The Bronx was mostly quiet these days—at least on the surface.
The post-Surge world had turned much of the borough into a half-wild zone, the kind you didn't venture into without a solid team or a death wish. Buildings stood like broken teeth, jutting up through concrete overgrowth. Moss clung to cracked windows. Old subway lines pulsed with Rift energy that glowed faintly blue beneath the streets.
But deep inside the heart of the ruin sat what used to be the New York Public Library Bronx branch—a monolithic structure of stone and steel now overtaken by vines, shattered stained glass, and whispering spirits.
Elijah and Selene approached it just past noon. Clouds rolled thick overhead, casting the street in gray gloom.
"You sure about this?" Selene asked, holding her coat tighter as the wind kicked up. "I've heard stories about this place. None of them have happy endings."
"Since when do I go for happy endings?" Elijah smirked.
She gave him a look.
"Okay, okay, I prefer happy endings," he said. "But if we want answers about the Surge and why Karu acts like he's been through it before, this is the place."
They reached the massive stone steps. At the top, beneath the library's archway, was a sigil—etched into the stone in old glyphic. A spell.
"Perception ward," Elijah said, eyes narrowing. "Cloaks the building from aerial scans. Probably why the AWC hasn't demolished it."
Selene looked at him, impressed. "How do you know all this?"
"I read," Elijah replied. "Don't look so surprised."
She rolled her eyes. "Just... be careful. We don't know what's waiting inside."
He nodded once, then stepped through the archway.
The moment he did, the air shifted. The world fell quiet. Like someone had placed a glass dome over his ears.
Inside, the library was massive. Shelves towered like forgotten monuments, their contents mostly rotted or consumed by age. Dust floated like stars in shadowed light shafts, and silence weighed like water.
But more than that—there was a presence here. Watching. Listening.
Elijah moved carefully, Karu's essence simmering under his skin.
"Archivist?" he called. "We're not here to fight. Just looking for knowledge."
A pause.
Then: click... click... click...
Footsteps echoed from the far side of the hall.
Selene gripped her sidearm.
From between two bookshelves emerged a woman—tall, draped in black robes that shimmered like ink. Her eyes glowed faintly violet, and her skin was a shade too pale for the living. Her hair flowed like shadow, gravity-defiant, as if underwater.
"Few still seek knowledge," she said. Her voice carried the gravity of centuries. "Fewer still survive it."
"You're the Archivist," Elijah said, not a question.
She nodded once. "And you are the boy with the old soul. The one they forgot... but the dead did not."
His spine stiffened.
She glided forward—her feet never quite touching the ground.
"You bear the mark of the Ashbound. The first to speak to the dead, and the last to truly command them."
"I didn't choose this," Elijah said carefully.
"Nor did fire choose to burn. Yet it does."
Selene stepped forward. "We're here because the dead are remembering. His summon, Karu—it's aware. Sentient. Powerful."
The Archivist's eyes flickered. "Then it begins."
"What does?"
She looked toward the high, shattered windows. "The Undying Cycle. One hundred years ago, the Surge broke the veil. But it wasn't the first time. It was the third."
Elijah's pulse quickened. "You're saying... the Surge is recurring?"
The Archivist turned. "Cycles of power rise and fall. Each time, a necromancer awakens. And each time, the world either bends… or breaks."
He swallowed. "And me?"
"You are the fulcrum," she said. "The balance between dominion and disaster."
Elijah frowned. "That's vague and unhelpful."
She smiled faintly. "Good. You're not a fool."
Selene crossed her arms. "Then tell us what to do."
The Archivist waved her hand. A book floated off the shelf—ancient, bound in bone. She held it out to Elijah.
"This holds the location of the Second Gate," she said.
"Gate?"
"A convergence point. A place where the veil is thinnest. Your second summon waits there. The gate must be opened in blood, and its guardian will not kneel easily."
Elijah took the book. The instant it touched his skin, he felt it. Like an echo vibrating through his soul. Something… waiting.
"Thanks for the warning," he said.
The Archivist's voice lowered. "One more thing. You are not the only one the Cycle has touched."
"What do you mean?"
"There are others," she said. "Not necromancers. But touched by the Surge in ways even I cannot trace. Seek them. They are pieces of the storm to come."
Elijah nodded slowly. "Do they have names?"
"One does," she said, turning away. "Liora. Find her before the Silence does."
With that, she vanished—faded like dust into the ruins.
Elijah and Selene stood in silence for a moment.
Finally, Selene whispered, "I hate creepy ghost librarians."
Later that night, back in Elijah's apartment, he stared at the book.
The cover had no title. No markings. But when he opened it, the pages didn't show ink—they revealed memories. Images played in his mind like dreams: a jungle, a silver monolith buried in roots, a gate carved from obsidian.
He saw chains.
He heard screaming.
Then the vision ended.
Elijah leaned back, eyes wide. "Hell of a vacation spot."
Selene leaned over his shoulder. "We'll need a team."
"Not a bad idea," Elijah muttered. "This is getting bigger than me."
He thought about what the Archivist had said—seek the others. Pieces of the storm. Liora.
He remembered stories of rogue Awakened operating outside of AWC control. Some good. Some dangerous. Some just... lost.
Maybe they were more than rumors.
"Alright," he said aloud. "We start building."
Selene raised a brow. "What? A team?"
"No," Elijah said with a smirk. "A legend."
Elsewhere, in the heart of Manhattan, a young woman stood on the edge of a high-rise overlooking Times Square.
Her long crimson coat whipped in the wind, her eyes glowing faintly gold. She held a coin between her fingers, flipping it again and again.
Tails. Tails. Tails.
She flipped it once more.
Heads.
She smiled.
"So," she whispered. "The Ashbound rises again."
Then she turned and disappeared into the night.