She saw flashes—of when she was in the Void. When she saw Kairo's "sister" smiling in an unnatural way. When she heard the phrase:
"Nothing is purer than false hope."
And now… that same energy tainted the air around Kairo.
"There's... something in you that isn't you," Lyra whispered, tears filling her eyes.
But Kairo didn't respond. Instead, his body wavered, and he collapsed to his knees, hands covering his face.
"It's consuming me!" he cried, and the veins in his neck lit up with symbols Lyra didn't recognize. Not celestial. Not infernal.
It was primitive. From the Origin.
She rushed to him, kneeling. The light around them separated them from the rest of the temple, like a bubble.
"Fight it! I know you're still in there!" she said, holding his face.
Kairo's eyes locked onto hers. For a moment, he seemed present. But then, other voices began echoing within the bubble. Disjointed phrases. Laughter. Weeping.
— "Lyra..."— "Will you save him or destroy him?"— "And what if he no longer wants to be saved?"
Lyra clenched her teeth.
From the temple ceiling, an invisible crack began to bleed darkness. It was as if the veil between worlds was tearing, and something—or someone—was watching.
Kairo collapsed to the side, trembling. A thick, dark thread of energy dripped from his mouth. Then, he spoke in a forgotten tongue, as if his soul was entwined with something too ancient to be named.
Lyra touched his shoulder. Her wings opened instinctively, but half of her feathers were black.
"No..." she whispered. "It's affecting me too?"
The energy bubble devoured them, as if they were in another dimension inside the temple itself. Time there distorted. Lyra's heartbeat was out of rhythm. The entire temple—once a haven of light—now whispered lies.
And among those lies, one presence spoke clearly:
"Marchosias watches. He is closer than you think."
She looked to the ceiling—and for a second, she swore she saw Kairo's sister's eyes watching from the darkness before vanishing like mist.
Kairo screamed again. The markings on his body burst into flaming runes. Parts of his skin fractured, revealing a structure of pure energy beneath. He was becoming something beyond human.
In that instant, a flash ripped through the bubble, and both were hurled against the temple floor.
When the light faded, Kairo lay unconscious. And Lyra… felt something pulsing inside her.
An ancient connection.
A fragment of truth.
"He is the key. But the lock… is me?"
She cried. Not out of weakness, but from fear of what love might cost.
And high above, from behind a thousand veils, Marchosias smiled, whispering:
"Purity never survives truth."
The air still trembled.
Lyra, kneeling beside Kairo's unconscious body, felt her skin burn where his energy had touched hers. The palms of her hands bore markings found in no sacred book—they seemed alive, throbbing as if each stroke had a will of its own.
She tried to stand, but her knees failed. Everything around her seemed faded, except for Kairo's body.
He looked calm now. Almost serene. As if asleep… or sealed.
"Kairo..." her voice quivered.
No response.
She touched him again, and for a brief moment, a memory not her own invaded her mind:
A child in a dark chamber. Alone. Covered in silver threads. Voices singing in a language that pierced the soul. And at the center… an egg made of living flesh.
Lyra recoiled with a scream. Her eyes welled up, and she fell backward.
"What are you...?" she whispered, feeling the world spin.
Suddenly, the mist returned—but now, it crept across the temple floor with purpose. It seemed alive. It breathed. It touched the stone columns, and wherever it passed, it etched scenes of pain: torn-out eyes, sewn-shut mouths, angels burning from the inside out.
Lyra's body shivered.
You are not alone, child of doubt...
The voice echoed inside her mind but didn't come from outside. It came from within.
She looked into her reflection in a puddle of spilled holy water. But the reflection… wasn't hers.
"No..." she backed away.
The reflection smiled with sharp teeth. Its eyes, a violet beyond possibility, pierced through the physical plane.
You've seen the fracture. You are now part of it.
The mist thickened. A figure began to emerge, made of dense shadow and fractured light. Its form wavered between feminine and beastly, between beautiful and grotesque.
Was it Marchosias? Or something worse?
Lyra stood, though her body trembled.
"Stay away from us," she growled, an aura of pure sacred force enveloping her.
But the figure didn't retreat.
It pointed at Kairo.
Do you think he is still the one you love?
Silence.
Or is he merely the vessel that harbors ruin?
Lyra hesitated. Inside, a brutal doubt began consuming her chest. But then—something shifted.
Kairo sat up suddenly, gasping. His eyes were empty, but his hands trembled as if resisting the will of something greater.
"L-Lyra...?" he said, voice ragged.
She rushed to him, ignoring the creature behind.
"You're here...? Is it really you?"
"I... I don't know who I am anymore," he replied, then turned to face the figure.
The entity laughed.
The fracture will grow. And you, soft-hearted fools, will open the gate.
Then it exploded into a thousand shards of black glass, embedding into the temple walls.
The mist vanished. Silence returned to the temple.
But nothing was the same.
Lyra embraced Kairo, not knowing if he was still himself.
"We'll figure this out. Together," she said. "If the whole world falls… I want to fall at your side."
Kairo didn't reply. He only cried silently, his face buried in her shoulder.
And far above them, at the temple's ceiling, a crimson crack glowed. And within it, something stirred.