Chapter 7
1977 Words
Still Inside The Society Hall A.K.A The Haven
The Haven was still buzzing. Conversations trembled in the echoing air like aftershocks from the rogue's outburst. The lingering scent of scorched aura stained the dome-shaped room, and the high glyph-laced ceiling glowed faintly in crimson, reacting to the tension below. The factions had withdrawn to their sections, whispering amongst themselves. Some were calm. Others agitated. The trial had ended, but peace had not returned.
Zayne Adeyemi stood awkwardly near the recruit bench, still processing the vision he'd seen during his glyph trial. His chest tightened. The image of Deji, fading behind a glyph barrier, the whispered betrayal, the rogue’s final words... it all tangled in his thoughts like barbed wire.
Riri was beside him, her hands balled into fists by her sides. Her eyes flicked across the hall, trying to read the mood. They weren’t left to wonder for long.
A tall man in a slate-colored coat stepped forward. Stern. Cold. A silver Vanta badge gleamed on his collar. Elder Koja.
"You brought him here," Koja began, his voice slicing through the murmurs. The attention in the hall pivoted instantly toward them.
Riri straightened. "He passed the trial. You saw it."
"Barely," said a Lucent faction rep, a woman with braided silver hair and fingers wrapped in glowing ink bands. "He lost control. He triggered a volatile glyph echo. You know what that means."
Riri's throat dried, but she held her ground. "He didn't *trigger* anything. That echo... it was residue from the rogue. It latched onto him. That's not on Zayne."
Koja tilted his head slightly. "You vouch for him like you once vouched for Deji."
The air snapped cold.
Even Zayne flinched. He hadn’t heard the name aloud in the Haven yet. Riri inhaled slowly, locking eyes with Koja.
"That’s low. Even for you."
"Then explain," Koja stepped forward, voice rising. "Why you broke protocol and smuggled a barely awakened sketch-tier into our inner sanctum? You of all people should know—"
"Because he needed someone to believe in him!" Riri’s voice thundered, startling even herself.
The dome stilled. The glyphs dimmed. Even Zayne looked at her, stunned.
Riri took a step forward, shoulders trembling. "You think we’re just machines for ink and emotion. That if someone doesn't fit your structure, they're a threat. But what about heart? What about compassion? You say this society exists to protect glyph artists. Then let it."
She turned to the hall. "Zayne has no one. His pain echoes through his glyphs, and instead of helping him understand it, you want to punish him for surviving it? I won't be silent. Not again."
Silence pressed in. The elders exchanged glances. Some surprised. Others disapproving. A few, impressed.
Koja's eyes narrowed. "You sound like Deji before he fell."
Riri lifted her chin. "Then maybe Deji was right."
Koja stiffened. That was enough. He turned without another word.
The hall slowly returned to its murmuring hum. But something had shifted. In Zayne. In Riri. Even in the air.
Zayne reached for Riri's hand, quietly. She looked down, startled by the gesture, then let out a small smile and nodded. They walked toward the exit.
As they passed the barrier arch, heading back into the night, the final glyphs in the dome flickered and dimmed. But one... one remained lit.
It glowed a deep violet.
And it pulsed like a heartbeat.
**************************************
The underground halls of The Haven had finally gone silent. The aftershocks of the intruder’s swift takedown had stirred more questions than answers. Conversations buzzed in hushed tones among the factions, but as the crowd slowly thinned out, Zayne and Riri were ushered toward the exit by a quiet staff member who gave them a nod of recognition.
The world above greeted them with damp night air and the sharp hum of silence that always followed chaos.
Zayne walked in silence, the sketchbook tight under his arm. He had kept it closed ever since the intruder arrived, ever since the trial ended. It pulsed sometimes—softly, like a heartbeat. He didn’t want to look. Not yet.
Riri finally broke the silence. “That was crazy back there.”
Zayne nodded slowly. “Yeah.”
“I mean, glyph dueling isn’t supposed to be that fast. He wasn’t even armed.” She kicked a stray pebble. “They say unarmed glyph users are the most dangerous. Because they’ve mastered the ink.”
“Do you think he was part of a rogue faction?” Zayne asked.
“Maybe. Or worse... someone who used to be one of us.”
They walked for another block, passing shuttered stores and dark alleys until the silhouette of their school loomed ahead. Riri glanced at Zayne’s face.
“You okay?”
“I don’t know,” he answered. “That trial—it didn’t feel like a test. It felt like a warning.”
She didn’t respond. They walked the rest of the way in silence.
Back in his dorm room, long after Riri had returned to hers, Zayne sat at his desk, sketchbook in front of him. His fingers hovered over the cover. He had tried to sleep, but the glyphs wouldn’t stop whispering at the edge of his hearing. Soft, unintelligible. Like the hum of ink on paper.
He opened it.
The page was blank at first.
Then, ink poured in, not from his pen—but from somewhere deeper. Shapes took form. A door. A handprint. A cracked mirror.
Zayne blinked. His hand reached for the sketchbook involuntarily. The room dimmed. His vision blurred.
And then he was no longer in his room.
He stood in a dark chamber, silent and cold, lit only by floating glyphs that shimmered in the air like fireflies. In the center, chained to a fractured pillar, was Deji. Not a memory. Not a dream. This felt real.
Deji raised his head slowly. “You’re late.”
Zayne tried to speak, but no words came. His limbs wouldn’t move.
Deji’s eyes glowed faintly. “They know you have it now. The sketchbook. That’s why he came.”
Zayne wanted to ask who. How. Why.
Deji seemed to hear him anyway. “It’s not just ink anymore. It’s memory. Yours. Mine. Ours.” He coughed. “Tell her I didn’t forget.”
Then came the scream.
Zayne was yanked back, slammed into his chair. His eyes flew open, gasping. The page in the sketchbook was still glowing, but fading fast. One thing remained:
A name.
“BANE.”
Zayne stared at it. The letters were sharp, stained in red ink. Beneath it, a symbol: a circle broken into four, one quadrant scribbled out violently.
He didn’t know what it meant.
But he knew it was next.
He snapped the sketchbook shut and hid it under his bed just as dawn crept through the curtains.
And still, he said nothing.
Not even to Riri.
𝗡𝗘𝗨𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗟 𝗣𝗢𝗩
The morning light leaked into Zayne Adeyemi’s dorm like a hesitant secret.
His eyes blinked open to the same low-frequency hum that had become his unwanted morning ritual. The sketchbook hovered stubbornly near his head again, pulsing with that soft purple-black haze. Always when he least wanted it—before class, before breakfast, before brushing his teeth—it chose its moments.
“Bro, why?” he groaned, pulling the pillow over his face.
The book buzzed louder, like an impatient drone.
Zayne sighed, tossing the blanket aside. He reached out and snatched the floating book mid-air, feeling its usual warmth seep into his fingers. The hum calmed immediately, replaced by a subtle vibration in his wrist.
The pages flipped themselves open.
> > > > > > > > QUEST COMPLETED: FIRST INTENTIONAL GLYPH CREATION
REWARD AVAILABLE: CLAIM (Tap to receive)
Zayne stared at the interface, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. He wasn’t dreaming.
His heart kicked against his chest as he pressed his finger to the glowing glyph-shaped claim button.
A rush of energy shot through him—not painful, but sharp and thrilling. His right forearm tingled. His eyes immediately darted to the old glyph tattoo beneath his skin, the one he’d received during his first trial at The Haven. It lit up faintly, like veins of purple electricity had just woken from sleep.
The tattoo faded again, but not completely. In certain angles, close enough to his eyes, the ink shimmered beneath his skin like a second heartbeat. It was a reminder: the countdown to his old life had started the night of that trial. This wasn’t a game anymore.
The sketchbook pages flipped again.
> > > > > > > > ARTIST STATS 𝗨𝗡𝗟𝗢𝗖𝗞𝗘𝗗...
Zayne held his breath as the familiar glyphic interface morphed into something new. Ten distinct stat bars appeared on the page, pulsing softly.
> > > > > > > > VOID: 5%
(Controls mental clarity, focus, mind stability for glyph casting. Prevents accidental leaks of aura or overthinking loops.)
> > > > > > > > AURA: 5%
(The raw energy reservoir for glyphs, shielding, and aura-based moves.)
> > > > > > > > PHY STRENGTH: 10%
(Physical power output. Useful for glyph combat, glyph weapons, and direct strikes.)
> > > > > > > > PHY AGILITY: 10%
(Speed, dodging reflexes, evasion against glyph attacks.)
> > > > > > > > PHY STAMINA: 10%
(How long you can cast glyphs or channel aura before fatigue.)
> > > > > > > > INK XP: 5%
(Overall glyph experience. Unlocks new categories of glyphs as you grow.)
> > > > > > > > GLYPH TIER: VEIL
(Entry tier. Locked to basic glyph types and defensive sketches.)
> > > > > > > > AURA CONTROL: 5%
(Precision in aura flow. Controls leaks and accidental bursts.)
> > > > > > > > GLYPH MEMORY: 5%
(Limits how many glyphs can be stored mentally for instant recall.)
> > > > > > > > MENTAL SYNC: 5%
(The connection between mind, glyph flow, and physical reflex.)
Zayne exhaled slowly. His stats were trash. But at least now he could see the path ahead of him.
At the bottom of the page, another glowing section appeared.
> > > > > > > > REWARD: +5 STAT POINTS
A chill crawled down his spine.
The book offered options now.
> > > > > > > > DISTRIBUTE STAT POINTS
VOID [+]
AURA [+]
PHY STRENGTH [+]
PHY AGILITY [+]
PHY STAMINA [+]
INK XP [+]
AURA CONTROL [+]
GLYPH MEMORY [+]
MENTAL SYNC [+]
Zayne scratched his head, thinking. Five points wasn’t much, but they mattered.
He tapped:
+1 to Void (he needed better mental control—too many intrusive thoughts lately)
+1 to Aura (his aura flickered too much in his sleep, and he didn’t want any more accidental glyph leaks)
+1 to Ink XP (he was still a noob, no point pretending otherwise)
+1 to Aura Control (last time his aura spiked, Riri had noticed. No more slip-ups.)
+1 to Glyph Memory (he wanted to remember more glyphs without flipping through pages every second)
> > > > > > > > POINTS DISTRIBUTED. NEW STATS UPDATED.
Zayne closed the book slowly, his heart settling but his mind racing.
This was real. This was permanent.
His stats weren’t just numbers. They were now the framework of his life. His normal school routine—the lectures, the annoying cafeteria lines, even moments with Amara and Riri—was officially running on borrowed time.
He pick
ed up his toothbrush, finally heading toward the bathroom mirror.
As he passed by, he caught sight of his reflection. The faint glyph lines still shimmered beneath his skin like ghost veins.
Zayne Adeyemi, college kid?
Nah.
That title had already expired.
- Writer
