blade. 

The stranger finally stilled, their masked face tilting upward to the towering stone around them. "It is a tether. A place where the veil is weakest. A bridge between what is and what was meant to be." 

Sioux’s breath hitched. "A bridge to what?" 

"To the Forgotten." 

The moment the words left the stranger’s lips, the sigil fragment pulsed, sending a shockwave through the chamber. The glowing runes along the walls flared in unison, their twisted symbols shifting and rearranging like something alive. 

Sioux staggered, gripping the pedestal to steady themselves. Images flashed through their mind—dark shapes writhing in a sea of nothingness, eyes that burned like dying stars, voices that called out in a language they almost understood. 

"You’re lying," Sioux hissed, shaking their head to clear the vision. "This is just another power grab. Another secret cult trying to twist the sigil for themselves." 

The masked figure chuckled, a hollow sound. "You think this is about power? No. Power is fleeting. But what lies beyond the veil? That is eternal." 

Sioux exchanged a glance with Caedric. They had both seen enough to know that magic—true, ancient magic—never came without a cost. 

"You want to open it, don’t you?" Caedric said, his voice dark with realization. "You want to let them in." 

The stranger let out a slow, satisfied sigh. "Oh, dear Caedric. You always were the clever one." 

Sioux didn’t hesitate. In one fluid motion, they drew Bonnie and fired. The bullet streaked through the air—only to halt an inch before the stranger’s mask, frozen in place as if trapped in molasses. 

The stranger clicked their tongue in amusement, reaching up to pluck the bullet from midair. They turned it over in their fingers before letting it drop to the stone with a soft clink. 

"Violence is such a primitive solution," they mused. "But I’ll forgive the impulse." 

Sioux clenched their teeth, heart pounding. They had encountered magic before, but this? This was something else. 

"You won’t stop me," Sioux snarled. "You won’t use me." 

The masked figure took another step closer, the air between them thick with static. "I don’t need to use you, Sioux. The sigil already has." 

The whispers in Sioux’s mind crescendoed into a scream. Their vision blurred, the chamber flickering between reality and something else—a place where gravity twisted, where unseen hands reached from the dark, where the sky was cracked like glass. 

"Sioux!" Caedric’s voice broke through the haze, grounding them. They stumbled back, breath ragged. 

The masked figure sighed. "You’ll understand soon enough." They raised their hand, and the entire chamber shifted. 

The walls folded inward like pages of an ancient book, the stone warping and twisting. The pedestal cracked. The sigil fragment trembled. 

And then—darkness.