✦ CHAPTER NINE
The Unraveling
Back in the Citadel, the torches had gone dark.
Every lantern — every soul prison — flickered white with panic.
Kaelith stood alone in the ruined Chamber of Atonement, dust swirling around him. Where Eryndor, Seris, and Theron had vanished, a thin crack remained — a scar in reality.
Reapers gathered at the doorway, trembling.
"High Reaper," one of them said, "the anomaly is gone. The Free Gate is active."
Kaelith didn't answer.
He walked to the collapsed wall, brushing dust from ancient runes he had once carved.
Theron had escaped.
And worse — Eryndor had chosen him.
Kaelith closed his eyes.
For the first time in centuries, fear crawled down his spine.
Theron is free.
But fear lasted only a moment.
Then came resolve.
"Begin Protocol Unmaking."
The Reapers gasped.
"That weapon was never meant to—"
Kaelith turned. His power flooded the room.
"I did not request a debate."
The Reaper bowed. "Yes, High Reaper."
Kaelith walked toward the inner vaults, passing rows of soul lanterns. Most held faint, flickering lights.
One lantern, larger and blacker than the rest, whispered.
Kaelith approached it slowly.
A voice slid into his thoughts like cold oil.
Finally.
Kaelith clenched his jaw. "I stored you here to be forgotten."
And yet… here you are.
Kaelith placed his hand against the lantern. Darkness writhed within it.
"This is temporary. I need only your power."
The soul inside chuckled — low and hungry.
Break the seal. Unleash me. And I will unmake your fears.
Kaelith hesitated.
Just long enough.
Then —
CRACK.
The lantern shattered.
Black flame erupted, consuming the vault in a cyclone of shadow. When the smoke cleared, a figure stood within the ruins — gaunt, but smiling.
Tattered robes. Eyes like split void.
"The Unmaker," Kaelith whispered.
The creature bowed.
"You freed me, Kaelith. I am yours to command."
Kaelith straightened.
"Find the Harbinger. Kill Theron. Bring Eryndor back alive."
The creature dipped its head.
"As you wish."
And vanished.
✦
The Free Realms
The gate roared behind them, fully open now — a massive arch of light spilling energy into the floating ruins.
Eryndor, Seris, and Theron stood before it, wind rippling around them.
Souls drifted overhead, curious, peaceful.
Seris looked around, wide-eyed. "We're really doing this, huh? Running from a literal death god with our new… soul monarch?"
Theron corrected softly, "Eryndor is not a monarch."
Seris raised an eyebrow. "Feels monarch-ish."
Eryndor ignored them both. He couldn't stop staring at the gate. It hummed — not audibly, but in his bones.
Every part of him felt pulled.
Theron watched him carefully.
"You feel the call of the Gate."
Eryndor didn't deny it. "It wants me to step through."
"It wants you to choose." Theron's voice softened. "The Gate leads to the core. The place where afterlives are forged. A Harbinger can rewrite the fate of souls."
Seris blinked. "Rewrite… how?"
Eryndor met Theron's gaze.
Theron said it plainly.
"You could destroy the Reaper Order."
Silence fell.
Seris swallowed. "Okay. That's… a lot."
Eryndor took a shaky breath. "If I go through that gate… I decide what happens to every soul?"
Theron nodded.
"Yes."
Eryndor's heart pounded.
He didn't want that kind of power.
He didn't want to be a god.
He just wanted to help.
Before he could speak, the sky went dark.
Wind stopped.
Every free soul froze.
Theron spun sharply. "No—"
A tear in reality ripped open above them — jagged, violent, wrong.
A figure stepped through.
The air died.
Not Reaper.
Not soul.
Something older.
Something hungry.
Theron swore under his breath.
"Unmaker."
The creature smiled, revealing rows of teeth like broken glass.
"Hello, Theron."
Seris grabbed Eryndor's arm. "Friend of yours?"
Theron stepped forward, chains swirling around his fists. "He was created to be the opposite of me. Where I guide, he devours."
The Unmaker tilted his head, sniffing the air.
"You freed him."
His gaze slid to Eryndor.
"And you are the Harbinger."
It moved — too fast to see.
One moment, it was ten paces away.
The next, it was inches from Eryndor's face.
"You smell like destiny."
Eryndor summoned his scythe by instinct, blade igniting with white flame.
The Unmaker didn't flinch.
It leaned closer, whispering,
"I can taste your fear."
Eryndor swung.
The scythe passed through the Unmaker's form without resistance, like cutting through smoke.
Then the creature reformed behind him, whispering:
"You cannot kill what was never alive."
Theron struck — chains snapping out like lightning — but the Unmaker caught them, wrapping shadows around them like a noose.
Seris was already sprinting toward Eryndor.
Theron shouted, "ERYNDOR— RUN!"
"No," Eryndor snapped back. "I'm done running."
The Unmaker smiled wider.
"Oh good. I do like when they fight."
It lunged.
Eryndor raised his marked hand.
The sigil flared.
Light exploded outward, blasting the creature backward into the ruins. For the first time, the Unmaker looked surprised.
"You wield it without training," it hissed. "That power should have torn you apart."
Eryndor stood his ground.
"I don't need training."
He pointed to his chest.
"I have a reason."
The Unmaker snarled.
Theron's voice dropped to a whisper. "He's adapting. We need the Gate."
Eryndor felt the pull again.
If he stepped through…
Everything changed.
No more Reapers.
No more judgment.
Souls free — forever.
But once he did, he couldn't come back.
Seris grabbed his hand, voice steady despite the shaking.
"We choose together. Whatever happens."
Eryndor nodded.
Theron faced the Unmaker.
"I will hold him."
The creature laughed. "You will fail."
Theron smiled — a rare, dangerous expression.
"I was chained for a thousand years. I learned patience."
He struck.
Chains wrapped the Unmaker, binding it in a cage of light and shadow. The creature howled.
"GO!" Theron commanded.
Eryndor and Seris ran toward the Gate.
The Unmaker thrashed, shrieking, tearing at the bindings.
"You think destiny protects you?" it roared. "You will doom the world!"
Eryndor looked back once.
Theron met his eyes.
"Be the choice."
Eryndor stepped into the Gate.