The storm had passed, leaving behind only the endless sigh of the wind.
Ardyn stood for a long time without moving. His cloak clung to him, heavy with dust. The horizon stretched into nothingness, gray upon gray, a wasteland that might once have been a kingdom. The ground beneath his boots was cracked and uneven, scattered with fragments of marble and bone. Every step he took seemed to echo in a world that had forgotten sound.
The sword at his side pulsed faintly, like a living thing asleep in his grasp.
For a moment, he wondered if this was still death.
The sky above was not a sky at all. It hung motionless, a dome of pale stone veined with faint lines of light, as if the heavens had been carved open and stitched back together by a careless god. The wind had no scent, no warmth. It simply moved, carrying whispers that were not quite words.
Ardyn turned slowly in a full circle. There was nothing. No city, no sun, no shadow of life. Only the remnants of something vast and broken.
Then, faintly, he heard a sound.
It was distant, almost lost beneath the breath of the wind. A soft, hollow rhythm. Not a voice, not a cry. Footsteps.
His fingers tightened on the hilt of the sword. The weapon's dull edge gleamed for a moment as the faint light around it shifted.
The footsteps drew closer, steady, deliberate, echoing through the emptiness.
A shape appeared through the haze. Human, or close enough. It walked with a slight limp, wrapped in tattered cloth from head to toe. A hood shadowed its face, but Ardyn could see the glint of metal underneath — chains coiled around its arms, fused to its flesh.
The figure stopped several paces away. The air between them grew colder.
"You carry light," the stranger said. The voice was rough, broken, but unmistakably human. "Old light. Dead light."
Ardyn kept silent.
The figure tilted its head, as if studying him. "You should not be here. No one crosses the Ruined Plain and lives."
"I didn't cross it," Ardyn said quietly. "I woke here."
That seemed to give the stranger pause. The wind stirred again, lifting the edges of his cloak.
"Then you are either blessed," the man murmured, "or cursed."
Ardyn's eyes narrowed. "And which are you?"
The figure laughed once, a sound dry as bone. "Both. We all are."
He raised a hand. The chains on his arm rattled, and for the first time Ardyn noticed faint glyphs etched into the metal, glowing faintly with reddish light. The air trembled around them.
The sword in Ardyn's hand warmed, reacting to something unseen.
A line of golden text shimmered faintly before his eyes.
Remnant resonance detected.
Entity classification: Aberrant.
Threat level: Minor.
His pulse slowed. So the System was still active.
The man stepped closer. His face came into view — or what was left of it. Half of his skin was gone, replaced by cracked, porcelain-like plating that pulsed faintly beneath the surface. One of his eyes glowed dull red. The other was human and filled with exhaustion.
"You're not one of the Faithless," he said after a moment. "You have no mark."
"I had one," Ardyn replied. "Heaven took it back."
The stranger's gaze lingered on him, unreadable. Then he lowered his hand and turned away.
"Come," he said. "The wind carries the smell of the Hollow. We shouldn't linger."
Ardyn hesitated. "And where are we going?"
The man glanced over his shoulder. "Shelter. Or what's left of it."
Ardyn followed.
They walked in silence. The ground shifted beneath their steps, turning from cracked stone to black sand that swallowed sound. The sky dimmed, and faint motes of light began to drift through the air like falling ash.
"Who are you," Ardyn finally asked.
The man didn't look back. "No one. Not anymore. Once, I was a priest."
Ardyn's grip tightened on his sword.
"A priest of what?"
The man chuckled softly. "Same as you, by the look of it. The Light."
Ardyn said nothing.
They climbed a slope of broken stone. At its peak, the land fell away into a shallow basin. Ruins lay scattered below, half-buried in the sand — fragments of columns, cracked statues, the twisted remains of metal structures. At the center of the basin stood what looked like the ribs of a giant creature, bleached white and glistening faintly in the dim light.
"The bones of a god," the man said quietly. "One of the first to fall. We call this place the Hollow."
He descended the slope with practiced ease. Ardyn followed more slowly, his eyes scanning the horizon.
The closer they drew to the ribcage, the colder the air became. A faint hum filled the silence, the same tone Ardyn had heard in the void before awakening. It vibrated in his bones.
The man led him beneath the curve of the ribs. Within the hollow space, a small camp had been built — a ring of stone walls and tattered cloth, dimly lit by glowing shards embedded in the ground. Two other figures sat near a crude fire that gave no heat, their faces hidden by masks of bone.
The man gestured toward them. "The last of my kind. Or so we believe."
One of the masked figures looked up. "Another wanderer?"
"Found him on the plain," the man replied. "He bears a Remnant."
That drew a reaction. The second masked figure straightened, voice sharp with disbelief. "A living bearer?"
The first nodded slowly. "It's been years since one appeared."
Ardyn stepped forward. "What do you mean by bearer?"
The man turned to him. "You don't know?"
"I woke with this system inside me," Ardyn said. "It called me the Heretic of the First Light."
The man's expression shifted. "Then you carry the Remnant of Defiance."
He crouched beside the fire, tracing a symbol in the dust. "The gods shattered long ago. When they fell, their power splintered into fragments. Each piece found a host, a bearer. Most were consumed. Some survived. Those who do are hunted."
"By who?"
"The remnants of Heaven. The angels that still walk these lands, the False Churches, the zealots who serve the Voice."
Ardyn frowned. "And you?"
The man gave a faint smile. "We are the Forsaken. Those who prayed and were never answered."
He reached into his cloak and drew out a small shard of crystal. It pulsed weakly, releasing a pale light. "This is a Remnant's echo. The last breath of a god. Even a fragment like this can keep a man alive for a time."
Ardyn stared at the shard. The energy within it felt familiar, a faint echo of the power that now pulsed within him.
The man placed it beside the fire. "You should rest. Dawn will not come, but the Hollow is quiet for now."
Ardyn didn't move. His gaze drifted to the bones above them, massive and still glowing faintly in the dim light.
"Why are they called gods?" he asked after a moment. "They seem more like prisoners."
The man looked up at the bones as well. "Perhaps that is what gods truly are. Prisoners of their own creation."
The camp fell silent again.
For a while, Ardyn watched the fire that did not burn. The System's faint letters still hovered at the edge of his sight, dim and silent. He reached out mentally, testing the connection.
Remnant System active.
Status: Stable.
Energy source: Fragmented Divinity.
Available functions: Basic identification, resonance detection, memory trace.
He focused on the last term. The words shimmered briefly, and his vision blurred.
A flash of light tore through his mind. Images burst behind his eyes — wings burning, cities falling, a figure of light screaming as its halo cracked. Then, a whisper.
You cannot escape the light you carry.
Ardyn staggered, gripping his temple. The man looked up sharply. "Are you all right?"
"It speaks," Ardyn murmured. "The Remnant. It remembers."
The man's expression darkened. "Then you should be careful. Memory is a dangerous gift. Too much of it can turn you into what you once destroyed."
Ardyn sat in silence, the words echoing in his head.
He had defied Heaven, and now he carried a fragment of its light within him. The irony was not lost on him.
After a while, the others lay down to rest. The sound of the wind filled the hollow, steady and low.
Ardyn remained awake.
The sword at his side pulsed again, brighter this time. He turned his gaze toward the wasteland beyond the ribs. The horizon shimmered faintly, as if something massive was moving in the distance.
Remnant resonance detected.
Entity classification: Unknown.
Proximity: Approaching.
He rose slowly, hand resting on the hilt. The camp remained still, unaware. The faint hum in the air deepened into a vibration that shook the sand.
The stranger stirred in his sleep, murmuring something Ardyn could not hear.
Then the light appeared.
It came from the horizon, a slow, deliberate glow crawling across the plain. It was not sunlight. It was too cold, too white, like the reflection of bone.
A sound followed, a low groan that seemed to come from beneath the ground.
Ardyn's heart quickened.
The System's letters flared sharply before his eyes.
Warning: Celestial anomaly detected.
Classification: Fallen Seraph fragment.
Recommended action: Evade.
The light grew brighter. Shapes began to emerge within it, wings torn and faces hollow, their halos cracked and flickering. They moved without sound, gliding above the sand like ghosts of broken stars.
Ardyn drew his sword. The blade responded, flaring with a pale, defiant glow.
The others awoke at last. Panic spread through the camp as the glowing forms drew near.
"They've found us," one of them whispered.
The man who had guided Ardyn to the Hollow stood, eyes wide with fear. "Run. They can smell the Remnant on you."
Ardyn's grip tightened. The sword hummed, light surging up the blade.
"I've run enough," he said quietly.
He stepped forward as the first of the fallen angels descended. The ground cracked beneath the weight of its presence. Its face was a ruin of light and shadow, its voice a whisper of broken hymns.
The System flared once more.
Remnant synchronization initiated.
Authority of Defiance active.
Power surged through him, bright and raw. The air rippled, and the ground split beneath his feet. The angel reached for him, claws of light tearing through the air, but Ardyn met it head-on.
The clash was silent.
Light against light.
The glow of the fallen Seraph flared and then shattered, fragments of radiance scattering like dying stars.
When the silence returned, Ardyn stood alone amid the wreckage, the blade in his hand still burning faintly.
The others stared at him, wide-eyed.
He looked at the horizon, where more lights were beginning to rise.
"This world may have forgotten Heaven," he murmured, "but Heaven has not forgotten it."
He sheathed the sword and turned back toward the camp.
"Get ready," he said. "They're coming."