The forest at night was never meant to be a safe place. Even before the fall of his village, Edrin had heard the old warnings—wolves that hunted in silence, branches that moved without wind, whispers that carried sickness if you listened too long.
But now, with his chest still aching from the Astral flare that had burned through him, the forest felt different. Every leaf gleamed faintly as if starlight lived within its veins. Every shadow seemed deeper, heavier. He wasn't sure if the forest had changed, or if his sight had.
Liora pressed ahead, her blade drawn. The edge still glimmered faintly from the light it had absorbed when she struck the Harvester. She hadn't said a word since they left the ruins, but Edrin could read the stiffness in her shoulders. She was afraid—afraid of him, of what she had seen.
Finally, he couldn't bear the silence.
"You saw it, didn't you?" he asked.
Her stride didn't slow. "I saw you survive. That's all."
Edrin clenched his fists. "No. You saw the light. You saw me burn that thing out of existence. That wasn't survival. That was… something else."
At last she stopped and turned, her eyes sharp in the pale glow of the moons. "Yes. I saw. And that's exactly why we shouldn't be standing here arguing. Do you have any idea what that means?"
"I'm trying to understand!" he snapped. The echo of his voice rattled through the trees, and he winced, lowering it. "For years, we've been told no one can escape a Harvester. But I did. Doesn't that mean—"
"It means you're cursed," she cut in, her voice low and bitter. "Do you think the Astral Council will just… ignore this? A soul they failed to reap? You're an error, Edrin. And the Council does not tolerate errors."
Her words hit harder than any blade. He swallowed, his throat dry.
"Then what am I supposed to do? Just lie down and let them finish the job?"
"You run," Liora said simply. "You hide. And if you're smart, you keep that light buried so deep it never shows again."
But even as she said it, Edrin saw doubt flicker across her face. She knew it wouldn't be that easy.
Hours later, they found shelter in the hollow of a fallen tree, the night wind howling outside. Edrin sat with his knees pulled close, staring at the faint pulse of silver that still glimmered beneath his skin. He pressed his palm against it, wishing it would vanish. Instead, it throbbed brighter, as if mocking him.
He remembered the Harvester's face—the crack in its mask, the burst of light, the scream.
He should have felt guilty. Instead, he felt something else. A terrible, dangerous satisfaction.
Liora sat across from him, sharpening her blade in silence. The rhythmic scrape of stone against metal was oddly comforting. At last, she spoke without looking up.
"My father once told me that souls are fuel. That's all. The Council feeds on them to keep the stars burning. If that's true…" She paused, narrowing her eyes at him. "Then what are you?"
Edrin had no answer.
The next day, the forest opened into a clearing. At its center stood an ancient stone monolith, weathered and cracked, covered in runes so old even moss struggled to cling to them. A faint glow pulsed within its carvings, as if it remembered its purpose even after centuries.
Liora froze, her eyes widening. "A Beacon."
Edrin frowned. "What's that?"
"It's… dangerous," she whispered. "These were built by the Council. They act as anchors, mapping the flow of souls across the mortal realm. If we're near one, then—"
Her words cut off as the air shivered. The runes blazed to life, light spilling outward.
Edrin's heart stopped. Above the monolith, a lantern flickered into existence—vast, spectral, hanging in the air like a phantom sun. Its glass shimmered with trapped sparks, each one a soul writhing in silence.
And beneath it, a figure stepped through the glow.
Not a Remnant.
Not a mortal.
Another Harvester.
Its mask was unbroken, its robes flowing with astral fire. The lantern in its hand burned with blinding radiance, its chains rattling like thunder.
Liora cursed under her breath, dragging Edrin backward. "They've already marked you. We need to run—now."
But the Harvester's head tilted toward them, and its voice echoed like a thousand whispers woven together.
"The error walks. The error breathes. The error will be undone."
The lantern flared. The souls within screamed.
Edrin's knees buckled, pain lancing through his chest. The silver light inside him answered, surging upward against his will. He cried out, clutching his ribs, as if something inside him was trying to claw its way free.
The Harvester raised its lantern higher. The clearing drowned in white fire
Edrin thought he would be consumed. Instead, the silver light exploded outward, forming a dome around him and Liora. The fire crashed against it, sparks scattering like meteors.
The Harvester staggered back, its mask turning slightly—surprise, however faint, in its movements.
Liora stared at Edrin in disbelief. "You're resisting its lantern. That's… that's impossible."
Edrin was barely standing. His vision blurred, every heartbeat like thunder in his skull. "Then maybe… maybe I'm not the one who's wrong."
The Harvester extended its hand, and a blade of pure light formed in its grip.
The fight was only beginning.
The ground trembled as the Harvester's blade descended, cleaving through soil and stone with a hiss of light. Trees split in half, their trunks burning from the astral heat. Liora dragged Edrin back, her voice sharp with urgency.
"You can't hold it forever!" she shouted.
Edrin's silver aura flickered, dimming like a dying flame. Yet inside the terror, something else surged—a stubborn defiance. He wasn't ready to vanish, not when he'd just tasted the truth of what he was.
His lips curled into a grim smile.
"Then I'll learn to fight back."
The lantern above them wailed, and the night itself seemed to bend in anticipation of the coming clash.