The Endless Balance of an Ancient Sorrow Volume 2 GC Chapter 1 Those Who Vanish, and Those Are Volunteered

Copyright © 2025 by Ryan Melrose 

 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the author. 

This is a work of fiction. 

 All names, characters, places, organizations, and events are either products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictional manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, real-world locations, corporations, or institutions is entirely coincidental. If you genuinely believe any character in this book is secretly based on you, you might be reading a bit too deep—or just hunting for a payout. Either way, this story isn’t about you. Maybe talk to someone about that. 

This is the first publication, written and illustrated by Ryan Melrose, and published in Australia. 

The Endless Balance of an Ancient Sorrow Gavern Codex (GC) Volume 2 

 CHAPTER 1 

Those Who Vanish, and Those Who Are Volunteered 

 

Alone in a padded, featureless room, the boy sat in silence. He didn’t know where he was—only that he’d been there for a couple of nights. Maybe more. Time blurred between the beige walls. 

He was young. Dark-haired. His EYEs were sunken with sleeplessness, and his hair sat in wild, uncombed clumps. A straitjacket wrapped tight around his frame. His mouth was gagged. A feeding tube had been set in place. 

This wasn’t cruelty. It was precaution. 

Because Silus Mikana was dangerous. 

The power within him wasn’t natural—it wasn’t even human. It had been given to him, burned into his soul by The Entity, a cosmic aberration that had twisted his grief into wrath. And with that gift came something terrifying: 

The Binding Word—the ability to compel obedience with a command. If Silus spoke and you heard it you read his lips… you obEYEd. You had to. 

He had used it to kill. Not with his hands, but with words. With suggestions that became suicide notes. With sentences that ended lives. 

All to avenge the deaths of his parents. 

He’d been four years old when they died. Eleven years he’d waited for justice. 

In the end, Silus had taken it himself. 

Everyone he blamed—board members, executives, bystanders at McGullen Corporation—had fallen to his power. And he didn’t regret it. 

But what gnawed at him now, more than guilt or fear or even death… was Sorrow. 

The masked, spectral vigilante who had stopped him. One being, impervious to the Binding Word. Immovable. Unbreakable. 

He wouldn’t bow. 

And neither would that girl from Palladium Academy. 

Silus fumed. 

Still, he remained strangely satisfied. Hugo Transyn—the man who sat at the root of it all—was dead. And according to paperwork recovered by FATE, he had personally orchestrated the deaths of hundreds, if not more, under the guise of policy and profit. 

Silus didn’t care if he lived anymore. 

He just wanted quiet. 

But that wasn’t what he got. 

The cell door hissed open. 

In stepped a figure clad in sleek emerald armor, white helmet gleaming under fluorescent lights. Blue lenses glowed faintly at the temples. Twin holstered blaster pistols. A green cape trailing behind like authority made fabric. 

Vincent Crade, codename: Agent-EYE. 

“Alright, Silus. Let’s talk.” 

He helped the boy to his feet and guided him to an adjacent room—stripped bare except for two chairs and a flickering screen. 

EYE removed the gag. Then unbuckled the straitjacket. 

Silus stretched stiff arms and blinked against the harsh lights. “What do you want, you sci-fi convention reject?” 

Agent EYE didn’t flinch. “I’m here to talk. And to offer you a choice.” 

Silus scoffed. “What choice? I’m a mass murderer. I should be executed. I probably will kill again. There’s no choice to make.” 

“Maybe,” EYE admitted. “But after reviewing the files on Hugo Transyn and the McGullen Board… we’re starting to think you may have done the world a favor.” 

“Don’t make me laugh, Agent. I waited eleven years for justice. Nothing ever happened. So I made it happen.” 

“We know,” EYE said calmly. “And that’s why we’re not here to end your life.” 

Silus sneered beneath hollow EYEs. “Then what do you want from me? Hurry up and spit it out. My patience is wearing thin.” 

Agent-EYE didn’t respond immediately. He stood silent, studying the boy across from him—trying to find the right tone, the right words to reach someone drowning in fury and loss. 

“We don’t know how your powers manifested,” EYE admitted. “We’ve read your file. Aside from a few trespassing charges, you were just a grieving kid with no real priors. Whatever force gave you the Binding Word as we call it—it changed you. And you’re right. If we released you now, you’d kill again. You’d find a new face. A new target. A new reason.” 

He stepped forward. 

“But that doesn’t mean you have to rot in a padded cell like an animal.” 

Silus raised a brow. 

“And now,” EYE said, voice even, “I give you a choice. Join us. FATE. If you're going to kill again, let’s aim you at the right monsters. Do some good while you burn.” 

That made Silus laugh. Loud and cruel. 

“Hah! That’s hilarious,” he spat. “You think I’d join your little boy band? After what I did? After all the FATE operatives I murdered at Palladium?” 

Vincent sighed beneath the weight of it all. 

“Those men knew the risks. Every operative does. That’s why… you won’t be charged. So long as you accept a lifetime of servitude to FATE. In exchange, you’ll have freedom—within boundaries.” 

He placed a thin folder on the table. 

“Three meals a day. An apartment, paid for. Resources. Training. Even a million dollars deposited in a private account—legally owed to you by McGullen Corp. You were never supposed to see that money.” 

Silus tilted his head. 

“And if I say yes…? What exactly would you I be doing” 

“You get to take out more trash,” EYE said. “The kind no law will ever touch. The kind that smile for the cameras while they tear the world apart behind closed doors. I’m offering purpose, Silus.” 

Then slowly, Silus grinned—a jagged, wicked grin that curled with something primal. 

“I’m in,” he whispered. 

His EYEs gleamed darkly as he leaned forward. 

“Let me show these wannabe monsters… what a real monster can do.”  

2 

Millana’s hair fell straight and glossy around her shoulders, a curtain of silk-dark black that shimmered faintly in the morning light. She’d brushed it out of habit more than necessity. Like rising before the sun, the ritual was baked into her bones by the rhythms of academy life. 

Under normal circumstances, she’d be on her way to class by now. Palladium Academy didn’t tolerate lateness—not from its future world leaders, and definitely not from its elite recruitment candidates. The school prided itself on producing CEOs, diplomats, operatives, and legacy-shaping minds. One of many institutions quietly overseen by FATE. 

But after recent events—events she’d witnessed firsthand—Palladium was closed. Repairs underway. Staff reshuffling. A new headmaster or headmistress yet to be named. 

To most students, it was a well-earned break. 

To Millana, it was an open door. 

She zipped her jacket, slung her satchel over her shoulder, and set off down the wide marble steps outside the dormitory. Her boots tapped a steady rhythm on the path toward Fraid City’s main library. She had no time for distractions. If anything, she was grateful for the silence. 

Because now, without school in the way, she had time to investigate the one person no one seemed able to explain: 

Sorrow. 

Who—or what—was he really? 

Some said vigilante. Some whispered divine being. Some claimed weaponized ghost. 

Her friends didn’t help with the speculation. 

Tellai—confident, carefree, an athletic star who practically lived in the spotlight—treated Millana’s obsession with Sorrow like it was a sports commentary segment. She found the whole thing amusing, and her cocky smirk never left for long. 

Then there were the twins: Leo and Theo Whitacus. 

Twin journalists. Twin headaches. 

Leo was methodical—a notebook scribbler who saw connections in everything from train wrecks to taco sales. Theo was louder, always armed with a camera and a conspiracy theory, usually wrong but never in doubt. 

They ran the Palladium school paper with the frantic energy of two raccoons fighting over a fax machine. They also argued constantly about Sorrow’s true nature: alien, operative, god… or figment of the collective subconscious. 

Millana rolled her EYEs just thinking about it. 

She only hoped that this time, they’d actually have something useful. 

Millana decided breakfast was a good first step. 

The cold hadn't quite broken yet, so she tucked herself into a cozy café near the library, ordering a flat white and a classic ham and cheese toastie. She took a seat by the window, her winter jacket—a soft coffee-brown zip-up—resting loosely over a fitted pink top. 

As she sipped her coffee, she caught a glimpse of the newspaper the man at the next table was reading. The headline sprawled in bold across the front page: 

HUGRO TRANSYN EXPOSED 

She leaned ever so slightly to scan the subheadings. Details about illegal experiments. Corporate negligence. FATE investigations. It was all there. Everything. 

Her former headmaster. The respected titan of McGullen Corp. The man Silus had... destroyed. 

And just like that, it all clicked into place. 

Hugo Transyn was the real monster. 

She sat back in her seat, the toastie now cooling on the plate, and adjusted her jacket with a sigh—something heavy sinking into her chest. 

“Millana? Hey—Millana!” 

She turned. 

A girl with short, electric-blue hair waved enthusiastically from the doorway, a boy trailing beside her. Halliette Rava and Urlich Hale—two familiar faces from another life. They’d grown up in Green Hill together. While Millana had earned a scholarship to Palladium, Halliette and Urlich had stayed local, attending Elliot Bran High—the kind of school where you didn’t get scouted by FATE, but you did learn how to avoid suspicious meat pies in the canteen. 

“Halliette? Urlich?” Millana stood up, surprised and smiling. “No way! It’s been years—it’s like a surprise reunion!” 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Right?” Halliette grinned. “We still live in Green Hill. Not the same without you, but we’re surviving. Watch each other’s backs, like always.” 

“I heard your school had some kind of attack,” Urlich added, concern mixed with curiosity. “That must’ve been... scary.” 

Millana nodded, her expression sobering. “Yeah. Scary doesn’t even begin to cover it. Especially now, knowing the truth about our Headmaster…” She gestured toward the newspaper. “Turns out he was behind thousands of deaths. Thousands. Through McGullen.” 

“No way,” Halliette whispered. 

Urlich leaned on the chair opposite her. “So wait—your school’s like… part military, right? Do you really get to shoot guns?” 

Millana tilted her head. “We do have weapons training. FATE facilities. It’s not exactly military, though.” 

“Then why all the combat gear?” 

She shrugged. “Honestly? I don’t know. Half of us just want a decent job after graduation.” 

“Well,” Urlich said, checking the time, “we’ve gotta run. It’s graduation day for us.” He smiled. “Guess your school’s still playing catch-up—attack delay and all. Lucky us, huh?” 

There was a beat. 

Then—bam!—both Millana and Halliette slugged him in the shoulder in unison. 

“Medic!” Halliette cried. “This man’s suffering from advanced foot-in-mouth disease!” 

“Urlich!” Millana gasped, trying not to laugh. “You cannot say that!” 

“Ow, okay! I meant it jokingly!” he yelped, grinning and rubbing his arm. 

It was like stepping back in time—three kids on the hill, daring each other to ride their bikes down that one death-slope behind the shopping center. Nothing had changed. 

“We really should catch up,” Millana said warmly. 

Halliette held up her pinky. “You know the deal.” 

Millana looped hers without hesitation. “Pinky swear.” 

The two waved goodbye as they ducked out, laughing, vanishing into the bustle of school kids crossing the street. 

Millana settled back into her seat, nursing her coffee. 

A moment of peace. Of warmth. 

But the paper still sat across the aisle. And the headline still stared back at her. 

The monsters weren’t always hiding in the dark. 

Sometimes, they were signing diplomas.  

 

3 

Frank Gavern—the youngest graduate of Palladium Academy and the youngest officer in Fraid City Police—was having a deceptively quiet week. No shootouts. No lunatics running around. But quiet didn’t mean peaceful. 

The Silus Mikana Incident was wrapped up. Technically. And yet Frank and his partner, Detective Arthur Sinclaire, were buried in paperwork. Not just fallout reports, but new case files. Ones that didn’t make headlines. 

Teenage boys were going missing. Once every night. Ten days. Ten victims. 

No witnesses. No camera footage. No blood. Just... vanished. 

Frank stared at the latest file, jaw tight. It was like chasing vapor. 

“They say finding a needle in a haystack’s impossible,” Arthur muttered across the desk, sipping his fifth coffee. “But I think we just found a haystack with no damn needle at all.” 

Frank didn’t respond. 

Arthur sighed. “Ten disappearances, Frank. That’s ten chances at a 0.5% lead. You know what 0.5 times 10 gets you?” 

Frank blinked. 

“Still zero,” Arthur finished grimly. “Technically.” 

Frank was used to his partner’s cynicism—it came with the badge. But that didn’t make it easier. 

“Forget this one, Frank. Probably just a string of runaways. It happens.” 

Frank looked up slowly. “Is that what I should tell their parents? Ten missing boys and no one seems to care because no one saw it happen?” He stood, file in hand. “We’re only now being looped in. FATE knew. Internal Affairs knew. But we’re expected to work blind.” 

Arthur shrugged. “It’s bureaucracy, kid. They always hold off until the panic can’t be contained.” 

“One kid disappearing? Tragic. Two? Maybe a coincidence. Ten? Ten in ten days?” Frank tossed the file on the table. “That’s not just a pattern. That’s a harvest.” 

Arthur scowled, but didn’t argue. 

He reached into the desk drawer and slid a folded newspaper across the table. “Here. Looks like the press caught wind anyway.” 

Frank caught the paper in midair. And the second his fingertips brushed the inked headline— 

His vision cracked. 

Sudden darkness. 

A low-lit corridor. Stone or concrete. Curved walls—cylindrical. A tunnel. Faint echoes. Cold air. 

And something humming far away. 

Then—nothing. 

He snapped back, heart pounding. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d seen a vision. But it was the first time he’d seen one without blood as a trigger. Just… a newspaper. A mundane object. 

And still, it summoned something. 

A tunnel. 

Frank stared at his hands, mind racing. 

“You’ve got that stare again,” Arthur said, half-concerned, half-annoyed. “What is it? Another headache?” 

Frank blinked, still dazed. “No. Not a headache. Something else…” 

Something was calling him underground. 

“We need to focus on finding the victims,” Frank said, voice firm. 

Arthur threw his hands up. “Come on, Frank—we don’t even know if they’re victims yet!” 

“And we don’t know that they’re not,” Frank fired back, eyes flaring just enough to make his partner stop talking. 

Then—he exhaled. Soft. Controlled. 

“…I need to step out. Twenty minutes.” 

Arthur blinked. “Where are you even goi—?” 

But Frank was already outside. 

The morning air bit at his cheeks as he stepped down the front steps of the precinct. Fraid City buzzed in the distance—traffic, chatter, sirens that never fully disappeared. 

He stopped just past the sidewalk. 

And then he began to glow. 

A golden-yellow radiance pulsed from beneath his skin, climbing his frame like sunlight running in reverse. His eyes lit up—pure yellow—casting a shimmer across the concrete. 

In a flicker of light— 

Frank Gavern vanished. 

No sigil. No gesture. 

Just power. 

Back to Gavern House. 

 

4 

 

The halls of FATE Headquarters gleamed with surgical precision—sleek floors, glowing blue lines pulsing beneath reinforced glass panels, and not a speck of dust in sight. Everything hummed softly, cold and sterile, like a utopia that forgot real people lived in it. 

Silus grimaced.
“Ugh. How can you stand this place? It’s like a hospital made love to a lightbulb. Nauseating.” 

Agent-EYE didn’t stop walking.
“You’ll get used to it, kid. Now behave—this isn’t some street corner interrogation. The director herself wants to see you. Speak when spoken to.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Just better not be a waste of my time,” Silus muttered, hands in his pockets. 

They stepped through a reinforced blast door into an executive suite that could’ve housed a war room—or a throne. 

Behind a sweeping desk of obsidian and chrome stood Director Valerie Salesta, head of FATE. Her presence was ice and fire—sharp-suited, cold-EYEd, and absolutely unamused. 

“Ma’am,” EYE said, straightening slightly. “This is Silus, as ordered. He’ll be under my command.” 

Valerie’s gaze swept over the boy with surgical calm. 

“I trust Agent-EYE has explained the terms of your service, Silus?” 

“He has,” Silus said, arms crossed. “And I’m already annoyed. So, what do you want?” 

Valerie raised a brow—then, surprisingly, chuckled. The kind of chuckle one might give a cat who thought it was a lion.
“Attitude, I can tolerate. If there’s fire under it. Good.” 

She turned, her heels clicking softly as she pulled up a digital projection of case files. 

“We have a warm-up assignment for you. One that matters. You’ve likely heard about the recent string of disappearances—teenage boys, gone without a trace.” 

She saw EYE’s stillness and knew he was already briefed. 

“You’ll both be assisting the Fraid City Police Department on this matter. Ten cases in ten days. I don’t want this turning into a pattern we can’t contain. If something—or someone—is threatening the youth of this city, I want it stopped.” 

“Officially,” she added, eyes narrowing, “the FCPD will report to you, EYE.” 

EYE nodded in acknowledgment. 

Silus, however, rolled his eyes.
“You’re kidding me. Babysitting brats my age? I thought I’d be killing monsters—not solving milk carton mysteries.” 

He turned toward the door. “Forget it. I’m out—” 

Valerie’s voice snapped like a whip.
“Take one more step out that door, and it’s back to the padded cell.” 

Silus froze. 

“Do not underestimate this city, boy,” she said coolly. “It will chew you up and spit out what’s left. Every case means something. Every victim has ripples. If this is a predator—human or otherwise—then lethal force is authorized.” 

That stopped him. 

Slowly, Silus turned back. 

A smile crept across his face. The first real one he’d worn since his imprisonment. Sinister. Satisfied. Seen. 

“Now that,” he said softly, “is more like it.” 

Without another word, Silus and Agent-EYE stepped out of the office. 

Mission received.
Weapons loaded.
And the monsters of Fraid City had one more thing to fear.  

 

 

5 

Millana stepped through the towering doors of Fraid City Central Library. Twin marble panthers flanked the entrance like silent sentinels, their sculpted EYEs gleaming with quiet threat beneath the cloudy skylight above. 

She brushed a lock of windblown hair from her face and moved with purpose into the main atrium. 

Inside, the air was crisp with chilled circulation and aged paper. Holographic catalogues glowed in quiet corners. Shelves stretched like disciplined sentries around the marble floors. But Millana’s EYEs were already locked on her people. 

Tellai Hughes, relaxed as ever, leaned against a history shelf like she was waiting for the next hundred-meter sprint to begin. She wore her track jacket half-zipped over her uniform, earbuds in one ear, protein bar in hand.  

Nearby, the Whitacus twins, Leo and Theo, were already arguing across their fortress of notepads and highlighted maps. Leo, the diagram guy, waved his digital tablet like he was presenting to a board. Theo, armed with sticky notes and three different pens, jabbed at a news clipping pinned between coffee cups. 

Millana smiled. 

Then she collided with someone at the edge of an aisle. 

“Oh geez—sorry, that was totally my—” 

“Think nothing of it,” came a voice, smooth as silk and twice as smug. “We can’t all be as coordinated as me.” 

Millana blinked and took half a step back. 

Carol Hanaman. 

She stood with one hand twirling a chestnut curl, the other resting confidently on her curvy hip. Her outfit—tight crimson blouse with a plunging neckline and velvet choker—seemed specifically engineered to draw attention to her ample bust, which she proudly, unapologetically emphasized every chance she got. 

“What are you doing here?” Millana asked flatly. “Checking the fashion section for your next boob job?” 

Carol laughed—sharp, haughty, theatrical.
“Oh honey, please. These beauties?” She lifted her hands slightly beneath her chest and gave a satisfied little shake. “All mine. God-tier assets. I should charge people just to look.” 

Millana half-rolled her eyes. 

Carol spotted a young male librarian stacking books nearby and suddenly lit up like it was pageant night. 

“Excuse me, handsome,” she purred, throwing one leg forward into a perfect pose. “Would you be a dear and pick up my returns for me? I dropped them... somewhere down there~” 

The librarian practically tripped over himself. “Y-Yes ma’am!” he stammered, cheeks flushed as he scrambled to gather the scattered books. 

Millana bit back a laugh. 

If Silus had run into Carol during the Palladium incident, would she have short-circuited his Binding Word? Probably not. But the collision of egos would’ve been legendary. 

Carol strolled back, victorious, flipping her hair. “Honestly. Power is wasted on the awkward.” 

She gave Millana a sidelong look. “So. You and your little gang still chasing that moody boy in black? Or that vigilante what was his name again... Tragedy? Mystery? Obsession? Oh—Sorrow.” 

The name hit Carol like a storm wind. 

For a moment, her entire aura shifted. 

“He ignored me,” she muttered, venom threading her voice. “Mid-seduction pose. Didn’t even flinch. Just—teleported me away. Like I was luggage. Luggage!” 

Millana blinked. “Did you just enter a personal vendetta with a vigilante because he didn’t flirt back?” 

“He will acknowledge me,” Carol declared, eyes alight. “He will be captivated. Just you wait.” 

Without warning, she seized Millana’s hand and spun her toward the others. 

“Well, I’m officially joining this little ‘find Sorrow’ operation. Let’s get to it, sweetheart. I have seduction techniques and theory maps.” 

Millana sighed as she was dragged across the marble floor in click-clack heels and perfume trails. 

Chaos had arrived.
And her name was Carol Hanaman. 

 

 

 

 

 

6 

Frank returned to the Fraid City precinct with quiet urgency in his stride. 

His conversation with Selia, the guardian spirit of Gavern House, still echoed in his head. She had spoken with her usual composure, crystalline and ancient. The changes in his foresight were not an anomaly—they were evolution. As the wielder of the Endless Balance, Frank’s power was maturing. No longer limited to visions triggered by blood, he could now glimpse threads of fate simply by touching objects tied to his goals. 

It was a deeper resonance, a wider net. 

And a much heavier burden. 

He muttered to himself as he pushed through the lobby doors.
“Those tunnels. That humming. It has to be connected to the missing Teenage boys... but how?” 

He didn’t get time to finish the thought. 

The main floor was packed—officers crowding near the briefing screens like a live crisis was underway. 

Frank slowed. Something felt off. Authority had shifted. 

And then he saw why. 

At the center of the gathered room stood a familiar figure clad in emerald armor, a white helmet gleaming beneath the fluorescents. 

Agent-EYE. FATE’s top field operative. 

But it was the figure beside him that made Frank’s stomach twist. 

Silus Mikana. 

Unbound. Standing tall. Dressed like someone who’d been unleashed, not paroled. 

Frank froze for a moment, scanning the boy’s expression. 

Silus didn’t react. Of course not. 

So long as Frank wasn’t in his Sorrow form, he was just another face. 

Agent-EYE’s voice cut through the room.
“You heard right. As of now, this precinct is under FATE jurisdiction. Until further notice, your department answers to me.” 

Murmurs swept through the room. Tension thickened. 

“Something or someone—is taking our children without a trace,” EYE continued. “The city demands answers. And we’re going to get them.” 

Frank’s EYEs drifted back to Silus. It was jarring—seeing him like this again. Seeing him walk freely after what happened at Palladium. 

Silus noticed the stare and grinned with teeth made of barbed wire.
“You keep looking at me like that, pretty boy,” he said coolly, “and you might not keep those EYEs much longer.” 

EYE didn’t miss a beat. “Ignore my associate. First assignment. A little... grumpy.” 

Then his helmet turned slightly toward Frank. “You’re Frank Gavern, aren’t you? Youngest top graduate in Palladium history. Fastest promotion in department records.” 

Frank stayed still. “My reputation precedes me, I take it.” 

“Yes,” EYE replied. “Word is you’ve been single-handedly solving half the unsolved files in this city. You’re wasted here. You should be with FATE.” 

Frank met his gaze without flinching.
“With all due respect, Agent, I didn’t join the force to become a yes-man to a militarized faction claiming to be peacekeepers.” 

EYE paused. 

Then, through the modulator, came a sneering undertone.
“And yet... here you are. Answering to me.” 

Frank’s jaw tightened. 

There was power in the room. Competing kinds. And the line between cooperation and control just got thinner.