The world was no longer quiet.
Kael walked through the fog-choked ruins, his boots dragging against the cracked stones. Every sound seemed too loud—the scrape of metal, the rasp of his breath, the slow heartbeat that no longer felt entirely his own.When he closed his eyes, he could still see it: the chasm of light, the formless eyes, the moment the void had spoken his name.
He should have died.He wanted to.But instead, the world had folded around him, whispering promises he didn't understand.
The survivor
Only one figure remained from the cult.The woman—her hood torn, her silver eyes dimmed—followed him at a distance. Her name, she said, was Serah.
She had once been a scholar of the old faith, a seeker of gods. Now she was something else, something hollowed and rebuilt by the same voice that haunted him.
"You carry the mark," she told him as they climbed the ridge beyond the ruins. "The void does not choose lightly."
Kael laughed bitterly."Chosen? I was cursed."
"A curse is only a gift that has forgotten its purpose," she replied softly.
They walked in silence after that, the path twisting through broken statues and dead fields. The air was colder here, thinner, like the world itself was afraid to breathe.
At night, Kael dreamed of the temple again—the black blood, the runes, the whisper that became a scream. But when he woke, his eyes burned with faint gold light, and the wounds on his body had already begun to close.
He didn't ask why. He was afraid to know.
The crossing
Three nights later they reached the edge of the Ashen Expanse—a desolate plain of cracked obsidian that stretched to the horizon. In the distance, Kael could see the faint shimmer of a city—towers like broken teeth, swallowed by smoke.
Serah stopped and turned to him.
"That was once Eryndor, the city of kings. Where the Crown was forged. Where your bloodline began."
Kael froze."My bloodline?"
"You think the void calls names at random?" she said, her voice trembling. "Your family was among the first to bind its power. You are not its slave, Kael—you are its heir."
He felt the word strike deep, like a knife twisting in his chest. Heir.He'd been an orphan, a mercenary, a killer. Never anything more.And yet, something inside him remembered.
The voice returned then, soft and almost gentle:"Blood remembers what the mind forgets."
Kael fell to one knee, gripping his head. The world blurred; visions came in flashes—fire, a black crown burning in a man's hand, a woman's scream lost in the dark.
Serah knelt beside him, touching his shoulder.
"Don't fight it. Let the memories come."
He snarled, pushing her hand away. "They're not mine!"
"They will be," she whispered. "Soon enough."
The sky above them cracked with thunder.
The pact
That night, they camped among the ruins of an ancient bridge. The stars were gone, veiled behind gray clouds, and the air hummed faintly with energy. Kael sat by the fire, staring into the flames, seeing shapes move within them—faces, eyes, wings made of shadow.
Serah sat across from him, hands clasped, lips moving in a silent prayer.
"Why do you still pray?" he asked.
"Because the void listens," she said. "Even if it doesn't answer."
Kael smirked. "And what do you ask for?"
"Forgiveness."
"For what?"
"For bringing you back."
The words hit him like a blade. "What did you say?"
"When the temple collapsed, you were dead," she said quietly. "Your heart had stopped. I used the blood of the void to call you back. You were never meant to wake."
Kael stared at her, unable to speak. The fire flickered between them, casting red light across her face.
"You wanted a weapon," he said finally. "And you made me one."
Serah didn't deny it.
"The Crown demands a vessel. I only gave it what it was already taking."
He rose to his feet, sword half-drawn. "Then I should kill you where you stand."
"You could try," she said, eyes glinting. "But you'd only prove you're what they made you."
The wind roared suddenly, scattering the ashes of the fire.Kael stopped. His hand trembled.He could feel it again—the pulse of the void, the heat under his skin, the hunger.
The voice murmured, sweet and venomous:"She is not your enemy, Kael. She is your mirror."
He sheathed his sword slowly.
"Tomorrow," he said, his voice low, "you tell me everything. About the Crown. About me. Or I'll burn what's left of this cursed world."
Serah bowed her head.
"Tomorrow," she whispered. "But once you know, there will be no going back."
Kael turned away, staring into the endless night, the wind carrying the sound of distant wings.
For a moment, he thought he saw them again — the eyes of the void, burning gold in the dark.And deep within his chest, something ancient and patient smiled.