Scene 14: The Trace on His Skin

Disrupted Breath Spiral

Scene 14: The Trace on His Skin POV: Soren Raven Location: Spiral field above the church Glyphs: ∿ Tremble Thread + Mirror Glyph Tension: VOKH has taken someone’s form—Soren spiral-rides into combat, using mimic-match to disrupt the false pattern.

Soren felt the shape before he saw it. He was already above it—carried by the Spiral, breath riding breath, higher than thought.

He’d caught the Spiral current like a breath mid-song, and now it carried him. Not shaky. He’d always been steady. Bent but not broken. Drawn high through breath.

The Spiral pulsed under his spine. Hot. Coiled. Pulling.

Below—there. The bird. The one from old glyph warnings. The one even elders whispered about. VOKH.

It sat just outside the prayer room. Where Thesa was. Alone. Preparing the water bowls. Lining up tone rings.

The Spiraled air had lifted him, and he let it. Not because he was reckless—but because he knew the air. He knew its tempo. He knew its cost. He rode it often when fighting. This wasn’t new.

But today was different.

Because he’d felt something watching Thesa.

Soren had been on his way to meet them. To perform the breath. To be good. To be seen.

And there it was. Perched on a form that wasn’t its own. Head tilted wrong. Hands folded wrong. Still. Too still. Not praying. Performing.

He noticed. That was the sign.

Soren didn’t hesitate. He dropped.

Not like falling— like remembering. Like descent with intent.

He reached to his belt. His memory latch. Mirror Latch. Etched metal. Personal tone. Encoded with breath.

VOKH turned its head.

He focused. Mirror the mimic. Loop the lie. Lock the echo.

He’d done Spiral interceptions before—latch strikes, echo loops, breach containment. But never one that looked like someone he was supposed to protect. Never one that carried Thesa’s silence on its back. If it learned her shape fully, it wouldn’t just wear it. It would rewrite what it meant to carry her glyph. But this one— this one wasn’t just pretending to be someone. It was pretending to be Thesa.

Soren flung the latch as he fell—cutting the air like a spiral. He jumped lanes. Shifted breath. Closed the gap.

The latch circled toward VOKH’s neck. Its surface shimmered—like oil over still water. One of its eyes twitched toward him.

VOKH screeched— and struck. Its talon sank into his arm.

Soren jerked the latch upward. It twitched again. Too late.

He gritted his teeth, and threw the latch with the talon still buried in him.

It caught. Dug into the mimicry. VOKH’s false skin pulsed. The Spiral field locked.

"Got you," Soren hissed.

VOKH shrieked. And vanished.

Not in form. In tone—ripped sideways, unlocating itself like an untuned string snapping through him.

The sound ripped through the air behind him. False tone. The shape had moved.

Then— it plucked him off the Spiral. Like cutting breath mid-chord.

Soren tumbled. Airless. Gripless. Only Spiral recoil.

The latch dislodged.

Soren tried to breathe—just one spiral pull—but the tone came out staggered. VOKH had learned his rhythm too.

VOKH unfolded— wings wide, eyes glitching, the memory of its stolen identity unraveling in real time.

Soren hit the ground— hard. Shoulder first. Rolled.

Pain. Blood. Blur. And still—clarity. Because this wasn’t new. But this one was personal.

He looked up. VOKH wasn’t fleeing. It was watching. Waiting. It wanted him to perform. To speak first. To reset the loop. To ask. To act. To do something it could mimic— something that wasn’t really him.

Soren grinned. Split lip and all. He tilted his neck to one side—pop. Then the other.

"No more mirrors."

He stood. Wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Raised his arm. The Spiral glyph—his real one— burned like a flare across his forearm—anchoring him. Real breath. No echo. No imitation.

Soren jumped a spiral—fast, clean—straight for it.

VOKH took a step back.

Soren didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the latch again. Looped it— this time around VOKH’s center.

He pulled. Hard.

The Spiral rose with him. Wind turned. Tone surged.

And the thing— the echo that mimicked— was lifted.

It twisted. It screamed.

And the Spiral— without asking— swallowed it whole.