CHAPTER 1473: STORY 1473: THE FACELESS VESSEL

The air in the cavern quivered, heavy with waiting. Every pulse of the golden pool was a heartbeat, slow and deliberate, echoing in Elena’s bones. She felt it against her ribs, syncing with the ember, threatening to drag her into its rhythm.

Mira didn’t resist. Her crystal veins gleamed in time with the faceless figure, each beat tightening the bond between them. She took a step forward.

Elena caught her wrist. “Don’t.”

Mira’s glasslike eyes flicked to her, shimmering with both fear and awe. “Elena, it knows me. Can’t you feel it? It’s not hostile. It’s... waiting.”

“It’s a trick,” Elena snapped, though her voice wavered. The recognition thrummed deeper now, as if her own marrow whispered in agreement with Mira. “It’s wearing our song like a mask.”

The faceless vessel tilted its head. Slowly, it mirrored Mira’s movement, raising its arm the same way she had. No aggression, no threat. Just reflection.

“See?” Mira whispered. “It’s not attacking. It’s—”

The figure touched its chest. Where its hand met the glowing seam of ember and crystal, light flared. The cavern groaned in reply, veins in the walls lighting up with golden fire. The ground shuddered, and the pool rippled violently.

Elena dragged Mira back as fissures split the cavern floor. From each crack, marrow-light spilled upward, not green, not gold, but a chaotic mixture of both. The marrow was rewriting itself.

“Elena...” Mira’s voice shook. “It’s trying to become us.”

The vessel took a step from the pool. Liquid light clung to its form, dripping off like afterbirth. Its faceless head turned toward them again, and this time its chest split open. Not tearing, not violent—unfolding.

Inside, where a heart should have been, there was a hollow flame and a shard of crystal fused together, beating weakly.

Elena’s knees nearly gave out. It wasn’t just a copy. It wasn’t an imitation. It was a child.

Her child.

Mira’s child.

The marrow’s child.

The recognition in her ember blazed so hot it nearly consumed her. Rage and horror tangled with a pull she couldn’t deny—the instinct to protect, to claim.

Mira staggered forward despite Elena’s grip. Her ribs glowed dangerously, cracks widening as if her body were being called apart. “It needs us,” she whispered, voice breaking. “It’s empty. It’s... unfinished.”

“No!” Elena yanked her back, fury and terror colliding. “That’s what it wants—completion. If we give it that, we’ll lose ourselves.”

The vessel lowered its arms slowly, almost in sorrow. Then, for the first time, it produced a sound.

Not the marrow’s hymn. Not their fused song.

A cry. Thin, raw, trembling.

A newborn’s cry.

The cavern shook violently, veins bursting into golden light that blinded Elena. She clutched Mira tight as the vessel staggered toward them, reaching out—not in hunger, but in desperate need.

The marrow wasn’t demanding anymore.

It was begging.