Echo EZTHAMIC's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

The bell still rang above Echo as he climbed from the shaft. Its sound rolled through the ribbed cathedral and died. He stood in a vast hall of curved bone and cracked stone. Red light leaked through broken windows. Water dripped from his armor. The bell had warned every hunting thing of his place. Now he waited to see what came. A shape stepped from the shadows between two ribs. Tall. Scorched armor. Cloth wrapped over his face. He carried a long hooked blade meant to drag men from hiding. Echo had never seen him, yet the man stared like he knew a corpse walking. This was the cathedral's executioner. Someone had sent him to the flood and told him Echo drowned there. "You should be dead," the Hunter said. His voice shook with something close to fear. "I counted the water. I counted the days." He raised the hook. "Whatever wears that face, I bury it again." He lunged. The hook tore across Echo's shoulder and ripped him sideways. Echo rolled and drew Eclipse Fang. The blade flared red. Steel met the hook and sparks fell. The Hunter fought like a man erasing a mistake, each swing heavy and sure. Their clash woke the dead. Along the walls, hollowed worshippers stirred. Their torn chests glowed with trapped voices. The Choir Husks rose from the pews and wailed. The sound filled the hall. Echo and the Hunter both staggered. Dozens of husks crawled toward the noise of the fight. Echo needed room. A heavy chain hung from the vaulted bone, strung with ornate metal bells. He grabbed it and pulled with all his weight. The anchor cracked loose. The chain crashed down among the husks, crushing a row of them and ringing like thunder. The sound drew the rest toward the wreckage. Echo cut through the thinning crowd, Eclipse Fang shearing bone. The Hunter came again through the chaos. Echo caught the hook on his blade and drove his shoulder into the man's chest. The Hunter fell against a shattered pew. A black medallion swung loose from his belt. It bore the false god's mark, the same god whose light kept Echo buried. Echo tore it free. "That's not yours," the Hunter hissed. He clutched his bleeding side and backed toward the dark. "Who sent you?" Echo demanded. The Hunter did not answer that. He limped between the ribs, husks parting around him. At the edge of the shadow he stopped and looked back. "The Erased One," he said. "They told me you were gone for good." Then he was gone, swallowed by the dark. Echo stood among the broken husks. The name turned in his head. He had never heard it. Yet the Hunter spoke it like a verdict. In his fist lay the black seal, marked with the god he meant to topple. Someone powerful had ordered his death and believed it done. Now they would learn he still walked. And the seal in his hand was a thread back to whoever had sent the blade.