The battlefield was quiet.
Too quiet.
Where moments ago there had been storms of chains and the booming steps of the Keeper, now there was only dust and fragments of shattered vows drifting like snow. Ren stood at the center of it all, chest heaving, his knuckles white around the vow-chain that pulsed faintly in his grip.
Selene knelt beside him, her silver hair tangled, her hand still pressed against his arm as if afraid that if she let go, he would fade into the same dust as the Keeper.
"Ren," she whispered, her voice low, fragile. "You did it… you broke him."
Ren shook his head slowly, his eyes fixed on the spot where the Keeper had fallen. "No. I didn't break him. I broke his moon. There's a difference."
Selene's brow furrowed. "Then where is he?"
Ren's jaw tightened. He didn't answer—because he knew. That lingering pulse, that final whisper burned into his chest like an ember. The Keeper hadn't died. He had only left something behind.
The shard.
