The road eastward twisted through cracked valleys and windswept cliffs, where the stones bore scars of battles long erased from memory. Arjun, Ayra, and Raaka followed the path in silence. The Empress’s parting words haunted them like shadows that refused to recede with light.

  Arjun turned the obsidian raven sigil in his palm. It was warm to the touch, pulsing faintly—as though alive. Since accepting it, he had felt echoes of other lives in his dreams. Whispers. Memories. A thousand reflections of himself caught between fate and defiance.

  The wind howled as they reached the plateau of Dhundhar Bazaar, a traveling marketplace built on ancient stones. Colorful tents flapped in the wind. Incense smoke drifted over booths. Merchants shouted in a dozen tongues, trading everything from desert crystals to void-bound artifacts.

  “Let’s split up,” Ayra suggested. “We need supplies, intel, and rest.”

  “Agreed,” said Arjun. “Stay within sight.”

  Raaka darted off toward the food stalls, eyes already locked onto a sizzling skewer of fire-roasted meat. Ayra vanished into the shadows near the alchemist’s quarter.

  Arjun wandered toward the heart of the bazaar, where a large crimson tent stood. Its entrance was flanked by twin statues—faceless figures with multiple arms, each holding a different mask.

  A low, melodic voice called to him. “Come, seeker of karma. Enter and see the truths you wear.”

  > [Karmic Pulse Detected: Mask Merchant – Spiritual Tier Unknown | Interaction Recommended]

  Arjun pushed aside the velvet curtain and stepped into the tent.

  Inside, a hundred masks lined the walls—stone, wood, metal, bone. Some wept. Some laughed. Some were featureless. And behind a circular table sat a figure draped in multicolored silks. No skin was visible—only the golden mask of a smiling man, its grin wide and unsettling.

  “You walk with the weight of lifetimes,” the figure said. “Yet your face is still your own. Curious.”

  “Who are you?” Arjun asked.

  The merchant bowed. “I am Kalvak, the Mask Maker. I sell truths. Faces. And fragments of forgotten souls. For a price.”

  Arjun looked around. “What do you mean by ‘truths’?”

  Kalvak motioned to the wall. “Each mask is a memory. A moment from another’s life. When worn, it shows you what they saw, felt, and feared. Sometimes, it gifts power. Other times, madness.”

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  He reached under the table and placed a dark wooden mask before Arjun. It was cracked, and a single teardrop had been etched below the left eye.

  “This one,” Kalvak said, “once belonged to a prince who killed his father to end a war. When you wear it, you will know his agony—and perhaps gain insight into your own.”

  Arjun frowned. “Why show me this?”

  Kalvak leaned in. “Because you are a mirror, Arjun of the Karmic Throne. And mirrors... attract reflections.”

  > [Item Acquired: Mask of the Broken Heir | Optional Usage – Dreamlink Memory Dive]

  Effect: Temporary access to the karmic resonance of another soul. Use with caution.

  Arjun reached out, but stopped. “What’s the price?”

  Kalvak tilted his head. “A memory. Not one you remember—but one hidden inside you. A piece of your past life. Small, but valuable.”

  Arjun hesitated. Then, slowly, he placed his fingers on the mask.

  A flash of silver flame.

  Pain behind his eyes.

  A corridor of blood-soaked banners… a scream… the feel of a throne burning beneath his palms.

  And then it was gone.

  Kalvak smiled beneath his golden mask. “A pleasure, your majesty.”

  Arjun stumbled back, breath ragged.

  “What did you see?” Kalvak asked gently.

  Arjun’s voice was low. “My hand. Setting fire to a sacred book. In another life. In another kingdom. And... she was there. The Empress. Younger. Crying.”

  Kalvak nodded. “The Karmic Throne is not a reward. It is a responsibility. Each piece you gather will challenge your soul.”

  The tent suddenly darkened.

  > [Alert: Malicious Aura Detected Nearby – Grade: Spirit-Tier Interference]

  Kalvak looked up sharply. “You’ve been followed. Not by men—but by watchers of karma. The ones who erase fatewalkers.”

  Outside, a scream tore through the bazaar.

  Raaka burst into the tent, a deep gash on his arm. “We’ve got company. Spirit Walkers. Three of them. They’re not human!”

  Ayra followed close, blades dripping with black blood. “They’re after Arjun. Again.”

  Kalvak stood, his hands weaving signs in the air. “I will stall them. But the Bazaar is no longer safe.”

  He pulled a white mask from the wall and pressed it to Arjun’s chest.

  “Take this. It hides you from beings that track through karma.”

  > [Item Gained: Mask of the Unseen Thread]

  Effect: Temporarily obscures user from karmic tracking. Duration: 1 hour.

  “Run,” Kalvak whispered. “Your next step lies beneath the Crimson Monastery. There, the Second Throne awaits.”

  Before Arjun could speak, the walls of the tent exploded inward.

  Figures stepped through the smoke—featureless beings wrapped in dark prayer cloth, their feet not touching the ground. Their mouths were sewn shut, but their presence screamed.

  > [Hostiles Identified: Spirit Walkers | Karma Purge Units | Rank: Unknown]

  Ayra moved first, blades flashing like moonlight.

  Raaka charged with a roar, swinging a mace wrapped in flame.

  Arjun turned, clutched the Mask of the Unseen Thread, and whispered, “Not this time.”

  He pressed it to his face.

  The world blinked.

  Time stuttered.

  The Spirit Walkers froze mid-step—as if confused.

  “Go!” Kalvak shouted.

  Arjun ran, Ayra and Raaka close behind. The bazaar burned around them, merchants screaming, tents collapsing.

  As they vanished into the canyon beyond Dhundhar, Arjun looked back.

  Kalvak stood among the ruins, arms raised, his golden mask catching firelight as the Spirit Walkers closed in.

  > [System Log Updated: Kalvak – Status: Unknown | Fate Thread Severed]

  Raaka panted. “We lost him.”

  Ayra shook her head. “No. He bought us time.”

  Arjun gripped the Mask of the Broken Heir.

  Beneath the mask’s crack, something shimmered. Not just power. Not just memory.

  A choice.

  And with it, a whisper from the Karmic Throne:

  “Will you wear the sins of others… to forgive your own?”