The box was too quiet.
Not the tense silence of the previous night.Not the suffocating silence after the colossus's roar.This was different.
An attentive silence.As if the air itself were waiting for Ren to lift the lid again.
He felt it.Felt it even before opening his eyes that morning.
It was like a weak call, trapped between sleep and waking.
The broken voice from the night before…had not gone away.
"Ren?" Lyra called from the cabin's entrance. "You're different today."
He sat on the floor before the box, staff beside him, shadows under his eyes.But what made Lyra tense wasn't fatigue—it was the expression on his face.
Ren wasn't afraid.Wasn't restless.
He was listening.
Draven appeared behind her."Is the thing alive? Did it move?"
Borin entered last, gripping his axe like he expected the box to explode at any moment.
Ren raised one hand.
Silence fell instantly.
He closed his eyes and leaned forward, placing his palm on the lid of the box.
The world vanished.
It wasn't like before.Not a violent pull.Not a sudden invasion.
It was… gentle.Like stepping into a dark lake.The water was cold, but not hostile—just unknown.
Ren opened his eyes inside that silent darkness.
There were…shapes.
Thin shadows.Like roots sleeping underwater.They didn't touch Ren—but swayed around him, shy, cautious.
The voice came like a distant echo:
"…hear…"
Ren spoke—or thought he did—because sound didn't exist there.
"I'm listening."
The roots shifted slowly.One of them moved closer, trembling like a wounded animal.
"…pain…"
The word wasn't sound—it was sensation.A weight pressed against Ren's chest—warm, heavy, suffocating.
The fragment's pain.The pain of being torn from something bigger.Of existing alone.
Ren took a slow breath.
"I know."
The shadows rippled again.
"…fear…"
Ren answered firmly:
"I know that too."
The closest root brushed against his arm—or his mind—and Ren saw an image.
Brief.Fragmented.Like a cracked painting.
A massive trunk buried beneath the earth, pulsing like a sick heart.Black roots twisting like serpents.A giant eye opening deep within the dark.A snap—something breaking, tearing loose.The fragment flung away like a ripped tooth.
Ren recoiled.The pain stabbed through his ribs.
The voice came clearer now:
"…no return…"
Ren swallowed.
"You want me to stop him from returning."
The root shuddered violently, like thunder shaking water.
"…death…"
Ren narrowed his eyes.
"If he returns… you die?"
The shadows folded inward.
It wasn't just fear of death.
It was fear of being absorbed.Consumed.Made part of the colossus again.
Ren felt his blood run cold.
"He devours his own pieces?"
The roots trembled.Confirming.
Outside, Ren knew Lyra, Draven, and Borin were there—but he couldn't see them.He could only see this heavy, dark world of sleeping roots.
Then the water around him began to ripple.
Something approached.
Not the colossus—not that vast, crushing weight.
Something smaller.A reflection of it.
An echo.
The dark water thickened.Cracks of shadow spread across the surface.
The roots panicked.
They curled inward, shrinking away from Ren.
The voice came again—urgent, almost screaming:
"…run…"
Ren opened his eyes—but the dark world did not vanish.
He tried to pull his mind back into his body—but something held him.
Something cold.Rough.Fractured.
A different root.
Gray.
Made of the same dust the colossus left behind.
It rose from the dark water like a finger pointing at him.
"…see…"
Ren tried to back away.
But the root touched his forehead.
And he saw.
A stone circle.Ancient lights.Old runes burning softly.A human hand—not giant, not monstrous—touching a black stone.
And unlocking what had been sealed.
Then Ren heard another voice.
Not from the fragment.Not from the colossus.
A human voice.
Calm.Cold.Satisfied.
"Let him awaken."
Ren gasped—and snapped back into his body.
He collapsed to his knees in the cabin, breathing hard.
Lyra rushed to him."Ren! REN! Are you okay?!"
Draven looked ready to panic.Borin lifted his axe, scanning the cabin as if expecting the colossus to erupt from the floor.
Ren looked up.
His expression wasn't fear.
It was shock.
Certainty.
He spoke in a low voice—steady, sharp:
"He didn't wake on his own."
Lyra's face drained of color."Who…?"
Ren tightened his grip on the staff.
"A cultivator."A breath."Someone powerful."Another breath."And he's still nearby."