The path away from the citadel twisted into uneven stone, fractured by centuries of erosion and recent devastation. Mael and Seris descended the long slope in silence, the ruined palace looming behind them like the carcass of a fallen beast. Dawn stretched across the horizon, thin and pale, illuminating the land below with a light too fragile to feel real.
Mael inhaled slowly. The air carried the distant scent of burnt bark and cold soil. It reminded him of an older battlefield, one from a life he no longer acknowledged yet could never fully abandon.
Seris walked slightly behind him. Her steps were quiet, but not quiet enough to conceal how often she glanced back at the citadel.
"You keep looking," Mael said without turning.
"It feels like something is still watching us," she murmured.
"It isn't."
"How can you be so sure?"
"I destroyed its anchor."
Seris frowned. "But you said the throne was only an echo. If that was true, then what was the original?"
Mael stopped.
He turned his head just enough to meet her gaze. His eyes held no fear, no hesitation—only the weight of knowledge he wished he didn't have to carry.
"The original wasn't the king," he said. "It was the force that created him."
Seris stiffened. "The force…?"
"A fragment of ancient will. Something older than kingdoms, older than the world before the collapse. It manifested through the king, fed on his ambitions, shaped his cruelty into destiny."
Seris swallowed. "And now?"
"Now it wanders without form. Weak, but not gone."
Seris looked at him with worry sharp in her eyes. "Will it come for you?"
"It will try."
A gust of wind rippled through the valley, shifting the tall grasses and scattered debris. The landscape ahead stretched into a vast plain, littered with collapsed bridges and skeletal remains of old machines half-buried in cracked earth. The ruins resembled a continent-sized graveyard.
Mael resumed walking.
Seris followed, though her hand never strayed far from the hilt of her dagger. "Where do we go now?"
"To the Rift."
She blinked. "You mean the fractured zone we saw from the ridge last week?"
"Yes."
"But that place isn't just broken. It's unnatural."
Mael nodded. "That's why we need to reach it before anyone else."
Seris hesitated before asking, "Is it connected to the throne?"
"Everything is connected now."
Seris shivered.
The path narrowed as they entered a valley where the rocks were scorched black, as if firestorms had once raged here. Mael scanned the ground without slowing. The tracks—footprints, wheels, claw-marks—all pointed in the same direction.
"We aren't alone," he said.
Seris tensed. "Who else is heading toward the Rift?"
"People desperate for power. People desperate for answers. And things that shouldn't exist."
As they moved deeper into the ravine, the shadows lengthened, thinning the morning light. A distant rumble echoed across the stone walls. Seris stopped, listening.
"What was that?"
Mael's expression hardened. "A calling."
Before she could ask, he continued walking. But his pace changed—faster, sharper, like a predator slipping into motion.
They emerged from the ravine to find a small clearing where remnants of a settlement clung to the ground. Wooden structures had collapsed inward, their frames snapped like brittle bones. A well lay toppled, stone blocks scattered around it in a perfect ring.
Seris whispered, "Something happened here."
"Yes."
Mael crouched beside a collapsed wall. The wood was blackened, but not from fire. He scraped a finger along the surface. A thin coat of dust lifted—dark and metallic.
Seris wrinkled her nose. "Is that ash?"
"No."
"Then what is—"
Before she finished, Mael lifted the dust to the air. As the sun touched it, the particles shimmered faintly.
Seris stepped back. "Blood?"
"Not blood," Mael replied. "What remains of energy when a soul is forcibly stripped."
Seris stared at him, horrified. "How many…?"
"All of them. A dozen, maybe more."
She looked around again, this time seeing the absence rather than the ruins. No bodies. No bones. Not even the faintest trace of life.
"Was this the echo?" she asked.
"No. This is something else."
Before Seris could react, the ground beneath them vibrated. A tremor shook the clearing. The remaining wood splintered. Dust erupted into the air.
Seris drew her dagger. "Mael—"
His hand shot out, pulling her behind him just as a fissure ripped through the earth. Something forced its way up through the soil—slow, deliberate, unnatural.
A hand of blackened stone emerged.
Then another.
The ground burst open, and a humanoid figure rose from the fissure. Its body was made entirely of dark rock streaked with glowing cracks. Its head resembled a mask with no mouth, only two hollow pits where eyes should be.
Seris gasped. "Is that… a construct?"
"No," Mael said. "It's a guardian."
The guardian's head tilted.
Then it moved.
It lunged forward with a speed no stone creature should possess. The ground cratered beneath its feet. Its arm swung toward Mael, leaving trails of shimmering dust in the air.
Mael raised one hand.
The impact collided against an invisible barrier, sending a shockwave across the clearing. Trees snapped. Walls crumbled. The guardian staggered back, cracks spreading along its arm.
Seris shouted, "Can we destroy it?"
"Yes," Mael replied. "But it won't stay destroyed."
The guardian roared, a deep, grinding sound that shook the ground. Its cracks glowed brighter, lines of luminous gold spreading across its body like veins igniting from within.
Mael stepped forward.
His shadow stretched strangely behind him, lengthening past what the angle of light allowed. Seris noticed and froze. She had seen it only once before—that unnatural ripple of darkness that didn't obey the world's laws.
"Mael…"
He ignored her.
His hand rose, fingers curling.
The air thickened.
The guardian rushed him again, but this time Mael didn't block. Instead, he drove his hand into the creature's torso as if plunging through water. The stone form convulsed violently. A resonating hum filled the air, vibrating through Seris's bones.
Mael pulled his hand free.
The guardian disintegrated.
The pieces didn't fall like stone—they dissolved into golden dust, scattered by a wind that hadn't existed moments before. The fissure sealed itself, leaving no trace of the creature's emergence.
Seris' voice trembled. "Mael… what did you just do?"
"I severed the thread connecting it to its source."
"Which is?"
Mael looked toward the east.
"The Rift."
Seris followed his gaze. Between the distant hills, faint streaks of light pulsed upward into the sky, twisting like luminous serpents. The sight sent a cold shiver along her spine.
"That place is waking up," she whispered.
"It has been awake for a long time," Mael corrected. "Now it is calling."
Seris swallowed. "And we're going to walk straight into it?"
Mael nodded. "Because whatever destroyed this village… whatever summoned that guardian… whatever is gathering strength inside the Rift… is tied to me."
Seris stared at him.
"To you?"
"Yes."
He began walking again.
Seris hurried to follow. "Mael, why would something from the Rift be connected to you? What happened before your rebirth?"
Mael didn't answer at first. His silence pressed heavy against the air.
Then he said, quietly:
"I wasn't the only one who was reborn."
Seris stopped cold.
Mael kept walking.
The dawn behind them dimmed, swallowed by rising clouds.
And the Rift ahead glowed brighter.