The air in the ancient library grew heavy, thick with an unseen force that pressed against my chest like an iron weight. The figure before me, shrouded in that shifting black cloak, exuded something old—something wrong. His voice had carried through the chamber like a whisper that slithered into my bones, making my every instinct scream at me to run.
But I stood my ground.
Alaria, however, didn't share my patience. "Who the hell are you?" she snapped, stepping forward with her daggers drawn.
The figure barely even acknowledged her. With a slow, fluid motion, he lifted a single hand, and Alaria's voice cut off mid-sentence. Her mouth opened, fury flashing in her emerald eyes, but no sound came. She grabbed at her throat, her body tensing in immediate panic.
I took a sharp step forward, my hand instinctively going toward her shoulder. "Let her go."
The figure's lips curled into a smirk. "You always were protective, weren't you?" His golden eyes gleamed beneath his hood, sharp and otherworldly. "Even in your past lives."
My breath caught in my throat.
"You know about that." It wasn't a question.
His smirk widened. "Of course I do, Azrael."
My stomach twisted. He said it so casually, so matter-of-fact, like my old name was just another fact of existence.
Alaria still struggled against whatever force had stolen her voice, her expression a mix of rage and confusion. I clenched my fists and took another step forward. "I said—let her go."
The figure tilted his head. "And why should I? This moment is for us, Noctis. She's not needed here."
The way he spoke my name sent chills down my spine. Like he knew me. Not just as I was now, but before. Before this life. Before the last. Before—
The weight in my chest grew heavier.
"Who are you?" My voice came out steady, but there was an edge to it.
The figure chuckled, a deep, almost amused sound. "Oh, but you already know that answer." He took a slow step forward, his presence suffocating in its intensity. "You feel it, don't you? That deep, nagging familiarity? That piece of your soul that remembers?"
A pulse of Rift energy flared through me, unbidden. The shifting magic crackled beneath my skin like a chained beast, reacting to the presence before me.
My body did remember. The way he spoke, the way he moved. The power rolling off him in waves. It was ancient, like Veylara's, but different. Sharper. Hungrier.
"You serve her." I realized aloud, my voice quieter now. "You're one of them, aren't you?"
The figure's grin sharpened. "You say it like it's a bad thing."
My stomach twisted.
One of them.
A servant of the Queen of the Void. A follower of her—Veylara.
Something inside me recoiled at the idea, at the notion that whatever stood before me was bound to her in the same way I was.
But was I bound? Or was I claimed?
Veylara's voice hummed in my mind, laced with amusement. "Now, now, dear Noctis. No need to be so hostile. He's merely here to remind you of what you already know."
I grit my teeth, staring the figure down. "And what is that?"
The figure's golden eyes gleamed, his grin stretching wider.
"That fate is inevitable."
My breath hitched.
"You are walking the path laid before you, Noctis. Whether you like it or not. The Queen's tomb calls to you." His voice was smooth, almost soothing, yet beneath it was something razor-sharp. "You cannot ignore it. No matter how much you wish you could."
The Rift magic inside me pulsed again. A cold, suffocating weight.
I clenched my fists, grounding myself. "If you think I'm just going to walk blindly toward whatever end you've planned, you don't know me at all."
The figure merely chuckled. "Oh, but I do, dear seraph."
I stiffened.
That name.
That damn name.
The Voidbane Seraph. The title they gave me after I killed the Vampire King.
But the way he said it—
It was different. Like it belonged to something older.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. "You still haven't told me your name."
The figure hummed, as if amused by the request. "Names are just words, echoes of something fleeting." He stepped even closer, his presence nearly unbearable now. "But if you insist—" He paused, letting the moment hang before whispering, "You may call me Erevan."
Erevan.
The name sent something cold through me. Something old and unplaceable.
Alaria let out a sharp gasp as the invisible force holding her vanished. She staggered forward, coughing, gripping her throat with wide, furious eyes. "What the fuck was that?!"
Erevan didn't even glance at her. His attention was solely on me. "We will speak again, Noctis. Sooner than you think."
And with that, his form shimmered, twisting, unraveling—
And then he was gone.
Just like that.
Silence fell over the library. Alaria was still breathing heavily beside me, her eyes darting between me and the empty space where Erevan had stood.
I let out a slow breath. My hands were shaking.
What the hell just happened?
Alaria was still coughing, her breath uneven as she tried to compose herself. Her emerald eyes burned with barely contained fury, and I could see the tension in her body—every muscle coiled, ready to lash out at something, anything.
"What the fuck was that?" she spat, voice hoarse, her grip tightening around her daggers. "Who the hell was that guy, and why the fuck was he acting like you two were old friends?!"
I didn't answer right away. My mind was still reeling from the encounter. My breath felt too shallow, my fingers still trembling. Erevan. That name rang in my mind like a ghostly whisper, tugging at memories that weren't mine, at echoes of something I couldn't quite grasp.
Veylara's voice slithered through my mind, smooth as silk. "Do you see now, dear Noctis? The past is never truly gone. It lingers in the cracks of your soul, waiting."
I ignored her.
Alaria's glare sharpened when I didn't immediately respond. "Noctis," she hissed, stepping closer. "Talk to me."
I exhaled slowly, forcing my hands to steady. "His name was Erevan." The words felt heavy on my tongue. "And he knew about my past lives."
Alaria's expression twisted into something unreadable. "Past lives," she repeated, almost like she was testing the weight of those words. "You mean… before this life?"
I nodded stiffly.
A beat of silence passed.
Then she let out a sharp, bitter laugh, running a hand through her crimson hair. "You really need to start telling me shit, Noct."
I rubbed a hand over my face. "It's not that simple."
"Yeah? Well, getting fucking strangled by an invisible force just to be ignored like a piece of furniture wasn't simple either," she snapped. Her usual manic grin was absent now, replaced by something rawer—something more vulnerable.
I sighed. "I don't have all the answers, Alaria. I don't know what any of this means yet. I just—" I exhaled sharply. "I just know that he was right. The tomb is calling to me."
Alaria's fingers twitched. "And you think that's a good thing?"
"No," I admitted, my voice quieter. "But I don't think I have a choice."
Her lips pressed into a thin line, her emerald gaze searching mine. For a long moment, she was silent. Then, finally, she let out a breath and shook her head. "This is fucked."
"Yeah," I agreed.
We stood there for a few more moments, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on both of us. The library around us felt colder now, emptier. Erevan's presence still lingered in the space he had occupied, like a stain that wouldn't fade.
Alaria was the first to move. She sheathed her daggers and crossed her arms, rolling her shoulders. "So what now? We just go back upstairs like that didn't happen?"
I hesitated. "We don't tell the others."
Her eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"
"They already have enough to worry about," I said firmly. "If we start telling them about this, it'll only make things worse."
Alaria scoffed. "You mean Elaris will lose her shit."
I flinched at that, but didn't deny it. "It's not just her. Lucian is still healing. Gareth and Rowan already think something's off about me. Callen's too damn loyal for his own good. This will just put them on edge."
Alaria stared at me, her expression unreadable. Then, after a long pause, she exhaled through her nose and muttered, "Fine. Whatever. But if another creepy asshole starts whispering your past life's name at you, I am stabbing them."
I almost smiled at that. Almost.
The moment passed.
I turned back toward the old wooden table where the book on Veylara still lay open, untouched since Erevan's arrival. Slowly, I reached for it.
The Story of the Queen of the Void.
The pages felt impossibly old beneath my fingers, but the ink was still sharp and precise, like it had been written just yesterday.
I had come here looking for answers.
And it seemed I had only found more questions.
Alaria was still rubbing at her throat, glaring at the empty space where Erevan had vanished. Her usual fiery demeanor was overshadowed by something else—something unsettled. I could feel her gaze flickering toward me, searching for some kind of explanation. But I had none.
Because I didn't even know what the hell had just happened.
My pulse still thundered in my ears, and the weight of Erevan's presence lingered like an echo in my bones. The way he spoke to me, the way he looked at me—it was as if I were some puzzle piece he had been waiting to fit into place.
I hated it.
I hated that it felt right.
I let out a slow breath, trying to steady myself. My hands were still trembling slightly.
"Noctis." Alaria's voice was hoarse, her sharp tone edged with something dangerously close to worry. "What the fuck was that?"
I forced myself to look at her. "I don't know." It wasn't a lie. Not entirely.
She narrowed her emerald eyes at me, stepping forward until she was practically in my face. "Bullshit. That bastard knew you. He knew your name—your real name. He knew about all this Void crap, and you expect me to believe you don't know what's going on?"
I clenched my jaw. I could still hear Veylara's voice in the back of my mind, humming in satisfaction. She wasn't offering answers either. Not yet.
"I don't have all the answers, Alaria," I muttered, running a hand through my hair. "But I intend to get them."
Her gaze flickered to the book in my grip. The worn leather, the faded lettering. The Story of the Queen of the Void.
She scoffed. "You think reading some old bedtime story is going to help?"
"It's all I have right now." I moved past her, heading toward the nearest table. My legs still felt stiff, heavy, like I'd been walking through deep water ever since Erevan spoke to me.
Alaria huffed but followed, flopping into the chair beside me with her arms crossed. "Fine. But if it's some tragic, evil-queen sob story, I'm going to be pissed."
I didn't answer her. Instead, I opened the book.
The pages were brittle beneath my fingertips, the ink faded yet still legible. My eyes flicked across the text, scanning the first few lines.
"Before the gods shaped the world, before the first kingdom rose from the dust, there was only the Rift. A vast and endless abyss, where light and darkness were one and the same."
"And from the Rift, she was born."
"Veylara, the Queen of the Void. She who was cast from divinity. She who sought to reclaim what was stolen."
I swallowed. I already knew some of this. The way Veylara had spoken of her past, the bitterness laced in every word. The way she hinted at something greater, something lost.
But this… this was history. This was recorded.
I kept reading.
"The gods feared her, for she was unlike them. A being not of creation, but of the unknown. The forbidden. The unshaped."
"She spoke to mortals, whispered to them from the dark corners of their minds. She promised them things beyond what the gods would allow—knowledge, power, eternity. And in return, she asked for only one thing."
"Loyalty."
A shiver crawled down my spine.
Alaria shifted beside me, resting her chin in her palm as she glanced at the text. "So, she had cultists. Figures."
I ignored her, flipping to the next section.
"Her first followers were scholars, mages who sought to understand the fabric of existence itself. Through her, they wielded the power of the Rift, bending the laws of nature to their will."
"But power has a cost."
"And the Rift always demands its due."
My grip on the pages tightened.
"One by one, her followers lost themselves. Their minds frayed, their bodies withered. They became hollow, empty things—beasts of the void, neither living nor dead. And still, they worshipped her."
"For Veylara was mercy. Veylara was understanding. She was the only one who truly saw them."
The words blurred for a moment as something inside me twisted.
I remembered the way she spoke to me. How she had seen the cracks in me, the fractures no one else noticed. How she had filled them with her voice, her presence.
Had it always been this way? Had she always drawn in those who were broken?
I clenched my teeth and read on.
"But the gods would not suffer her existence. They waged war upon the Queen, upon her followers, upon the very Rift itself."
"And though she was mighty, though she was eternal—she was betrayed."
"One of her own. One closest to her. A traitor who wielded her own power against her."
Alaria's breath hitched beside me. "Damn." Her voice was quieter now.
I forced myself to keep going.
"The battle tore apart the land, cracked the sky itself. And in the end, the gods did not kill her."
"They could not."
"So they bound her instead."
"Sealed her away in the Tomb of the Fractured Star, where even time would forget her."
My fingers curled around the edge of the book.
"But not all forgot."
"For the Rift remembers."
"And the Rift does not forgive."
The final words sent a chill through me. My stomach churned as I closed the book, my mind reeling.
The Rift remembers.
The Rift does not forgive.
Alaria let out a slow breath. "So, let me get this straight." She tapped the book with a gloved finger. "Your ghost lady was some kind of exiled god-wannabe. She made a bunch of nerds go crazy, got betrayed, and now she's locked in some ancient tomb?"
I exhaled sharply. "That's the simple version."
She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "And now you have her magic."
I didn't answer.
Because I wasn't sure that was true anymore.
Did I have the Rift's power? Or had it always been hers?
Was I wielding it?
Or was I being shaped by it?
Alaria studied me for a long moment before shaking her head. "You're a walking disaster, you know that?"
I let out a dry laugh. "Yeah. I do."
She sighed and leaned her head back, staring at the ceiling. "So, what now?"
I glanced down at the book.
"We find the tomb."
Alaria groaned. "Oh, because that's a great idea."
I didn't answer her. I just closed my eyes and let the weight of the words settle.
We were one step closer.
And I had no idea if that was a good thing or not.