The ground beneath my feet shivered, trembling as if the battlefield itself were alive. The fragments pulsed in urgent, chaotic harmony, warning me of something far older than the fallen deity, far more cunning than the Watcher above.
Lysara's breathing was ragged beside me, her scorched wings sagging. "Eryndor… something else… it's stirring. I can feel it," she whispered, trembling.
I nodded, my eyes scanning the cracked earth. Faint tremors formed concentric circles across the rubble, glowing faintly with an eerie silver light. Shadows writhed along the fissures, twisting into shapes that shouldn't exist—half-formed limbs, half-seen faces, whispers curling from their mouths without sound.
The fragments inside me screamed. Not with fear, not with temptation—but with recognition. Something ancient was awakening… something that had been waiting for me.
Before I could react, the ground cracked open violently, splitting the battlefield in two. From the depths, a colossal figure emerged: towering, armored in obsidian scales, eyes glowing like molten gold, and wings that seemed forged from shadow itself. Every step it took sent tremors through the earth.
Lysara staggered back, fear etched in her features. "A… primordial?!"
I steadied myself. Primordials were supposed to be myths. Gods feared them. Legends said they devoured entire pantheons. And yet here it was—awake, sentient, and hungry.
The fragments surged, thrumming through my veins with a feral intensity. It's calling to us… they whispered. We must respond… or perish.
I clenched my fists. "Then we fight. Together."
Flame erupted from my right arm, water spiraled from my left, shadow coiled around my legs, and clarity ignited behind my eyes. The four forces merged into my wings, a blazing storm of raw energy. The primordial paused, tilting its head as if intrigued by this mortal who dared rise against it.
Its voice rolled like a mountain collapsing. "Mortal… vessel of shattered divinity… why do you survive?"
I stepped forward, energy crackling around me. "Because I refuse to be your prey."
The primordial laughed—a sound like grinding stone and molten metal. Shadows from its body lashed outward, striking at the fragments. Flame sizzled, water hissed, shadow recoiled, and clarity fractured into splintered light. But I stood firm. The fragments pulsed with an instinctive coordination I had never felt before.
For the first time, I realized: they weren't just shards of power. They were alive, listening, learning, fighting with me.
The primordial roared and lunged, striking the ground with one colossal fist. A shockwave threw me backward. Dust and debris filled the air, and Lysara screamed, wings flailing to protect herself.
But I rose again, flames and water swirling, shadow and clarity cutting through the debris. The fragments had awakened fully. They coiled around me, wings expanding, energy exploding outward. The primordial halted mid-strike, sensing something unfamiliar—something mortal, but not weak. Something capable of challenge.
A voice whispered inside my mind—not the fragments, not the Watcher, not Lysara—something else. Something older. Hungry.
"Embrace the fracture… or die whole."
I gritted my teeth, feeling the raw power thrumming through every vein. I am Eryndor. I am the fracture. I am alive.
And then, with a roar that matched the primordial's, I surged forward, wings blazing, ready to test the limits of what the fragments—and I—could do.
The battle had just begun.
And somewhere deep beneath the battlefield, something older than the gods stirred fully awake.