Kieran's fingers wrapped around the third fragment. A surge of power flared through his body—unlike the first or second, this one didn't only empower him. It whispered. Not in words, but in sensations. In instincts. It was as though the fragment was trying to show him something.
His surroundings faded.
Darkness.
He stood within an expanse where light couldn't reach. A place beyond time, beyond even the shadow of the void.
Tap. Tap.
Footsteps echoed in the distance, but he couldn't see their source. A voice spoke—not male or female, not old or young. It sounded as if it had been there long before him, and would remain long after.
"You are awakening faster than expected."
Kieran's gaze narrowed. "Who are you?"
The space shivered. In front of him, a vague silhouette emerged—a man cloaked in black, long hair flowing behind him, though his face was obscured by shadow. Red outlined his eyes. The pressure from his presence nearly brought Kieran to his knees.
Kieran's heart froze.
"Is it you…?" His voice was low. "Are you Sylas? Are you the one who possessed me before?"
The figure did not answer. It only stared. Kieran stepped forward, emotions welling in his throat—fear, confusion, hope.
"Answer me!" Kieran's voice cracked.
The man tilted his head slightly, as if curious.
"Possession? No… That is not the word for it."
"Then what was it?" Kieran's fists clenched. "Tell me. Was it you who saved me? Was it you who gave me that strength when I should've died?"
Silence.
Then, the man turned, walking away into the void.
"When you are ready to accept the truth—not just seek it—I will be waiting."
The world shattered like glass.
Kieran gasped, stumbling back into the physical world. The third fragment pulsed in his hand, quiet and heavy. He stared at it, thoughts racing.
"That wasn't a dream," he muttered. "That wasn't just an illusion."
He looked down at the fragment. Something within it felt alive—like it had seen everything he had, and more.
Before he could think further, he heard a voice. A familiar one.
"Still alive, huh?"
Kieran turned swiftly. A man in his late fifties approached, wearing worn armor, his white beard wild and his eyes kind yet fierce.
"…Gareth?"
A smile tugged at the man's mouth. "I told you not to die before I did."
Kieran couldn't help it—he rushed forward and embraced the man who had raised him. The only one who never looked at his red eyes with fear. The only one who called him boy, not Voidborne.
"You found me again," Kieran whispered.
Gareth stepped back, gripping his shoulders. "Of course I did. I always do. Word travels. You've been shaking the world, Kieran."
"I've found the third fragment," Kieran said, his voice steady. "But it's not just power, Gareth. There's… someone tied to it. A man who—"
"Looks like you?" Gareth guessed.
Kieran blinked. "Yes."
"I figured this would happen eventually," Gareth said, turning and sitting on a rock. "Kieran… Sylas didn't just disappear. He split himself. Fragments, pieces of consciousness—he embedded them across this world. Some in guardians. Some in the dagger. Some… maybe in you."
Kieran's breath caught.
"Then it was him."
"Maybe. Or a piece of him. Sylas was beyond mortal by the end. He didn't just wield power. He was it."
Kieran sat beside him, shoulders heavy.
"I don't know if I'm ready," he said softly.
"You're never ready," Gareth replied. "You just keep going anyway. That's what makes you different."
For a moment, there was silence between them. A peaceful one.
Kieran stood again, gazing at the horizon. "I'll need to go. The fourth fragment's out there."
Gareth smiled. "Then go. But remember this—no matter what power you carry, you're not alone."