The chamber was impossibly large, though the walls pressed in as if sensing my every movement. Runes etched into the stone glowed faintly, pulsing in rhythm with my heartbeat. The fragments inside me hissed, thrumming like a living thing, uneasy and eager.
The fallen deity hovered near me, shadows twisting across its form. "Welcome," it said, voice soft but deadly, "to the Altar of Fractures. Few mortals ever see this place. Fewer survive it intact."
I swallowed hard. "Altar… of what?"
"Of transformation," it said, stepping closer. Its molten-gold eyes reflected in the fragments coiling in my veins. "It is designed to break you. Or remake you. And it has chosen you."
I glanced at the chains of light binding my wrists. They didn't suppress my body anymore—the fragments had learned to resist—but they did cage my movement. The fragments hummed in defiance. We can escape… now… they whispered. We can rise…
I shook my head. "Not yet. I need to know the rules first."
The fallen deity nodded. "Smart. But time is a luxury you won't have for long."
Above, I felt the faintest tremor. The Watcher's gaze. It didn't strike. It didn't interfere. It merely watched.
"You see, mortal," the deity continued, "the fragments are alive. They can obey, rebel, or evolve. The altar doesn't just test your body. It tests your soul. And in the end…"
Its voice dropped to a whisper. "It tests what you're willing to sacrifice."
I clenched my fists. "Sacrifice? For who?"
"For yourself," it said. "And for all the forces that brought you here. The Watcher, the primordial, the fragments… every power that touches you, every divine eye that judges you—they are part of your fate. The altar merely accelerates it."
A pulse of energy from the runes shot toward me. The fragments surged, wrapping around my arms, my torso, my heart. Flame, water, shadow, clarity—they merged, forming a glowing cocoon around me. Pain lanced through my chest as the altar probed, pushing my limits, testing the fracture.
I gritted my teeth. I won't break. Not now. Not ever.
The fragments answered, weaving through my body in perfect unity. For the first time, I felt them consciously respond to me, not just react. My wings began to form again—no longer four separate elements, but a single, unified construct of molten light and shadow.
The fallen deity watched in silence, eyes gleaming with something like fascination. "Interesting. Very interesting. You may not yet understand what you are capable of."
I stood, my aura flaring, the chamber trembling beneath our presence. My voice echoed off the walls, commanding and raw. "I'm Eryndor. And no altar, no Watcher, no primordial… will control me."
The deity tilted its head. "Bold words. But bold words have consequences. Are you ready to see what the altar can truly do?"
Before I could answer, the runes on the walls exploded into red light, forming a giant circular sigil beneath my feet. Shadows twisted in its center, writhing like a storm caught in a cage. And through the chaos, I heard it—a low, resonant hum, familiar and ancient, the presence from beneath the battlefield finally rising into awareness.
The fragments shivered. It knows us. It's awake. It's here.
I clenched my fists and lifted my wings fully. The air ignited with raw energy.
And then, just as the altar began to descend—its runes wrapping around my entire being—the chamber plunged into darkness.
A single voice, cold and omnipotent, whispered:
"Eryndor… the game begins."
Silence followed.
And somewhere, deep in the shadows below the chamber, something far older than the Watcher stirred…