The rumble beneath the mountain became a roar.
Fissures split the cavern floor like the veins of a dying god, spewing green fire and golden mist. Cled barely had time to shield his face as shards of crystal and frost tore through the air. The warmth from the Heart's ember in his palm turned searing — no longer calm, but wild, unstable.
> "So... the vessel awakens."
That voice again.
Older than the wind. Deeper than the abyss.
Cled's knees bent under the pressure as something vast began to rise from the shattered ground. A shadow, enormous and formless, coiling like smoke made of light and hunger. The fissure widened, swallowing the floor.
And from it… a hand emerged.
It was not flesh. It was darkness molded into shape — vast, clawed, and trembling with veins of green light. It reached upward, grasping the air like it sought to tear through the world itself.
Cled stumbled back, eyes blazing gold. "You shouldn't exist."
> "Neither should you."
The mountain spoke back.
Not the Heart, not a god — something deeper. The source of the fracture itself.
Then, in a shattering burst of energy, the being pulled itself free. It was tall as a tower, shape shifting between human and beast, its chest carved with glowing sigils that twisted like living scars. Its face was a void — no eyes, only cracks of emerald flame.
> "I am the First Fracture," it said. "And you, Sky Child, carry what once belonged to me."
Cled raised his dagger, though the air around it rippled violently. "The Heart warned me about you."
> "The Heart? That parasite? It bound me, turned me into myth. But myths remember."
The creature moved, its presence tearing through space like gravity inverted. Cled struck first — a golden arc of power that sliced through the haze — but the shadow raised its hand. The attack shattered like glass against it.
"Too weak," it hissed.
The next instant, Cled was thrown across the cavern, slamming into the wall hard enough to crack stone. His golden aura flickered wildly. The dagger in his hand sang with pain, fragments of light breaking off like sparks.
He forced himself up, spitting blood. "I faced judgment. I won't fall to a ghost."
The entity tilted its head.
> "You mistake judgment for mercy."
The air imploded. Shadows solidified into blades, hundreds of them, raining toward him. Cled clenched his teeth, aura erupting into a barrier of gold. The impact shattered it almost instantly, but it bought him a heartbeat — enough to move.
He vanished.
Golden trails flashed across the battlefield as he moved faster than sight. Each strike hit the shadow, each burst of light scorching the darkness — but for every wound opened, it healed twice as large.
"Why won't you break!?" Cled roared.
> "Because I am what you will become."
The words struck harder than the blows. For a split second, his own reflection appeared in the abyss — eyes green, veins dark, skin fractured like crystal.
Then the voice whispered from within him.
> "You feel it, don't you? The fracture growing…"
Cled stumbled. His hands trembled. The ember inside him pulsed violently, splitting golden light with veins of green.
"No…" He fell to one knee. "Not now…"
The shadow smiled — or something like it.
> "You cannot kill what you are becoming."
But before it could strike, the mountain screamed.
A blinding golden wave erupted from above — and the entire cavern was swallowed in brilliance.
When the light faded, the shadow was gone. Only the echo of its laughter remained.
Cled stood amid ruins, trembling. His dagger was cracked beyond repair, his aura dim. The mountain above him groaned — wounded, fading.
And deep in his chest, something whispered:
> "Soon."