The ruins pressed in, silent and watchful, while the last light smeared itself across the horizon. Jace walked next to Theo, the question he hadn't dared to ask chewing at the edges of his mind. The silence stretched, heavy, until Theo finally broke it—his voice low, like he was afraid the shadows might overhear.
"You asked what the Great Fracture was. The story passed down is this: mortals grew greedy, reaching for dominion over what was never theirs. The gods grew angry at that greed, and in their wrath, they descended upon the land. Their punishment was the dark energy — Aether — unleashed upon the world."
His crimson eyes flicked toward the horizon, expression unreadable. "That descent shattered reality. Rifts tore open across the land, wounds in the fabric of existence. And from those rifts the dark energy poured out, seeping into the earth, the air, the marrow of humankind. It spread until it enveloped everything. That is why we now live beneath the Twilight Veil."
Theo's tone sharpened, precise. "Only one man learned to wield it — the Great Magician. He knew he could not stand against the gods alone, so he wandered, searching for warriors of tremendous power. He spoke of the Fool's Prophecy, a riddle foretelling a coming chaos. His will was to unite twenty‑one warriors alongside himself to confront the gods."
Theo's jaw tightened. "But he never succeeded. The warriors were never gathered. And no one knows if the gods truly descended... or if they still wait beyond the veil. That uncertainty shaped the world we live in now."
He went quiet, eyes locked on Jace—cold, measuring, like he was trying to see straight through him.
Jace stopped in his tracks, shaking his head. "Bullshit."
Theo's eyes narrowed. "Careful."
"That's not history," Jace pressed, frustration cutting through his voice. "That's a fairy tale. A bedtime story dressed up as prophecy."
Theo's expression didn't change, but his tone carried a dangerous edge. "Then speak. If you claim truth, prove it."
Jace exhaled, steadying himself. "Before I was put in cryostasis, the world was at war. The Eurasian Federation against the United Global Front. Two alliances tearing each other apart — World War Three. That's why bunkers were built. Nuclear tension was at its peak, and the UGF was developing bioweapons."
Theo's gaze sharpened, but he said nothing, letting Jace continue.
"One of their facilities discovered that dark energy you keep talking about. I saw the tapes — they ran tests, but everything went wrong. The energy broke out. The Federation thought it was deliberate, so they launched nukes at UGF territory. Fallout was inevitable. And the dark energy wasn't contained. That's what ended the world. Not gods. Not prophecies. Just war, nukes, and a failed experiment."
Silence settled between them, thick enough to choke on. Two stories, two versions of the end of the world, staring each other down.
Theo's crimson eyes lingered on Jace, cold but thoughtful. "Then either your world was a lie... or mine is."
Jace felt his chest tighten. For the first time, he wondered if maybe both stories were true—if myth and war were just different names for the same disaster.
He let out a breath. "Look, I get it. A hundred years is a long time for facts to get blurry. What you've got is just the leftovers—stories passed down until they barely look like the truth."
Theo's tone was clipped. "Most citizens grew from this history. That's why we still fight for it."
Jace tilted his head. "Let me tell you this — why do you think myth is created?"
Theo's reply was immediate, calculated. "To explain what people don't understand. To give them something to cling to. To keep order."
"Wrong," Jace said firmly. "Myth is something to explain the origins of the world, but without the technicality or science behind it."
Theo's eyes narrowed further. "So you're saying it's false... but also true? I don't follow, kid."
"Kind of," Jace admitted. "Sometimes these tales are meant to tell something about the origins... or to disguise it."
Theo's voice cut in, sharp. "Disguise it? For what purpose?"
"That's exactly what we have to find out," Jace replied. "If history is flawed, then maybe everything mankind is fighting for is useless."
Theo didn't answer. The silence pressed in, his face giving away nothing.
Jace crouched and dug through his bag, fingers closing around a battered file—edges chewed up by time and too many close calls. "Figured this might come in handy." He passed it over. Inside: records from the silo, scribbled notes, diagrams, blueprints. Proof, or at least something that looked like it.
Theo flipped through the pages, every movement careful, almost surgical. The words meant nothing to him, but the diagrams and the way everything fit together—too detailed to be fake.
Jace watched him carefully. "Have you checked other silos before?"
Theo nodded once. "Mostly damaged. Collapsed. Ruined."
"They're mostly underground, right?" Jace pressed.
"Yeah. All of them."
"That's the reason why," Jace said firmly. "Radiation. It can't penetrate easily into the ground. It's invisible unless you have a gauge or meter to detect it. These traces... they came from nuclear bombs and warheads."
Theo's voice faltered for the first time. "Wait... nuclear is bombs?"
"Yeah," Jace said grimly. "One is enough to destroy an entire continent."
Theo's eyes narrowed, cold disbelief flickering. "You're joking."
Jace gestured around them. "Why do you think we're in a barren wasteland? Aether alone can't make this kind of massive destruction, don't you think?"
Theo froze, crimson eyes narrowing as the pieces clicked together. His tone was low, dangerous. "...It makes sense."
For the first time, he felt himself tipping toward Jace's side. Nuclear fire and Aether—maybe both real, maybe both just different flavors of the same nightmare.
Theo closed the file with a snap, his movements precise. He stood, tightening his cloak as the faint glow of dawn crept across the ruins. "Sunrise. We move." His voice carried no warmth, only command.
But Jace's words stuck, echoing in the back of his mind. Nuclear fire. Secrets buried under ash. If it was war, not gods, that broke the world, then maybe everything the Authority fought for was just a story. And if that story cracked open—maybe, just maybe, it would be enough to start something new.