The battlefield did not vanish when Kaelith retreated—no, it lingered like a wound on the world, the stones still trembling with the residue of divine manipulation. My breath came ragged, each inhale searing, each exhale trembling. The fragments throbbed against my skin, their glow dimming into something colder… more predatory.
Lysara descended beside me, her wings flickering with unease.
"Eryndor… your aura is unstable."
I didn't have the strength to answer. My body felt wrong—too heavy, too light, too hot, too cold. The fragments weren't resting. They were humming, resonating with something unseen on the horizon.
And then I heard it.
A whisper—soft, almost tender, coiling around my thoughts.
"Break… break… break…"
I staggered. "No. Not now."
Another whisper, this one sharper.
"Let us help you. Let us take control. You are weakening. We can protect you."
The words were soothing, gentle, perfectly logical—and utterly wrong.
I pressed my palm to my temple as vision blurred. The stones beneath me warped, shifting shapes into faces—Kaelith, Lysara, and others I did not recognize. Some stared in sorrow. Others in condemnation.
Lysara grabbed my hand. "Eryndor, stay with me!"
But her voice felt distant, submerged beneath the rising tide of whispers clawing through my mind.
From the corner of my eye, the sky tore open—just a thin fracture of golden light, but unmistakable. Divine presence. Pressure flooded the air, forcing me to my knees. Lysara hissed, her wings instinctively shielding her face.
A voice rolled across the stones, neither male nor female, neither harsh nor gentle. Simply… vast.
"Bearer. You resist the inevitable."
The golden fracture widened. My fragments responded violently, pulsing like frantic heartbeats. I cried out—half in pain, half in panic—as the shards in my hands pulled toward the light.
Lysara shouted, "Stop! He's not ready!"
The voice ignored her.
"You endure, mortal, but endurance is not mastery. You cling to restraint… yet restraint is a chain you forged yourself."
The golden radiance intensified, and I felt a piece of myself unraveling—some quiet, fragile part that resisted relentlessly. The fragments' whispers rose, merging into a singular, intoxicating chorus.
"Accept us."
"Use us."
"Release us."
"Become more than mortal."
My fingers twitched. For a moment, I felt my grip slacken on restraint.
For a moment, I almost wanted to give in.
Then—
A blast of shadow ripped through the golden light. The fracture snapped closed like an eye shutting in irritation. The pressure vanished instantly.
Kaelith emerged from the darkness—broken, panting, trembling—but alive.
"You… fool…" he rasped, pointing at me with a shaking hand. "You think the gods test you? They do. But not alone. They test me too."
Lysara spread her wings defensively, but Kaelith barely looked at her. His eyes, bright with pain and fury, locked onto mine.
"We are both pieces on their board," he hissed. "Both pawns. Both trapped. But you—" He stepped forward, shadows clinging to his gaunt frame. "You carry fragments unadapted. Unyielded. Unrefined."
He leaned closer until his breath brushed my face.
"You hear whispers, don't you?"
A tremor shot down my spine.
But I nodded.
Kaelith's expression twisted—half triumph, half pity.
"Good," he whispered. "Because it means the same thing that happened to me… is happening to you."
The whispering in my mind surged like a tide breaking.
"Break… break… break…"
My knees buckled.
Kaelith gave a cruel, exhausted smile.
"Welcome to the curse of divinity."
Then he vanished into shadow, his laughter lingering like cracks spreading across a mirror.
I fell to the ground, clutching my head as the whispers intensified. Lysara knelt beside me, her voice trembling for the first time since I met her.
"Eryndor… your fracture is awakening."
The fragments pulsed in my hands—once warm, now cold and hungry.
And I realized with dawning horror:
This was only the beginning of losing myself.