The wind over the ruins carried no scent, no warmth — only the echo of screams that had long faded into silence.
The battlefield was still smoldering when Sid returned. Charred fragments of Hollowed Titans lay twisted among broken stone, their once-divine essence leaking into the air like drifting embers of gold and shadow.
The others were gone — Lucien tending to the wounded, Kael overseeing containment, Yara silent under questioning — but Sid remained. He couldn't leave. Not yet.
He sat among the wreckage, eyes fixed on the scorched imprint where the Ninth Seal had been. The soil beneath him throbbed faintly with residual energy — as if the world itself was trying to remember what it once was.
The chains around his chest pulsed.
A faint hum reverberated through his veins — soft, rhythmic, like a heartbeat that wasn't his own.
He exhaled slowly.
And then, the voice came.
"You linger among ashes again, vessel."
Sid's eyes snapped open. The sky dimmed — not because of clouds, but because the light itself recoiled from the name that had been spoken in silence.
Ravh'Zereth's tone was neither mocking nor kind. It was intimate, the sound of something that knew him too well.
"Do you know why they fear you, Sid? Because they see it — the flicker behind your eyes. You are not theirs anymore."
Sid pressed his hands to his temples, forcing his breathing steady.
"You're not real. You're just… noise in my head."
"Am I?"
The world shifted.
The ruins melted, becoming a mirror of fire — his reflection wreathed in black and crimson flame. Around him, faces appeared in the smoke — Yara's glare, Lucien's disappointment, Reinhardt's fading eyes.
Each whispered the same word.
"Monster."
Sid stumbled back, his breath catching. The chains flared, burning into his skin as though reacting to his fear.
"You chained me," Ravh'Zereth murmured. "But in doing so, you chained yourself. You think you can suppress me, but tell me — how many times have you wanted to burn them? To stop pretending?"
"Shut up!"
The flames surged outward, scorching the ground.
For an instant, Ravh'Zereth's form appeared within the fire — a silhouette bound in jagged light, vast and formless, eyes like dying suns.
"They will turn on you, as they did before. And when they do, you will call for me. You always do."
Sid fell to his knees, gasping. The vision wavered, flickered, and then —
A different presence touched his mind. Softer.
Nox.
"Sid… listen to me. Don't let him in."
Her voice was faint, echoing as though from miles away.
"You're in a loop field. The Seal's energy still distorts the temporal flow around you. You need to pull back — or he'll pull you in."
Sid gritted his teeth, trying to anchor himself. His memories flickered in rapid sequence — Alfred's laugh, Peter's endless curiosity, the campfires of the early days before the war.
He clenched them in his mind like lifelines.
The chains around him tightened, responding to his will. The flames dimmed.
But Ravh'Zereth wasn't gone.
"Even now," the demon whispered, "you use my strength to fight me. Every spark you call upon is mine. Do you not see? You are already becoming me."
Sid's breath caught — because, for the briefest instant, he saw it.
In his reflection, his eyes weren't human anymore. They were slitted, glowing red beneath the surface.
And then — a vision struck.
The world around him shattered into glass shards of fire. Through the fracture, Sid saw a throne of eight flames burning in silence.
Upon it sat Velgrin, his form almost divine — calm, unmoving, eternal.
And before him knelt Sid — chained, his head bowed, his hands aflame.
Velgrin's voice cut through the stillness.
"The chains will not hold forever. When they break, you will rise — not as yourself, but as my hand."
Sid screamed — the vision cracked, shattering the illusion into nothingness.
He fell forward, gasping, clutching his head. The landscape flickered again, and the real world returned — gray skies, broken ruins, and ash drifting like snow.
Nox's voice came through the comms again, strained but steady.
"Sid… are you still with me?"
He didn't answer right away.
He looked down at his hands — faint crimson smoke still rose from his palms, but the fire had died. The chains pulsed once, weakly, as if exhausted.
"Yes," he finally said. His voice was quiet, raw. "But it's getting harder."
There was silence for a moment, then Nox spoke again — softer this time.
"Then we'll make it harder for him. Hold on a little longer, Sid. You're not his vessel yet."
Sid looked up at the cracked sky — faint fissures of light still lingering from the divine clash.
He whispered under his breath, half to her, half to himself:
"I won't be anyone's vessel."
But as the wind carried his words away, the faint echo of Ravh'Zereth's laughter curled through the ashes.
"We'll see."