The path to the Citadel was a river of ink, winding between jagged stone spires and floating islands suspended by the weight of forgotten words. Yūma could feel it — the oppressive weight of an unseen presence looming over them, a constant reminder of what lay ahead.
He had thought the Sanctum of the Nameless was dangerous, but the Citadel was something else entirely. It was the beating heart of the Inkborne Empire, a dark spire that touched the sky, casting a shadow that stretched across entire worlds.
The First Glimpse
As they neared the gates, a massive archway unfolded before them, wrought from obsidian and shimmering parchment. The walls hummed with a low, melodic hum — the sound of countless tomes, each recording the stories of those who had been erased.
Isha's eyes were narrowed, her lantern casting flickering shadows across her face. She hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward, her boots making no sound on the smooth, black ground.
"Welcome to the Citadel," she said softly, almost as if speaking to herself.
Kaelen snorted from behind them, his flame-touched hair flickering as he walked.
"If you think this is a 'welcome,' I'd hate to see what they do to the unwelcome."
Yūma's grip tightened around his Inkblade, the weight of the blade a reminder of the promise he'd made — of the path ahead. They were about to face the very institution that controlled the flow of ink, the ones who held the strings of fate itself.
The Inkborne Council
Inside the Citadel, the air grew thick with an ancient scent — a mix of burning paper and decaying memories. The walls were lined with scrolls and grimoire tomes, each one detailing the lives of those who had served the Council. Those whose names had been erased from existence.
As they walked deeper into the heart of the Citadel, they were met by the first of the Council's emissaries — Rhaelis, a tall figure with a face obscured by a mask made of ancient ink that shifted with every step he took.
"You are here because you have forgotten your place," Rhaelis said, his voice carrying a cold authority.
"You have broken the sacred Oath of Ink."
"And we're here to stop you," Kaelen spat, his fire flaring up momentarily. "You, and your dictatorship of ink."
Yūma felt a sharp pang of truth in Kaelen's words. The Council didn't just control the ink; they controlled the very memories of existence itself. They erased those who opposed them, rewriting their stories, erasing their names.
But the truth was darker still — the Council didn't just want to rewrite the stories of the world. They wanted to create them from scratch. Every living being, every Eidolon, every fate… controlled, edited, and rewritten by their whims.
The Inkborne Trials
Rhaelis smiled — or at least, Yūma thought he did beneath that mask.
"You've come for the Trials. You believe you can challenge the authority of the Inkborne Council? Perhaps you think you can win."
He leaned in, his voice a whisper of dread.
"But the price of victory is written in ink. And once it is written… it cannot be erased."
Kaelen's eyes burned with an unspoken rage.
"I'm not here to be erased."
"And I'm sure as hell not gonna let anyone else be erased either."
Rhaelis nodded slowly, the ink swirling around his fingers. With a snap of his wrist, the air around them thickened, and an oppressive presence filled the room. The trial had begun.
"Very well. Welcome to the Inkborne Trials."
The Trials Begin
The ground beneath their feet trembled, and the Citadel seemed to respond to the challenge, shifting and twisting in impossible ways. In a flash, they were no longer standing in the central hall — they were in an arena, surrounded by swirling black ink that formed monstrous shapes.
"You will face the Sentinels of Erasure, and each of you will be tested in a trial of your own fate."
Rhaelis' voice was barely audible, the shadows of the Citadel swallowing his words.
"Only those who pass will be granted the chance to rewrite their story. The rest... will be forgotten."
The ink began to swirl, forming a massive Sentinel, a creature made entirely of ink and paper. It was a hulking mass of swirling black pages, its eyes glowing with an unnatural light.
Kaelen stepped forward, his flames igniting in response.
"You think that thing's gonna scare us?"
He raised his hand, and a wave of fire surged forward, clashing against the Sentinel's ink shield.
"You're gonna need more than this."
Yūma could feel the power of the Inkborne Trials coursing through the air, the weight of the Citadel pressing in on him. His oath, his promise to Kaelen, felt heavier than ever.
The True Enemy
But as the battle raged on, something else began to stir in the shadows.
A voice, cold and ancient, echoed from the deepest corners of the Citadel.
"So, the ink-born think they can resist? The rebellion has begun... but the end of their story is already written."
The voice came from nowhere and everywhere — it was the voice of the Inkborne Council itself, but not just one of them. All of them.
Yūma's heart sank. The Council was more than just a group of elites — they were a collective consciousness, an entity that had existed for eons, bending the very fabric of reality to their will. They were the authors of the universe, and no one, not even Kaelen, could stand against them.
A Pact of Fire and Ink
Kaelen's flames flared as he fought, but it was clear they were only delaying the inevitable. The Sentinel was too strong.
"We need to do it together," Yūma said, his voice low.
"This isn't just about fighting them. We need to take their ink away — erase their control."
Kaelen nodded, a dangerous smile curling on his lips.
"If we burn this Citadel to the ground, we'll rewrite the world."
The two of them stood side by side, the air heavy with the weight of their pact. Together, they could do it. They could burn the ink that held the universe in its grip.
But to win, they would have to defy the very laws of reality.