Lycius stood at the precipice, the city's pulse thrumming beneath his feet. It had changed since the last time he felt its rhythm—a darkness clung to the air now, heavier, as if the sky itself had been tainted by forgotten whispers. His breath came slow, deep, trying to steady himself in a world that felt more like a dream than reality.
His eyes scanned the streets—streets that once gleamed with the light of a thousand hopeful lives, now crumbling beneath the weight of something ancient and insidious. The crimson veins pulsed, a deep, blood-red rhythm that hummed through the very earth. It was the heartbeat of the city. The lifeblood. And it was failing.
He could feel it now. That which had been hidden beneath the surface. The sickness. The corruption. He had heard it in the whispers, felt it in the tremors that shook his bones. But now, it was as if his senses had been peeled back, revealing the true, raw underbelly of the world.
It was never meant to be like this.
The words came unbidden, a thought that sliced through him like a shard of ice. He could feel the weight of them, each syllable anchoring him to the place where destiny and choice collided.
A figure appeared before him, draped in shadows as always, her eyes glowing with a crimson light that mirrored the veins beneath the earth. Her lips parted in a smile, unsettling in its tranquility.
"You feel it too," she said, her voice soft but laden with something far older than the city itself. "The city is awakening. The veins stir, the earth trembles. The price for your defiance has been paid."
Lycius clenched his fists, the tension in his body coiling like a spring ready to snap. "I never asked for this," he spat. "I never asked for any of it."
She tilted her head, her expression unreadable, yet something in her eyes told him that she had expected this response all along. "It is not about asking, Lycius. It never was. The pulse was always there. You have merely become aware of it."
A shiver ran down his spine as the ground beneath them quaked, the crimson veins glowing brighter with each tremor. The air was thick, suffocating. Every heartbeat was a reminder of the fragile balance that hung in the balance.
"What is it?" he asked, his voice raw with a mix of frustration and fear. "What do you want from me?"
She stepped closer, and Lycius instinctively took a step back, but the weight of her presence kept him grounded, tethered to the moment. "I want nothing from you, Lycius. What's coming cannot be stopped. The city is a wound that cannot heal. And you, foolish one, have torn it open."
Her words hung in the air like a death knell. He wanted to turn away, to run, but something in the silence stopped him. It was as if the city itself held him captive.
"You don't understand," he murmured. "I was trying to save someone. I was trying to do what was right."
The woman's eyes softened for a moment, but only for a flicker. Her voice remained steady. "You think you act for others, but in the end, it is always for yourself. You seek redemption for a sin you cannot even name. The city is but a reflection of your choices, Lycius. It bears the weight of your decisions."
The words pierced through him. What had he done? What had he truly broken?
The pulse beneath the city grew louder, filling his ears with a sound like a thousand heartbeats echoing through the void. The crimson veins trembled, like the final breath of a dying world. The city was alive—and it was bleeding.
It is bleeding because of you.
Lycius sank to his knees, the weight of her words crashing into him like a tidal wave. He had thought himself a hero, but now he saw the truth: his actions had set something in motion that could not be undone.
He looked up at the woman. She stood before him, an embodiment of the city's rage and sorrow, a reminder that some forces could never be tamed.
"This is the cost of defiance," she whispered, her voice soft but unyielding. "You will see it all. The end that you have brought."
A strange calm overtook him, as if the last fragments of his former self were being stripped away, leaving only the truth. The world was dying—and it was his fault.
Lycius's eyes widened as the city's pulse surged beneath him, a wave of energy so powerful it seemed to vibrate the air itself. He could hear the whispers again, louder, angrier. But there was something else. A new voice, rising above the rest.
You are not alone.
The words were faint at first, but they grew clearer, like a memory trying to surface from the depths of a forgotten past. He could feel it now—a presence, just beyond his reach, guiding him forward. A flicker of something—someone—he had known once, long ago.
Before he could grasp it, the world around him shattered once more.
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