“Let me know if there’s anything else you need!” the vendor called out, his voice carrying a thin veneer of charm that Ariadne Vey immediately distrusted.
She glanced back at him briefly, her striking green eyes reflecting the faint glow of neon spilling through the open doorway. “I’m fine,” she replied curtly, stepping onto the rain-slicked pavement with the faint weight of her weapon holstered beneath her tailored black leather jacket. Ariadne wasn’t here for niceties; she was here to finish what had begun five years ago.
The city loomed around her like an iron cage, its skyscrapers wrapped in creeping ivy and pulsating LED displays. Her boots struck the ground with sharp precision, a sound almost lost in the whisper of the night rain. With every step, she felt the cold metal of her surroundings echo against the fire simmering in her veins.
The city of Lumea had its secrets—dark and ancient truths whispered through alleyways, hidden in the cracks of cobblestones, and etched into the skyline’s neon haze. Ariadne Vey had spent her entire life trying to stay ahead of those whispers, weaving a delicate balance between the mundane and the extraordinary. But tonight, the city wasn’t whispering. It was screaming.
Her boots struck the rain-slick pavement as she navigated the labyrinthine streets, the sound drowned by the distant hum of maglev trains overhead. Ariadne’s coat flared behind her like a shadow as she moved, her green eyes reflecting the fractured light of neon signs. She clenched the note in her gloved hand, the creased paper damp from the drizzle. She read it one more time, as if the words might somehow change.
“They’ve found the Vessel. It’s time.”
The message had come two nights ago, and despite her resistance, Ariadne couldn’t ignore it. The symbol stamped in red wax—the crescent moon cradling a star—was a relic of her family’s past. Her mother had always warned her: “When you see this mark again, you’ll have to decide who you are.”
Ariadne had scoffed at the idea then. Decide who she was? She already knew. She was a survivor. A skeptic. A loner. Yet here she was, chasing ghosts through the alleys of a city that had no patience for indecision.
She paused at the corner of Ashford and Tithe, her gaze fixed on the warm glow of the cafe. It looked ordinary enough—a sanctuary for night owls and weary souls. But Ariadne knew better. She could feel the energy radiating from it, a faint vibration that made the air taste metallic.
She stepped inside, the bell above the door chiming softly. The patrons barely glanced up, though she could feel their awareness prickling at the edges of her senses. Beings from the Otherworld had a way of blending in, but only just. Ariadne’s eyes scanned the room until they landed on a man in the far corner. His unassuming appearance belied the storm she felt in his aura.
Callen didn’t bother standing as she approached. “You’re late.”
“And you’re cryptic,” she replied, sliding into the seat across from him. “What’s so urgent?”
Callen leaned forward, his dark eyes sharp and unrelenting. “The Vessel is active. We’ve tracked her to the cathedral. If we don’t secure her first, it’s over.”
Ariadne raised an eyebrow. “Over? Dramatic, even for you.”
Callen’s jaw tightened. “You don’t get it, do you? The Vessel isn’t just some magical relic we can lock away. She’s a person. A key. And if they find her—”
“They’ll open the gate,” Ariadne finished, the weight of the words settling on her chest like lead. “I thought the gate was a myth.”
“It’s not. And neither is she.”
The cathedral loomed like a forgotten god, its spires clawing at the night sky. Ariadne stood at the edge of the courtyard, her breath visible in the icy air. The ancient structure seemed to exhale darkness, its stained-glass windows glowing faintly from within.
She hesitated, her fingers brushing the silver ring on her right hand. It had been her mother’s, a talisman against the unseen. She didn’t know if it worked, but tonight she needed all the help she could get.
The heavy wooden doors creaked open under her touch, revealing a cavernous interior bathed in moonlight. Shadows danced across the cracked marble floor, and the air was thick with the scent of damp stone and old incense.
And there she was.
The woman stood in the center of the nave, her black leather outfit gleaming like liquid midnight. Her hair, dark as obsidian, framed a face both haunting and hypnotic. But it was her eyes—green and luminous—that held Ariadne captive. They weren’t just looking at her; they were looking through her, as though peeling back the layers of her soul.
“You’re her,” Ariadne said, her voice barely above a whisper. “The Vessel.”
The woman tilted her head, a small smile playing on her crimson lips. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It is,” Ariadne replied, stepping closer. “You don’t understand what you are—what they’ll do to you.”
The woman laughed, the sound echoing like shattered glass. “Oh, I understand perfectly. Better than you, I think.”
Ariadne froze as the woman raised her hand, her fingers tracing invisible patterns in the air. Suddenly, the cathedral walls seemed to ripple, the shadows growing darker, deeper. Symbols etched themselves into the stone, glowing faintly like embers.
“This isn’t just about opening the gate,” the woman said, her voice low and steady. “It’s about choosing who holds the key.”
Ariadne’s mind raced. She had always thought of the Vessel as a passive entity—an object to be protected or destroyed. But now, standing before this woman, she realized how wrong she had been. The Vessel wasn’t a thing. It was a force. And it was alive.
“What do you mean?” Ariadne demanded, her hand instinctively reaching for the dagger hidden beneath her coat.
The woman stepped closer, her movements graceful yet predatory. “You think the gate is some ancient, destructive power? That it will tear your precious world apart?” She leaned in, her eyes locking onto Ariadne’s. “The gate is a choice. A crossroads. And I am the only one who can open it—or close it.”
Ariadne’s grip on the dagger tightened. “Then why haven’t you?”
The woman’s smile faded, replaced by something softer. Sadder. “Because I’ve been waiting for you.”
The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning Ariadne couldn’t yet grasp. “Me? What could I possibly have to do with this?”
“Everything,” the woman replied. “You’re the counterweight, Ariadne. The balance. Without you, the gate doesn’t just open—it shatters.”
Ariadne’s heart pounded in her chest. She had spent her life running from her family’s legacy, from the prophecies and the power she didn’t want. But now, faced with the truth, she felt something she hadn’t expected: clarity.
“What happens if I refuse?” she asked, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her.
The woman’s gaze softened. “Then they win. And the world you love dies.”
Ariadne took a deep breath, the weight of the moment settling over her. She didn’t want this. But she understood now that it didn’t matter what she wanted. What mattered was what she chose to do.
“Alright,” she said, stepping forward. “What do we need to do?”
The woman’s smile returned, this time genuine. She reached out, her hand hovering over Ariadne’s. “Trust me.”
As their fingers touched, the world around them dissolved into light, and Ariadne finally understood. The gate wasn’t a doorway. It was a mirror.
And together, they would decide what lay on the other side.
The Source…check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: The Cosplay Look That Stole the Stage: Your Guide to Recreating It
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