The rain had stopped hours ago, but the scent of it still lingered in the air wet soil, burned ozone, and the faint trace of ash that refused to fade. It felt…like they were living in the aftermath of a fire.
Eryndor stood at the balcony of the old citadel, watching mist coil through the ruined streets below. The city was quiet now. Too…quiet. It felt…like it was holding its breath.
Only the distant sound of dripping water broke the silence. It felt…lonely.
He pressed his palm against the cold railing, feeling the faint vibration of the world beneath. It felt…like a heartbeat.
Once, this city pulsed with light markets alive with voices, airships gliding between towers, children chasing illusions down the alleyways. Now, it was only the echoes that remained. It felt…like a ghost town.
Echoes…and ghosts.
He wished he could bring it back to life.
Behind him, a candle flickered weak on the desk, surrounded by scattered parchments, maps half-burned at the edges. It felt…like they were surrounded by the remnants of a lost world.
Eryndor's reflection in the window looked older than he remembered eyes darker, jaw sharper, shoulders drawn tight as though the weight of two worlds pressed upon them. It felt…like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
He hadn't slept in days. He didn't need to, not anymore. The shift that happened within him the merging of his essence with the fragments of the Aether had changed more than just his strength. It felt…like he was becoming something else.
It had rewritten what it meant for him to be.
He wasn't sure if he was still human.
The line between mortal, divine, between man, something else, was blurring. It felt…like he was losing himself.
The door creaked open behind him.
"Still awake?"
The voice was soft, familiar, carrying a hint of warmth Eryndor hadn't felt in too long. It felt…like a lifeline.
Lira stepped into the dim light, her hair loose, her expression half-hidden in shadow. She looked…tired.
Her robes were no longer the pristine white of the Temple stained now by soot, travel, though her presence remained almost painful pure against the ruin around them. It felt…like she was a beacon of hope in the darkness.
Eryndor didn't turn to face her immediate.
"Couldn't sleep," he murmured. "Every time I close my eyes, I…hear them."
He couldn't escape the voices, even in his dreams.
"The voices?" she asked, quiet. "The ones from the breach?"
He nodded.
"They whisper. Sometimes in words I understand, sometimes not. But the meaning…it's always the same."
He exhaled, slow, his breath fogging against the cold glass.
"They're not gone, Lira. The boundary didn't seal it only shifted. And now, it's inside…me."
He felt like he was being invaded.
For a moment…silence. Then, the sound of footsteps soft, deliberate until she stood beside him. It felt…like she was trying to comfort him.
Her gaze followed his, out into the mist-drenched horizon.
"Maybe it's not a curse," she said, final. "Maybe it's the world's way of reminding you you're still connected…to it."
She was trying to find a positive in the situation.
Eryndor almost smiled. "That's a kind way of putting it."
Lira's hand brushed his wrist lightly, unintentional at first but neither of them moved away. It felt…electric.
"Do you ever wonder," she whispered, "if there's something beyond all this? Beyond the war, the Aether, the endless…cycle?"
She was searching for something more, something beyond the chaos.
Eryndor turned his head then, meeting her eyes. There was something there a quiet ache, a yearning for peace neither of them could name. It felt…like they were sharing a secret.
"Every…day," he said.
He longed for a world without war, without suffering.
Outside, thunder rumbled faint over the horizon, too distant to bring rain but close enough to remind them the storm was never truly gone. It felt…like a warning.
Lira broke the silence first. "They're rebuilding in the southern quarter. The survivors from Varin's Reach. They said they'll come here by…dawn."
"Good," Eryndor replied. "They'll need shelter. Food. Guidance."
He knew he had a responsibility to protect them.
"And you?" she asked, soft. "What will you need?"
She looked…concerned.
He hesitated.
The truth was something he didn't dare voice that part of him hungered, not for power, not even for redemption, but for understanding. For a reason why he had survived when others hadn't. It felt…selfish.
"I…don't know," he admitted. "Maybe just…time."
He needed time to make sense of everything.
The candle sputtered behind them, a small hiss of wax, flame. Shadows danced over the walls like memories refusing to die. It felt…like they were being haunted by the past.
Lira exhaled, a slow sigh that carried the weight of too many nights like this. "Time," she echoed. "It's the one thing the gods never grant…freely."
She knew that time was a precious commodity.
He almost laughed at that. "Then it's a good thing I'm no longer asking their…permission."
He knew he had to take control of his own destiny.
Her lips curved, faint. "You're changing, Eryndor."
She looked…almost wary.
"I…know," he said. "That's what…frightens me."
He was afraid of what he was becoming.
Outside, the mist began to move. Not with the wind but as if something within it was stirring, twisting, forming shapes too faint to discern. It felt…like something was watching them.
Eryndor's gaze sharpened. His senses attuned beyond mortal perception picked up the vibration of foreign energy, faint but deliberate. It felt…like a threat.
"Something's…wrong," he murmured.
He felt a chill run down his spine.
Lira tensed. "Another…breach?"
He shook his head, slow. "No. Something…smaller. Closer."
He extended a hand toward the window. Threads of silver light flickered between his fingers, weaving through the air like strands of thought. It felt…like he was trying to connect with the resonance.
The mist responded rippling outward, parting slight to reveal faint, moving silhouettes below. It felt…like they were being surrounded.
Not soldiers. Not spirits.
Something…else.
Something he couldn't identify.
The Aether trembled. It felt…like the world was about to break.
Lira stepped back, instinctive reaching for the blade she'd laid aside earlier. She looked…determined.
The golden edge shimmered faint in the dim light.
"They've found us again, haven't they?"
Eryndor's voice was calm but cold.
"No. This time, they were…waiting."
He knew that they were walking into a trap.
The candle blew out.
Darkness swallowed the room whole. It felt…like they were being plunged into the unknown.
The darkness didn't stay still. It…moved. It felt…like it was alive.
The air thickened with a low hum, the kind that crawled under the skin and settled deep in the bones. It felt…like he was being invaded.
Eryndor's pulse matched its rhythm steady, deliberate, almost ritualistic. It felt…like he was losing control.
He reached for the sigil etched into his wrist. The mark pulsed faint, responding to his focus. It felt…like it was a part of him.
A thin stream of silvery light burst from his palm, illuminating the room just enough for him to see Lira's face her eyes wide, her breath uneven. She looked…terrified.
"Stay…close," he murmured.
He wanted to protect her.
She nodded, stepping toward him. The faint shimmer of her protective charm glowed against her collarbone, a soft gold contrasting his colder light. It felt…like they were two sides of the same coin.
For a moment, the two auras mingled silver, gold, warmth, ice creating an iridescent reflection across the stone walls. It felt…beautiful.
The sound outside grew louder. It felt…like something was approaching.
Not footsteps resonance. It felt…like it was coming from another dimension.
The kind of vibration left behind by something half-formed, half-real. It felt…like it was incomplete.
Eryndor could feel the boundary between planes thinning…again. It felt…like the world was about to break.
"They shouldn't have found this…place," Lira whispered. "The wards"
"Were broken the moment I came here," he finished, his voice tight. "I drew…them in."
He knew he was responsible for what was happening.
She looked at him sharp. "What are you…saying?"
He met her gaze, unflinching. "They're not hunting you, Lira. They're after…me. Always have been."
He knew he was the target.
A shudder passed through the citadel, dust falling from the high beams. It felt…like the building was about to collapse.
Somewhere below, a metallic groan echoed like a gate being forced open. It felt…like they were being invaded.
Eryndor's light dimmed for a moment, then flared again, brighter this time. It felt…like he was gathering his strength.
He extended his other hand toward the door, and a thin veil of Aether energy spread outward, forming a translucent barrier. It felt…like he was trying to protect them.
The moment it sealed, something struck it from the outside. It felt…like a punch to the gut.
A flash then…silence. It felt…like the calm before the storm.
Lira flinched, but Eryndor remained still, every muscle tense. He looked…determined.
The barrier held…barely. It felt…fragile.
Through the flickering veil, they saw them not creatures, not spirits, but…echoes. It felt…like they were facing ghosts.
Distorted shapes wearing remnants of faces. It felt…like they were seeing the faces of the dead.
The dead memories of those who had fallen when the Aether first tore open. It felt…like they were being haunted by the past.
"They're…familiar," Lira breathed.
She knew, deep down, that they were seeing something that was meant to be seen.
Eryndor nodded once. "That's because they used to be…us."
He knew that they were facing the consequences of their past actions.
The echoes moved in unison, silent yet screaming. It felt…like they were being surrounded by despair.
They pressed their hands against the barrier and the air around the sigil began to ripple, bending like liquid glass. It felt…like the barrier was about to break.
Eryndor clenched his jaw. "They've learned to imitate resonance," he muttered. "That's…new."
He knew that the enemy was evolving.
"Can you hold it?"
"Not for long."
Without hesitation, Lira drew the narrow blade from her belt the one etched with runes from the old temple. She looked…ready to fight.
The golden edge shimmered faint in the dim light. It felt…like a beacon of hope.
"If they're echoes," she said, "then they can be…silenced."
She believed that they could defeat the enemy.
Eryndor gave a faint, humorless smile. "You always did believe in the simple…answer."
He knew that the situation was far more complex than she realized.
He pressed his palm to the air. "On my…mark."
The barrier pulsed once.
Twice.
Then…shattered outward. It felt…like everything was being unleashed.
The first echo lunged through the mist faceless, its form unstable but Lira met it mid-stride, blade slicing through vapor, sound. It felt…like she was dancing with death.
The air shrieked as it was cut, the echo dispersing like smoke in sunlight. It felt…like they were erasing something that should never have existed.
Eryndor moved beside her, every motion a blend of precision, instinct. It felt…like they were fighting as one.
The Aether thrummed through his veins, shaping itself into twin arcs of light that curved from his hands like spectral wings. It felt…like he was becoming something more than human.
Each swing tore through an echo, each strike burning a faint afterimage into the walls. It felt…like they were scarring the world with their power.
It was fast too fast and yet eerie silent. Only the clash of energy, the whisper of breath filled the room. It felt…like they were trapped in a dream.
When the last echo dissolved, the mist fell away, revealing the balcony once more. It felt…like they had won a battle, but not the war.
The night had grown darker.
The moon was gone. It felt…ominous.
Eryndor dropped to one knee, exhaling sharp. The veins along his hands glowed faint before fading. He looked…exhausted.
Lira crouched beside him, gripping his shoulder. She looked…concerned.
"You're…bleeding," she said.
He looked down. The edge of his wrist where the sigil had flared was cracked, faint smoking. A small price for holding the breach closed too long. It felt…like he was sacrificing himself.
"It's…fine," he murmured.
He didn't want her to worry.
"It's not fine."
He almost laughed. "Then at least it's…consistent."
He was trying to make light of the situation.
Her hand tightened around his arm. "You keep saying that as if consistency can…save you."
She knew that he was pushing himself too hard.
He finally looked at her really looked. Her face, the faint glow of her charm, the tremor in her voice that she tried to hide. It felt…like he was seeing her for the first time.
"Maybe it's not about saving…me anymore."
He knew that he might have to sacrifice himself to save the world.
"Then what is it…about?"
He hesitated, searching for words.
"Balance," he said, final. "If the world wants to end itself, I won't let it do so…quietly."
He knew he had to fight, even if it meant losing everything.
They stayed there a long time in the ruined chamber, with the scent of ozone, fading light. It felt…like they were the only two people left in the world.
The echoes were gone for now. But the silence they left behind was heavier than before. It felt…like they were being haunted by the ghosts of the past.
Lira glanced toward the horizon, where faint streaks of silver began to cut through the clouds. It felt…like a new dawn was breaking.
"Dawn," she whispered. "You made it."
"Barely."
He knew that they had only just survived.
She smiled, faint. "That's still…something."
She was trying to give him hope.
He turned his hand toward her, palm open. It felt…like he was offering her a part of himself.
For a heartbeat, she hesitated then placed hers over his. It felt…like their souls were connecting.
Their light intertwined…again. Silver, gold. Two forces that were never meant to meet, and yet always…did. It felt…beautiful.
Outside, the first birds began to sing faint, uncertain, as though the world itself was relearning how to breathe. It felt…like there was still hope.
Eryndor closed his eyes, the corner of his lips curving into the faintest hint of peace. It felt…like he was finally finding some rest.
"Let's see how long it…lasts."
He knew that the peace wouldn't last forever.