Sovereign of the Forsaken Path

Ezra's grip tightened around the lantern, the dim blue flame casting flickering shadows across the chamber.

The hooded man stood motionless in front of the massive stone tablet, wrapped in heavy silver chains that shifted slightly, as if they were alive.

The way he spoke calm, but cold implied one thing.

This wasn't someone he could bullshit his way past.

Ezra cleared his throat. "So, uh… not to sound rude, but do you work here? Because if so, I'd like to file a complaint about the welcoming committee."

The hooded figure didn't react. He simply tilted his head slightly, as if studying him.

Then, in a low voice, he said:

"Ezra Nacht. A dead man walks."

Ezra stilled.

That tone. That phrasing.

The faceless ghost in the prison had said something similar.

"You were not meant to awaken, Forsaken One."

Ezra's jaw clenched. "You know me?"

The hooded figure's chains shifted again, the sound like metal scraping against bone. "I know what you were supposed to become."

Ezra inhaled sharply.

This was confirmation. The original Ezra Nacht the one whose body he now inhabited had been someone significant. Someone important enough that even the dead seemed to remember him.

And if there was one thing Ezra knew, it was this:

When people remembered you in a world like this, it was never a good thing.

He exhaled slowly, his mind whirling. "Right. So, you clearly have an advantage here. Any chance you'd be willing to share some context before I start making wild guesses?"

The hooded figure didn't answer immediately. Instead, he raised one chained hand and pointed at the massive stone tablet behind him.

Ezra followed his gaze.

The tablet was ancient, its surface covered in cracked inscriptions runes that seemed to shift subtly, as if alive.

At the center of it, a single phrase stood out, written in a language Ezra didn't recognize.

And yet

He could read it.

The words etched into his mind as though he had always known them.

"The Forsaken Path begins with a Name."

Ezra's breath hitched.

He had spoken his name back at the altar. And now, he had ended up here.

The hooded man lowered his arm, voice eerily soft. "A threshold has been crossed. You cannot go back."

Ezra's lips curled into a wry smirk, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah? That's kind of a recurring theme today."

Still, the implications were not funny at all.

If the hooded man was right if Ezra had unknowingly triggered something just by speaking his own name then…

What the hell had the original Ezra Nacht gotten himself into?

His gaze flickered back to the hooded man. "You mind telling me exactly what this 'Forsaken Path' is before I accidentally step on another landmine?"

The figure was silent for a long moment.

Then, his chains shuddered, rattling softly.

"The Path is not spoken of. It is only walked."

Ezra scowled. "Wow. Thanks. That was incredibly helpful."

Still, he had a gut feeling that even if he pried further, the man wouldn't give him more answers.

Instead, Ezra took a step forward. "Alright. Let's try a different question. If I can't go back, then where exactly do I go from here?"

The hooded man's gaze seemed to bore into him.

Then

The tablet behind him pulsed.

A deep, unnatural hum reverberated through the chamber, and the inscriptions on the stone shifted violently, twisting into something new.

Ezra's stomach dropped as he realized what was happening.

The tablet was responding to him.

The air thickened with an unseen weight.

And then

The inscriptions stopped shifting.

And in the center of the tablet, a new phrase had appeared.

A phrase that made Ezra's blood run cold.

"He who speaks the Forsaken Name shall take the First Sigil."

Ezra barely had time to process those words before something happened.

A searing pain erupted in his chest.

His entire body locked up, every nerve igniting with a sensation that felt like ice and fire merging into one.

He gasped, dropping to one knee as something crawled beneath his skin something ancient, something terrible.

It was like something was being carved into his very soul.

A Sigil.

Ezra's vision blurred, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He barely registered the hooded man's voice, distant but calm.

"You have been Marked."

Then, the pain spiked.

And everything went black.