The next morning, I told Lyra about the dream.
She listened in silence, her expression unreadable. When I finished, she nodded slowly.
"It's the Void," she said. "Trying to bond with you. Trying to convince you to accept it."
"I know," I said. "I know what it's doing. But that doesn't make it easier."
"It won't," she agreed. "But there's something else you need to know."
I looked at her. "What?"
"The figure in your dream," she said. "The one without a face. I think... I think it might be the previous Voidwalker."
My blood went cold. "You said he died. Five years ago."
"He did," Lyra said. "But death isn't always the end, Eren. Not for someone bonded to the Void. His soul might still be out there. Trapped in the Rift. Waiting."
"Waiting for what?"
She met my eyes. "For someone to take his place."
I stared at her. "You're telling me this thing in my head, this voice I've been hearing, it might be the soul of a dead man?"
"Maybe," she said. "Or maybe it's just the Void wearing his face. It's impossible to know for sure."
"But you said he died fighting. That he gave his life to save people. Why would he want to take my place? Why would he want me to—"
"Because he's not him anymore," Lyra said quietly. "Not completely. The Void twists things. Corrupts them. Even the most noble soul can be broken, given enough time."
I thought about that. About the figure in the field, reaching for me with its too-long fingers, whispering temptations in my ear.
"Can he be saved?" I asked. "Can his soul be freed?"
Lyra's expression flickered. "I don't know. I've never heard of it happening."
"But it could?"
She was quiet for a long moment. "Maybe. If you're strong enough. If you can resist the Void's influence and find a way to reach him."
I nodded slowly.
"Then that's what I'll do," I said. "I'll find him. And I'll save him."
Lyra looked at me with something like surprise.
"That's ambitious," she said. "Do you even know how?"
"No," I admitted. "But I'll figure it out."
And maybe it was the exhaustion, or the fear, or the stupid, stubborn hope that had kept me alive so far. But for the first time since the sky broke, I felt something other than terror.
I felt determination.
Lyra trained me that afternoon.
It started simple—breathing exercises, meditation, focusing on the hum in my chest and learning to quiet it. She told me that control started from within, that I couldn't hope to command the Void if I couldn't even command my own thoughts.
"Feel the energy," she said, sitting across from me on the safehouse floor. "Don't push it away. Don't pull it closer. Just feel it."
I closed my eyes. The hum was there, faint but constant, like a second heartbeat. I focused on it, let myself become aware of its rhythm, its texture, its presence.
"Good," Lyra said. "Now, when you're ready, try to shape it."
I frowned. "Shape it how?"
"Think of it like water," she said. "It's formless, but it can take any shape you give it. Imagine it flowing through your arm, into your hand. Out of your palm."
I tried. I really did. I imagined the energy moving, flowing, gathering at my fingertips.
Nothing happened.
"Don't force it," Lyra said. "Let it happen naturally."
I tried again. Still nothing.
"I can't," I said, frustration creeping into my voice. "I can't feel it. I can't control it."
"You can," Lyra said. "You're just not trusting yourself. You're afraid of it, so you're holding back. Stop holding back."
I opened my eyes. "What if I hurt someone? What if I lose control and—"
"Then we deal with it," Lyra said. "But you'll never learn if you don't try. Eren, I know you're scared. But you have to trust me. You have to trust yourself."
I looked at my hands. The same hands that had reached for the shadows on the rooftop. The same hands that had almost killed me.
I took a deep breath.
"Okay," I said. "Okay. I'll try."
I closed my eyes again. I focused on the hum. I let myself feel it without fear, without judgment, without trying to push it away.
And this time, when I imagined the energy flowing through my arm, I didn't fight it.
A violet light flickered at my fingertips.
I opened my eyes. There it was—a tiny, dancing flame of impossible darkness, hovering above my palm. It didn't burn. It didn't hurt. It just... existed.
"Wow," I breathed.
Lyra smiled. It was the first time I'd seen her truly smile.
"Good," she said. "That's very good. Now try to hold it steady. Don't let it fade."
I focused. The flame flickered, wavered, but stayed. It felt strange—like holding something alive, something that wanted to move and dance and fly.
"It's beautiful," I said.
"It's dangerous," Lyra corrected. "But yes. It's also beautiful."
I stared at the flame for a long moment. At the darkness that somehow glowed. At the power that I'd never asked for, but that was now a part of me.
"I can do this," I said. "I can learn to control it."
"I know," Lyra said. "That's why I chose you."
I looked at her. "You didn't choose me. The Void did."
She met my eyes. "Maybe. But I'm choosing to help you. And that's a choice I made freely."
I didn't know what to say to that.
So I just kept staring at the flame, watching it dance in my palm, and tried to believe that everything would be okay.
The next day, we started combat training.
Lyra handed me a wooden practice sword and told me to hit her. I tried. She dodged. She hit me. Again. And again. And again.
"Again," she said.
I picked myself up off the floor. My entire body ached. My pride ached worse.
"You're too slow," Lyra said. "You're too predictable. You're thinking too much."
"Sorry," I muttered. "I've never been in a fight before."
"Everyone starts somewhere," she said. "But if you hesitate in a real battle, you'll be dead. You won't get a second chance. So stop hesitating."
I tried again. She dodged, struck, and sent me sprawling.
"Better," she said. "Still slow."
I groaned from the floor. "Are you ever going to actually teach me something?"
"I'm teaching you how to fail," she said. "So that when you succeed, you'll know what it took to get there."
I didn't have a response to that.
So I got up. And I tried again.
Training went on like that for days. I slept. I ate. I trained. I dreamed of the faceless figure in the black field. I woke up exhausted and started all over again.
Slowly, painfully, I started to improve.
The flame in my hand grew steadier. I could hold it for minutes at a time, could shape it into different forms, could even make it move across the room. The dreams became less terrifying, though they never stopped. And Lyra—Lyra stopped looking at me like I was a burden, and started looking at me like I was a student.
"We're going on patrol tonight," she said one evening, as I was eating dinner.
I looked up. "Patrol?"
"The Rift is still active," she said. "There are creatures out there. Creatures that need to be put down. I've been away too long as it is."
"But... I'm not ready," I said. "I can barely hold a flame steady. I can't fight—"
"You can," Lyra said. "You've been training. You've been improving. And I won't ask you to kill anything. Just... be there. Watch. Learn."
I opened my mouth to argue. To tell her I wasn't ready, that I'd just hold her back, that I was too scared to face the nightmare again.
Then I remembered the dreams. The figure in the field. The voice telling me to find it before the light faded.
"...Okay," I said. "I'll go."
Lyra nodded. "Get some rest. We leave at midnight."
The patrol was a disaster.
Not because anything went wrong, exactly. Not because we got attacked or I froze up or anything obvious. It was just... overwhelming. The Rift was a constant presence in the back of my head, a hum that grew louder the closer we got to its source. The shadows moved in ways that didn't make sense. The air felt thick and wrong.
And then we found the creature.
It was small, smaller than the one from the rooftop. It looked almost human, except for the fact that it had too many eyes—a dozen of them, scattered across its face and limbs, each one blinking independently. It was hiding in the ruins of an apartment building, its too-many eyes fixed on the spot where Lyra and I were standing.
"What is it?" I whispered.
"Riftspawn," Lyra said. "Low-tier. Probably a scout."
"A scout for what?"
She didn't answer.
The creature moved. Faster than I would have thought possible, it lunged across the room, its too-many limbs splaying out in directions that shouldn't have been anatomically possible. Lyra moved to intercept, her sword flashing in the dim light.
I stood frozen, watching, my heart pounding in my chest.
And then the creature slipped past Lyra.
It was coming toward me. Its too-many eyes were all fixed on me. Its mouth—when had it gotten a mouth?—was twisted into a grin that showed too many teeth.
I raised my hand.
The flame exploded from my palm. Violet and dark and hungry, it slammed into the creature's chest and consumed it. The thing let out a shriek that was equal parts pain and surprise, and then it was gone. Just... gone.
I stared at my hand. The flame was gone too. Just a faint wisp of smoke rising from my palm.
Lyra was staring at me.
"Eren," she said. "That was..."
"I don't know," I said, my voice shaking. "I don't know what I did. I just..."
"Amazing," she whispered. "You just killed a Riftspawn. With a single strike. Without even trying."
I looked at the spot where the creature had been. There was nothing left. No ash. No remains. Just... nothing.
"Did I... did I do something wrong?" I asked.
"No," Lyra said. "You did something incredible."
I didn't feel incredible.
I felt terrified.
We returned to the safehouse in silence.
Lyra was quiet, thoughtful, her eyes never quite meeting mine. I was too tired to ask what she was thinking. I just collapsed onto the bed and closed my eyes.
The dream came again. The field. The figure.
But this time, it was different.
This time, the figure was closer. So close I could see the individual threads of darkness that made up its body. So close I could feel its breath—cold and empty—against my face.
"Eren," it whispered. "You're so much stronger than you think. So much more powerful. Don't you want to know what you can do?"
I shook my head. "I don't want this. I never wanted this."
"But you have it," the figure said. "And you can use it. To save people. To protect the ones you love. Isn't that what you want? To be strong enough to keep them safe?"
I thought about my mother. About the bookstore. About all the ordinary things I'd lost.
"Yes," I whispered. "I want to keep them safe."
"Then let me help you," the figure said. "Let me in. And I'll give you everything you need."
I wanted to say no.
I wanted to be strong.
But the figure's hands were reaching for me, and I was so tired, and the darkness felt so warm...
I woke up screaming again.
Lyra was there, her hand on my shoulder, her eyes wide with concern.
"Eren! Eren, look at me. You're okay. You're safe."
"I'm not," I said, my voice cracking. "I'm not safe. I'm never going to be safe. The Void is in my head, and it's not going to leave, and I can't—I can't—"
"Breathe," Lyra said. "Eren, breathe."
I tried. I really did.
But the voice in my head, the voice that wasn't mine—it wouldn't stop whispering.
"Let me in, Eren. Let me in."
"Get out of my head," I screamed. "GET OUT!"
The violet markings on my arm blazed to life. The room shook. Glass shattered. Lyra was thrown backward, hitting the wall with a thud.
And then everything stopped.
I was on my hands and knees, gasping, the markings fading from my arm. Lyra was pushing herself to her feet, her eyes wide, a trickle of blood running from her lip.
"Eren," she said softly. "Eren, what happened?"
"I don't know," I whispered. "I don't know. I just... it was in my head. It was trying to get in. And I couldn't stop it. I couldn't—"
She crossed the room and knelt beside me. Her hand was shaking, but she touched my face gently, forcing me to meet her eyes.
"Listen to me," she said. "You need to fight this. You need to build walls in your mind. You can't let the Void take root."
"I know," I said. "But I don't know how. I don't know how to stop it."
Lyra looked at me for a long moment.
"Then we'll find a way," she said. "Together."
And somehow, even though I was terrified, even though the voice was still whispering in the back of my mind, I believed her.
End of chapter three