Chapter 47 – Fractures in the Soul, the Flame That Does Not Die
Previously…
Enver purified a man who corrupted justice through the games of sport. Yet the holy being that descended upon him did not enter the card as usual—it vanished… and merged with him instead. Now, he feels something foreign stirring within. Not just power… but a voice, one that rejects forgiveness.
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The night sky thickened, as if holding back something that refused to fall. Not rain—rather a wrath long restrained.
Enver stood atop an old building, his gaze fixed on the empty field that hours ago had been the arena of purificazione. The wind brushed through his hair, yet he remained still. Inside him, something crept—neither spirit nor astral being. He knew it well.
"That being…" he whispered. "It did not leave. It chose to remain."
Not because he lacked the strength to purify. On the contrary—the force was too deep to be recognized. Neither sin nor sanctity. It was… gray. Like a mirror reflecting the side of Enver untouched by anyone—even himself.
And within the silence, the voice returned.
"They all lied to you, Enver."
His body froze. Not from fear, but from the truth that the voice came from within his own heart. From a place that should never speak. It was not Maxcen. Not Thadric. Not even Zephyr.
It was… another version of himself.
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Elsewhere in the world, Thadric returned from exile. One by one, the Hellseer Council reclaimed their full strength. Saelmir meditated in the temple of memories, Elhara wove new dreams for the lost souls, Dorvas reforged the chains once broken by betrayal.
Yet Thadric kept one vision to himself: something he saw while drifting between reality and the void.
He had seen Enver split into two.
"One will save the world… and one will destroy it," whispered the prophecy in the mist of exile. "And they both live in the same body."
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In Maxcen's realm…
He sat upon his throne untouched by light. Around him, astral beings worshiped with chants, with primordial songs comprehensible only to souls that had died and risen again.
"They are beginning to fracture," Maxcen spoke, his smile faint. "And Enver… is beginning to see his true self."
At his side, Zephyr felt the weight of doubt amid the endless hymns. He had witnessed too many deaths. Too many unwanted resurrections.
"Are you certain he will side with you?" Zephyr asked.
Maxcen did not answer. He merely raised a finger, and the astral realm quivered.
"He does not need to choose a side. He only needs to become what he was meant to be. And tell me… in all this time, have you seen even once that I desired him to choose me?"
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Back to Enver…
He wandered the city's alleys, his steps slow yet unwavering. His cards did not glow tonight. They, too, had fallen silent—sensing the change within him.
At the end of a dark corridor, he saw a man: an old coach berating a child, forcing him to train day and night to be a "champion."
"Win. For the family. For honor. For me!"
The boy wept, his knees bloodied, yet he was forbidden to stop.
Enver approached slowly. The wind dared not touch him. The heavens gave no whisper. Yet within him, something ignited.
Suddenly, a card appeared in his hand—not summoned by him, but by the power now fused within. A sacred light, yet tainted.
"Let me be the one to purify him," the inner voice whispered.
And Enver allowed it.
When the purificazione began, there was no holy radiance. No heavenly music. There was only… black shadow.
And as the old man's spirit was torn away, it was taken neither to heaven nor to hell.
It was absorbed… into Enver himself.
"W-what is this?"
His body trembled. His eyes nearly shifted in color. For a moment, he no longer felt like himself.
And then he realized…
He was purifying without mercy. Without compassion. Without the voice of the heavens.
"Is this still purificazione… or am I becoming something else? Or something that demands something of me?"
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At the end of the night, Thadric appeared before him.
"You feel it too, don't you?" Thadric asked.
Enver's eyes gleamed.
"Yes," he replied. "I am undergoing a change… one that is not my will."
Thadric lowered his head, smiling faintly—eerily.
"This is why I restored the Council. For if you truly lose yourself… only they can stop you. Including me."
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