My Infinite System.

Chapter 285: Captured But Not Broken

Reia couldn’t move.

That was the first thing she registered. No hands. No feet. No ability to blink or swallow or turn her head. Just awareness, trapped inside a body that refused to respond.

She was suspended in something that wasn’t quite darkness. It was more like the absence of everything—light, sound, warmth, time. A void that pressed against her from all sides without touching her at all.

Beside her, Vyn hung in the same nothingness.

Vyn’s eyes were closed. Her face was peaceful, like she’d fallen asleep and forgotten to wake up. Reia had been watching her for what felt like forever, counting the seconds between Vyn’s barely visible breaths.

One breath. Two breaths. Three.

Counting kept her sane.

The bindings that held them weren’t ropes or chains. They weren’t even energy in the way cultivators understood it. They were more like rules—concepts made physical, pressing down on every part of them that mattered. Movement. Speech. Power.

All blocked.

All silenced.

Except her mind.

Her mind was still hers.

The void shifted.

Reia felt it before she saw it—a change in pressure, a ripple in the nothing. Something was coming. Something that didn’t walk so much as unfold itself into existence.

A figure took shape in front of them.

It started as a suggestion, a gathering of shadows that slowly condensed into something almost human. It had a face that changed every few seconds—young, old, male, female, sometimes animal, sometimes just blank skin with no features at all.

It looked at Vyn first, head tilted like a curious bird.

Then its gaze shifted to Reia.

"You’re awake," it said. Its voice was smooth, calm, almost pleasant. "I can tell."

Reia didn’t respond. Couldn’t respond.

The figure smiled, amused by its own observation.

"The other one sleeps," it continued, gesturing at Vyn. "But you. You watch. You count. You remember."

Another figure appeared beside the first. This one didn’t bother with a human shape—it remained jagged, broken, like shattered glass pushed into a rough outline. Its voice was harsher, two tones at once.

"Break her," it said. "Now."

The first figure waved a hand lazily. "No. Not yet."

"Weakness," the jagged one hissed. "You hesitate."

"I plan." The first figure’s face settled into that of a middle-aged man with cold eyes. "There’s a difference."

The jagged one bristled but didn’t argue.

The first figure drifted closer to Reia, close enough that if she could feel anything, she’d feel its presence like a weight on her chest.

"You’re wondering where you are," it said. "What we want. How this ends."

It paused, waiting for a reaction it knew wouldn’t come.

"I’ll tell you anyway," it continued. "You’re in a place between places. A crack where your universe leaks into ours. We’ve been waiting here a long time. Feeding on the edges. Growing stronger."

The jagged one cut in. "They don’t need to know this."

"They need to understand." The first figure’s voice was patient, almost kind. "Understanding makes the breaking sweeter."

It turned back to Reia.

"We tried to take your power when we captured you," it said. "Both of you. But there’s a block. Something inside that won’t let us in. A wall behind the wall."

It reached out a hand and pressed it toward Reia’s chest, not touching, just hovering.

Reia felt the pressure—a pull, a demand, something trying to reach into her and grab hold. freeωebnovēl.c૦m

Nothing happened.

The figure’s face flickered with annoyance.

"You feel that?" it asked. "That’s him. The one who sleeps. He’s holding you closed even from far away."

The jagged one stirred. "The block changes when he’s near."

"Yes." The first figure withdrew its hand. "When he’s close, the block becomes something else. A doorway."

Reia’s mind sharpened.

A doorway.

They wanted Lucian close so they could use him. Use his connection to her and Vyn to get inside.

The first figure smiled like it could hear her thoughts.

"You understand," it said. "Good. That’s good. I want you to understand."

A third presence joined them. This one was quieter, heavier, shaped like a tall figure with no face at all—just smooth skin where features should be. A mouth appeared when it spoke.

"We should test her," it said.

The first figure glanced back. "What kind of test."

"Memory." The faceless one’s mouth curved. "She holds things. Names. Faces. Attachments."

The jagged one hissed with approval. "Yes. Break the awake one through what she loves."

Reia felt nothing. She’d prepared for this. She’d trained for this. Every name they spoke would be a weapon, and she would not give them the satisfaction of a reaction.

The faceless one leaned close.

"Lucian," it said.

The void around the name shifted. Reia’s mind flickered, just for an instant—an image of silver hair, tired eyes, a quiet voice saying "I’m not a monster."

The faceless one’s mouth widened. "There. She feels it."

The first figure watched with interest.

The faceless one tried another. "Vyn."

Nothing from Vyn’s still form. But Reia’s mind supplied the image anyway—Vyn laughing at something stupid, Vyn rolling her eyes at a bad joke, Vyn standing guard when everyone else slept.

"Evelyn."

Another flicker. Evelyn’s rare smile. Evelyn’s steady hands. Evelyn’s voice saying "we don’t leave people behind."

The faceless one straightened, satisfied. "She’s full of them. Memories. Connections. Weaknesses."

The first figure shook its head slowly. "Not weaknesses. Anchors."

"Same thing."

"No." The first figure’s voice turned cold. "Anchors keep them whole. Weaknesses would make them fall apart. These memories—they’re not cracks. They’re foundations."

The jagged one bristled. "Then we burn the foundations."

"We can’t." The first figure gestured at the void around them. "Not from here. Not while the block holds."

The faceless one’s mouth narrowed. "Then we wait."

"Yes." The first figure looked at Reia again, its face shifting into something almost gentle. "We wait for him to come. And when he does, the block becomes a bridge. And we cross."

Reia held its gaze with eyes that couldn’t move.

The first figure smiled.

"You’re angry," it said. "I can feel it. Not fear. Not despair. Anger. Good. Anger makes you last longer."

It drifted back, joining the other two.

"She’ll do," it said to them. "She’s strong enough to hold until he arrives."

The jagged one growled. "And the other?"

The first figure glanced at Vyn’s sleeping form. "She’s deeper. The sleep protects her. We can’t reach her mind at all."

"Then she’s useless."

"For now." The first figure’s smile returned. "But when he comes, she’ll wake. And then we’ll have both."

The three figures began to fade, dissolving back into the void from which they’d come.

But before the first one vanished completely, it turned back to Reia one last time.

"Tell him," it said softly, "when he gets here. Tell him we’ve been waiting. Tell him we have his family. Tell him the door is open."

It paused.

"And tell him," it added, voice dropping to a whisper, "that we’re hungry."

Then they were gone.

The void returned to its endless, pressing silence.

Reia hung in the nothing, staring at the space where they’d been, her mind racing through everything she’d heard.

They wanted Lucian here. They needed him close. The block that protected her and Vyn would become a pathway when he arrived.

They thought they were setting a trap.

They thought they were the hunters.

Reia’s mind settled into cold, clear focus.

She’d been in traps before. She’d been captured, bound, questioned. She’d watched enemies celebrate too early and make mistakes.

The Outer Gods had just made a mistake.

They’d told her their plan.

They’d shown her their confidence.

And confidence, Reia knew better than most, was just arrogance wearing a pretty mask.

She couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t warn anyone.

But she could wait.

She could count.

She could remember every word, every face, every weakness they’d revealed.

And when Lucian came—because he would come—she’d be ready.

The void pressed in.

Vyn breathed beside her, slow and steady.

And in the distance, Reia felt it again—that heartbeat, that pressure, that presence moving toward them through the dark.

Closer now.

Coming faster.

She held onto that feeling like a lifeline.

Come on, she thought. Come on.

The void trembled.

And somewhere far above, something answered.