The chamber was silent except for the faint hiss of the fragment in Sid's hand.
It wasn't glowing, not fully, but it pulsed like a faint heartbeat—black and red veins spiraling across its surface as if it were alive.
Sid's chest rose and fell unevenly. He sat on the cold floor of the recovery hall, his palms trembling as if they no longer belonged to him. His breath burned.
"Damn it…" he whispered, clutching his wrist where the fragment's light had spread into his veins. He could feel it moving under his skin—like fire running through glass tubes, too bright, too fragile.
Nox's voice lingered in his memory. The Seven Fragments are echoes of Ravh'Zereth's sealed essence. To touch them is to court the abyss.
And yet he had touched one. No—he hadn't just touched it. He had claimed it.
The door creaked open.
Lucien stepped inside, his silver-white hair catching the dim light. He looked calm, as always, but there was a crease in his brow. "So. You're still alive."
"Barely," Sid muttered, lifting his head. His voice was rough, his throat dry. "Feels like someone poured fire through my blood."
Lucien walked closer, folding his arms. "That's what it means to hold a Fragment. You've tethered a piece of something that isn't meant for human veins. Or demon veins, for that matter."
"Then why send me?" Sid snapped. His eyes burned as he glared at Lucien. "If it kills me just to touch it, then—"
"You'd rather it fall into Hollow hands?" Lucien cut him off sharply. His tone wasn't cruel, but his words left no room for Sid's anger. "You were chosen for this because no one else could. Don't mistake that for kindness."
Sid looked away, jaw tight. Chosen. Again, always chosen. By the demon, by Nox, by powers he never asked for.
His veins burned again, and he hissed in pain. Black flame flickered faintly along his fingers before fading.
Lucien stared at that flame for a long moment before speaking again. "The fragment hasn't killed you yet. That means it's bound itself to you."
"Bound," Sid muttered bitterly. "More chains. More prisons."
Before Lucien could reply, the air shifted.
The room grew colder, a hush sweeping through like someone had drawn back a curtain between worlds.
A light appeared in the center of the chamber—soft, golden, and steady.
Lucien stiffened instantly. His hands clenched, his voice lowering into something grim. "…Baros."
Sid's eyes widened as the light twisted into form—an armored figure with a faceless helm, carrying a staff shaped like an hourglass. Sand drifted within it, falling upward and downward at once.
The figure's voice was calm, yet it echoed like an eternal bell:
"Sid Arkwood. Vessel of Ravh'Zereth. The divine eyes are upon you."
Sid froze. His body felt pinned under that voice. The flames inside him surged restlessly, as if they recognized the power standing before him.
Lucien lowered his head slightly, though his expression remained unreadable. "An emissary. Not Baros himself."
The emissary's helm turned toward Lucien.
"Faithful child of time, you have not faltered. But the vessel… must be claimed."
Sid's fists tightened. "Claimed? What the hell does that mean?"
The emissary raised the staff. The sand within the hourglass flared like stars.
"Your path is dangerous. The abyss coils within you. Left unguarded, you would fall to ruin. Thus—Baros extends His claim. His protection. His light."
Sid barked a humorless laugh, even as his chest tightened. "Protection? You mean ownership. Another leash, another cage."
"You misunderstand." The voice remained calm, but the air grew heavier.
"The gods do not chain. They shield. Without us, your soul would already be ash."
Sid rose shakily to his feet, veins still glowing faintly. "Don't act like you're doing this out of kindness. You're afraid. Afraid of what's inside me."
The emissary paused. The silence was worse than words.
Then, slowly, the helm inclined.
"Yes."
That single word hit harder than any denial.
Lucien's gaze flicked toward Sid, but he didn't speak.
Sid clenched his fists. The black flame flickered again. "So what—you'll hover over me, ready to 'shield' me the moment I lose control? That's not protection. That's a prison I can't escape."
The emissary stepped closer, the sand swirling faster. The pressure in the room doubled.
"Better a prison of light… than freedom in the abyss."
Sid's jaw trembled with anger. "Maybe I don't want either."
His voice cracked, raw. He took a step forward, glaring up at the faceless helm. "I'm not your vessel. I'm not Ravh'Zereth's vessel. I'm Sid Valehart. If you want me bound, you'll have to chain me yourself!"
The emissary lifted the staff higher. For a moment, it seemed the sands would descend and crush Sid into submission.
But then—Lucien's hand shot out, gripping Sid's shoulder.
"That's enough." His voice was sharp, but not unkind. He looked at the emissary, his silver eyes steady. "If Baros truly claims Sid, then he must walk the path by his own will. Forcing him now will break him—and Baros knows what happens if the vessel breaks."
The emissary did not reply. The sands stilled, caught between falling and rising.
Finally, the golden figure lowered the staff.
"Then the choice remains—for now. But know this, Sid Arkwood: the divine do not wait forever. The abyss grows stronger every day."
The light dimmed. The emissary vanished, leaving only silence in the chamber.
Sid sagged back against the wall, his legs weak. His hands shook uncontrollably.
Lucien exhaled slowly, lowering his head. "…You've drawn their eyes. That's dangerous. For all of us."
Sid laughed bitterly, though it sounded more like a sob. "Dangerous? You think I don't know that? First the demon, now the gods. I can't even breathe without someone trying to brand me."
Lucien's grip on his shoulder tightened slightly, then eased. "Then prove them wrong. Be more than what they think you are. Vessel or not—you still have your will."
Sid looked at him, eyes burning. For once, Lucien's calm expression cracked just slightly, enough for Sid to see the weight behind his words.
"…My will, huh." Sid muttered. He clenched his fist, watching faint black flame flicker one last time before fading into nothing.
The fragment still pulsed in his chest, but he ignored it.
For now, he had no chains.
But the prison—divine or abyssal—was waiting.
And he didn't know how long he could keep the doors shut.