The suns had barely risen when Arka woke with the uneasy chill of instinct. The room they shared at the edge of the City of Dawn was quiet, filled with the faint scent of silver mist and the low hum of the new world's pulse.
Lyra was still asleep beside the window, her golden hair illuminated by morning light. Yet something in the air felt off — a subtle vibration, like a breath taken too slowly.
Arka stood and moved silently to the window. The city below was peaceful, almost unnaturally so. Children ran between vendors. Bells rang from the central plaza. And yet, beyond the walls — at the edge of the dawn — shadows twisted in ways the light could not reach.
He narrowed his eyes. "You're still here."
The air shimmered, and for a brief second, a figure appeared reflected in the glass — the same hollow-eyed creature from before.
"Watching?" Arka murmured.
The reflection smiled faintly before vanishing again.
Behind him, Lyra stirred. "You feel it again, don't you?"
Arka turned. "It's stronger now."
Lyra nodded, standing and touching the crystal embedded near her collarbone. It flickered faintly — but instead of its usual golden warmth, it pulsed with threads of black.
Her voice trembled. "Arka… it touched me."
He stepped forward immediately, his hand hovering near the glow. "When?"
"When the Voidspawn appeared yesterday," she said softly. "When it dissolved. I thought it was gone, but… I can feel something inside me. Like it's listening."
Arka's jaw tightened. "It's not just the Void lingering. It's learning."
She looked up at him, her eyes wide. "Learning?"
He nodded grimly. "In the old world, the Void was chaos — instinct. But this… this is thought. It's adapting. Watching us."
Lyra clenched her fists. "If it's using me—"
"No." Arka's tone was firm. "It's not using you. It's drawn to you. To both of us. We made this world — our power is the blueprint it's trying to understand."
Her expression darkened. "Then the Harmony itself might be flawed."
He didn't answer.
Instead, he looked out the window again. The spire at the city's heart pulsed rhythmically, its glow slower than before. Beneath its beauty, he could almost sense the threads of shadow woven between its light.
Lyra stepped closer beside him. "What do we do?"
He glanced at her. "We find its source before it finds us."
By midday, they had reached the Hall of Resonance — a vast library built into the spire's lower tier. Thousands of living scripts floated above silver pedestals, forming an ever-changing network of runes.
The Archivist greeted them — a gentle figure made of woven light, its voice echoing like chimes. "Arka, Lyra. The Founders return to seek what they already know."
Lyra frowned. "We're not here to remember. We're here to learn what's wrong."
The Archivist tilted its head. "Then you must go beneath. The Harmony hums strongest where its roots lie… and where its shadow hides."
It extended a hand. From its palm, a single shard of mirrored crystal appeared.
"Place this at the heart's core. What you find there will not speak — it will reflect."
Arka took the shard carefully. "Thank you."
The Archivist's voice softened. "Be warned. Reflection has no mercy."
They descended through spiraling halls that grew darker and quieter the deeper they went. The air grew colder. The light shifted from gold to silver, then to a dim, living blue.
Finally, they reached a vast chamber — the root of the spire.
At its center pulsed a sphere of light, immense and slow like a sleeping star. The Harmony's core.
Lyra stepped forward and placed the mirrored shard before it.
The sphere rippled.
Light poured outward, shaping itself into an image — a reflection of the city above. But in this mirror-world, the streets were empty. The towers crumbled. The people were gone.
And in their place, countless shadow figures walked — calm, silent, learning to mimic the gestures of the living.
Lyra's breath hitched. "They're… copying us."
Arka's voice was low. "No. They're becoming us."
The reflection pulsed again. This time, it showed the two of them — standing in the heart of the spire, their bodies flickering between light and shadow.
Then the reflection spoke, in both their voices at once.
"Two hearts built the world. Two shadows will unmake it."
The sphere cracked.
Lyra gasped, stumbling back. The air turned heavy, the walls shuddering. Arka caught her before she fell, his eyes blazing blue.
"Lyra—get back!"
The light fractured again, and from the core, a figure began to form — a being woven from both gold and black flame. Its voice was calm, almost gentle.
"I am Harmony," it said. "And I am incomplete."
Arka's heart pounded. "No… you're the reflection."
The being smiled faintly. "Perhaps. But tell me, Arka — how can light exist… without shadow?"
The chamber split open with a roar of energy.