Stone grinds beneath my torn gloves as I heave another slab away.
Dust boils up, a caustic cloud thick enough to make my eyes water and sting.
My focus narrows, shrinking the world down to the scrape of rock on rock.
My heartbeat pounds a raw rhythm in my ears—a desperate, driving thud… thud… thud…
Each beat is a plea for speed.
Each ragged breath is a silent prayer.
The universe contracts to this single, primal motion: lift, throw, dig.
The voices calling me are distant, faint—mere ghostly echoes lost in the choking smoke.
John, Daren, Nicholas, Gareth… I think they shout my name.
But I don't register the sounds. Not really.
All I hear is the frantic hammer of my pulse.
All I see is the mountain of suffocating rubble.
All I feel is the burning, vital need for her.
Then—
Something pale pierces the veil of dust.
A hand.
Small. Utterly still.
My own hand freezes where it grips the stone.
A cold vice seizes my throat, crushing the air from my lungs.
No…
I snatch at the shattered rock with trembling, frantic fingers and rip it aside.
Another piece clatters down. Then another.
Slowly, agonizingly, two shapes solidify in the newly revealed void.
Mia's mother lies on top, her body contorted in a final, protective arc over the smaller figure beneath.
Her arms are splayed wide, a desperate shield against the falling ceiling.
But her spine snaps at an unnatural angle, half her face crushed beneath a slab of gray slate.
Her eyes—once so kind, so warm—stare now, glassy and vacant, at the dust-choked sky.
And beneath her…
"Mia…"
My voice shatters as I sink to my knees.
Her signature red cloak is ripped and blackened with ash.
Her fragile body is pinned by the debris; ribs are caved inward, one slender arm bends the wrong way.
A sickening pool of crimson stains the fabric where her chest should rise and fall—but it doesn't move.
Her eyes are sealed.
Her lips are slightly parted, frozen in the middle of a word, as if she called my name when the world collapsed.
I reach out. My fingers tremble as they brush her dirt-streaked cheek.
Cold.
No warmth.
No pulse.
No life.
The entire world shudders to a stop.
For a long, suspended moment, I stare—I wait for a sign, a tremor, a hopeful lie.
Anything to break the silence.
But nothing comes.
Behind me, the crunch of footsteps grows closer.
John's voice, a low, broken rasp, cuts through the stillness.
"Kael… I'm sorry. We—"
"Don't."
The single word slips out, sharp and final as a dropped blade.
He falls instantly silent.
The others halt where they stand, keeping a wide, fearful distance.
Even the thick, heavy air feels afraid to move.
Something vital inside me begins to unwind.
Slowly. Quietly.
I lower my head until my forehead rests against hers.
"I promised I'd protect you…" My voice catches, a raw, choking sound. "I promised…"
A laugh.
Low. Deep.
It thunders through my skull, a seismic rumble crawling over stone.
"Hehehehe…"
That sound—no human throat could produce it.
It's the kind of laughter that doesn't reach the ears; it seeps into the marrow of my bones.
No one would ever believe that the mighty Noctharion, devourer of souls, laughs like that.
"What's wrong, Kael?"
"Why are you trembling?"
His voice slithers through my mind, a toxic blend of velvet and venom.
"Shut up…" I gasp, clutching my head.
"Just… shut up…"
"You are crying," he says, nearly amused.
"You knew this would happen."
"What?" My voice cracks in my own mind. "What are you talking about?"
"You knew, Kael. You couldn't protect her. No—you didn't even try."
The words slice through me, sharper than any blade.
"That's not true!" I shout back inside my head, my body shaking. "I—I was protecting her!"
"Protecting? If you truly want to protect her, you would be here with her.
Not outside the walls, bathing in the blood of monsters."
My hand clenches around empty air.
Nails dig into my palm until I taste blood.
"No… you're wrong…"
Behind me, John glances over from where he helps the wounded.
"Kael? Are you okay?"
But his voice feels far away.
Like an echo from another dimension.
"Answer me, Kael," Noctharion murmurs, a sly smile in his tone.
"Why are you outside, killing?"
"I am fighting them to protect everyone!"
"Protect?"
He scoffs—a sound that reverberates through the very stone of the chamber walls.
"So tell me… how many do you save?"
My breath catches.
The air turns dense, viscous.
"None, isn't it?"
He presses, softly now, his voice dripping with false pity.
"You fight not to protect. You fight because it's all you know.
Because the thrill, the blood, the struggle—it makes you feel alive."
My stomach twists.
He lies. He has to be lying.
But the words… they settle too easily.
Around me, the temperature plummets.
John shivers and looks around, his breath visible in the frigid air.
Daren and Nicholas glance toward the walls, gripping their weapons tight.
Even Gareth frowns, sensing the wrongness in the atmosphere.
The torches flicker, casting shadows that stretch unnaturally long.
A faint sound of whispering fills the silence—as if the room itself listens.
"Kael," the voice purrs.
"Do you know why you failed?"
I bite my lip, hard.
Blood trickles down my chin.
"I… I couldn't save her… There were too many… even if I was here—"
"—you would have died with her."
The voice finishes for me, cold and absolute.
"And yet you call that protection?"
My vision shakes.
My chest burns with an internal fire.
Tears fall now, hot and unrelenting.
"Oh, Kael… you foolish mortal. Do you know what you lack the most?"
I don't answer.
My mind is a storm—pain claws through my skull, burning, twisting.
I clutch my head, trembling violently as a scream tears from my throat.
John, Daren, and Nicholas rush toward me, shouting my name, shaking my shoulders—but their voices feel distant, muffled, as if something blocks them out.
"Tell me, Kael… what would've happened if, instead of Mia, your precious Liana had died here?"
"No…" I gasp. Even the thought sends a shiver of horror down my spine.
"If she hadn't awakened her powers and left the fortress… she would be lying here, beside Mia—cold and broken."
"No… no, she can't die!" I shake my head again and again, the words spilling from my mouth uncontrollably. "No!"
"Then tell me, Kael," Noctharion's voice presses on, low and merciless.
"If Liana died… would you drown in grief forever, or forget her like she never mattered? What would you do?"
"Stop it… stop it!"
I see it now—Liana's lifeless body, her face torn and bloodied, her eyes wide with pain and betrayal.
The image won't fade.
It burns itself into me.
"So tell me, Kael…" Noctharion's voice grows deeper, resonating inside my chest.
"What do you need—to stop that future? To protect her?"
His words echo, drowning everything else.
The pain in my head begins to fade.
My breathing steadies.
My trembling stops.
For the first time in what feels like hours, my mind is clear.
"Hey, Kael! What's happening to you?!" John's voice reaches me faintly, but I ignore it.
I know the answer.
"Strength…" I whisper. Then louder. "Power."
A deep, sinister chuckle rumbles through my mind.
"Hahahahahaha… then devour everything, Kael."
The voice doesn't sound like temptation anymore—it sounds like truth.
Like destiny.
My lips move on their own.
I order the darkness around me.
"Devour."
The air erupts.
Darkness surges from me, writhing like a living nightmare—tendrils thrash, spreading meter by meter until it engulfs the entire chamber.
John, Nicholas, and Daren shout my name, drawing their weapons.
Workers scream.
Gareth's instincts kick in—he snatches his spear, leaping straight toward me.
But before the tip can pierce my skin, the darkness moves on its own—forming a shield, thick and pulsing.
The spear strikes it—and stops.
Gareth's eyes widen. He tries to pull back, but the shield pulses again—hungry—and the darkness wraps around his weapon, swallowing it like a beast devouring its prey.
With a curse, Gareth releases the spear and jumps back just in time as the darkness lunges toward him.
The room is chaos—screams, shadows, terror.
And in the center of it all, I stand still, my voice echoing through the void.
"Devour everything."