The forest was too quiet.
The air too still.
The world too wrong.
Lyra's hands shook violently as she held Zerrei's limp form against her chest, her fingers trembling in his carved hair, her breath shattering in her throat.
He wasn't glowing.
He wasn't trembling.
He wasn't whispering her name.
He wasn't anything.
Arden stood beside her, sword lowered, eyes wide with the kind of fear he had never shown before.
"Lyra…" he whispered.
"Is he…?"
She shook her head immediately.
"No. No. No—he's not—he's not gone—he can't be—"
Her voice cracked mid-sentence.
She pressed both palms against Zerrei's hollow chest, searching desperately for the warm flicker of the core she always felt beneath her fingers.
Nothing.
No hum.
No glow.
No warmth.
It felt like holding a carved statue.
A beautiful, familiar, beloved statue.
But lifeless.
"Come on," Lyra begged, tears streaming.
"Zerrei… wake up. Open your eyes. Please…"
She shook him gently.
"Please."
Arden knelt beside her, voice trembling with rare sincerity.
"He's… probably just unconscious. Right? He's done that before. He just—needs time to reboot. Or recharge. Or whatever puppets do."
Lyra didn't look at him.
Her hands were shaking too hard.
"He always glows. Even when he sleeps. Even when he's weak… there's always something."
Arden swallowed.
"…Lyra…"
"No!" she snapped, her voice cracking into a sob. "Don't say it. Don't say anything."
Oren finally reached them, running a frantic hand through his hair as he crouched down and assessed Zerrei's body.
His face went pale immediately.
Lyra saw the look.
And she froze.
"What?" her voice was a whisper. A threat. A plea.
"What is it? Tell me."
Oren didn't answer at first.
He pulled off his gloves, hands trembling, and placed both palms gently over Zerrei's core.
He closed his eyes.
Lyra waited.
One second.
Two.
Three—
Oren recoiled sharply, falling backward onto the dirt.
Arden grabbed him.
"Oren?! What happened?!"
The mage wiped sweat from his forehead, breathing hard.
"Th-there's nothing. His core isn't humming. There's no mana pulse. No resonance."
Lyra's heart dropped.
"Then fix it!" she yelled, voice desperate.
"Fix him! Heal him! Stabilize him!"
Oren shook his head violently.
"It's not his body, Lyra.
His vessel is intact enough. The cracks can be repaired. That's not the real problem."
Lyra's blood went cold.
"Then what is it?"
Oren looked at Zerrei's face.
At the stillness.
At the silence.
At the complete absence of glow.
He whispered:
"His soul-core… has shut down."
Lyra stared.
Arden blinked.
"That…that's bad, right?"
Oren swallowed.
"Yes. Very bad."
Lyra's hands clutched Zerrei tighter.
"W-what does that mean? He's still here. I'm holding him. He's—he's here, Oren!"
Oren shook his head.
"His vessel—the physical form—is here. But the consciousness driving it…"
He hesitated.
"…is gone. Or… locked away."
Lyra's heartbeat stopped.
"…gone?"
Oren corrected quickly.
"Not gone. Not destroyed. But… silent."
Arden knelt closer.
"Like… fainted?"
Oren shook his head.
"No. Not fainted. This is something deeper. More like—"
Another hesitation.
"—like when a soul retreats inward to survive trauma."
Lyra's throat closed.
"T-trauma…?"
She looked at Zerrei's cracked chest.
At the faint scorch marks from the Creator's projection.
At the way his arms had shielded her even as he broke.
Oren took a deep breath.
"The Creator didn't hit him physically. He hit him spiritually. His projection attacked Zerrei's soul-core—the core that defines identity and choice."
Arden swore violently.
"He targeted his damn free will!"
Oren nodded grimly.
"And Zerrei used all his remaining energy to shield Lyra. Every last bit. He pushed beyond his evolutionary limit."
Lyra touched Zerrei's cheek, voice trembling violently.
"Zerrei… you didn't have to—
Why did you—"
She realized the answer instantly.
Because she was his anchor.
Because he chose her.
Because he couldn't bear the thought of losing her.
Her hands trembled against his unmoving face.
"Oren… how do we wake him?"
Oren didn't answer immediately.
And Lyra's tears fell onto Zerrei's chest.
"Please," she whispered. "Tell me."
Oren closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, they were heavy.
"There is only one way to wake a vessel whose soul has shut down."
Arden leaned forward.
"Say it."
Oren whispered the words carefully.
"You need to enter his core."
Lyra froze.
"Enter…?"
"His heart," Oren clarified.
"Not physically. Spiritually. Through resonance. Through the bond you formed."
Lyra stared at Zerrei's cracked chest.
"I can… reach him?"
Oren nodded.
"Yes. If anyone can… it's you."
Arden blinked rapidly.
"But that sounds like a death trap."
Oren didn't deny it.
Lyra wiped her eyes, steadying her breath.
"How?"
Oren exhaled.
"You need a resonance bridge. A stabilizing circle. And most importantly—his core must recognize you. Not as a companion. Not as an anchor."
Lyra frowned.
"Then how?"
Oren looked her in the eye.
"With the same energy that broke him."
Lyra stiffened.
"…his love for me?"
Oren nodded slowly.
"Yes."
Lyra's breath trembled.
Arden whispered:
"So she has to… use feelings? To reach into the puppet's soul?"
Oren nodded.
"It's the only path."
Lyra leaned down over Zerrei's chest.
She touched her forehead to his.
Her voice was a broken whisper.
"…Zerrei."
He didn't glow.
Didn't blink.
Didn't respond.
She whispered again, tears falling onto his still face.
"Let me in."
Oren began drawing the resonance circle around them.
Arden stood guard with fire in his eyes.
And Lyra pressed her hands over Zerrei's silent core.
"I'm coming to find you."
She closed her eyes—
and the world around her shattered into light.