The air in the small, quiet garden behind the Builder's headquarters was cool and still. It was the only place in the entire faction that didn't feel like a workshop. Here, a few resilient, grey-leafed trees grew, their roots sunk deep into the stable data of the city. And in the center of the garden, beneath the shade of the largest tree, stood a single, simple monument.
It wasn't a grand statue or an ornate tomb. It was just one perfect, polished slab of obsidian, the same kind of stone that formed the basin where he had fallen. Etched into its surface was a single name, 'Silas', and below it, the crest of the Builder Faction—the hammer and the gear. There was no date of birth, no date of death. Just a name, and the symbol of the family he belonged to. It was simple, solid, and enduring. It was perfect.
A few more days had passed since I had woken up. The sharp, agonizing edge of grief had dulled, replaced by a constant, heavy ache in my chest. A permanent emptiness. I found myself drawn to this spot every morning before my duties began, a silent ritual to a friend I had known for far too short a time.
"Hey, Silas," I said, my voice quiet in the morning calm. I leaned against the trunk of the tree, looking at the obsidian marker. "Things are… normal, I guess."
I let out a small, tired sigh. "Fen and I are back on the walls. We're working on the northern section today. Apparently, the foundation there is showing signs of data-fraying. Fen says it's boring, but important. I think he's right." I managed a weak smile. "It feels good, you know? To build something. To fix what's broken. I think I finally understand why you guys take so much pride in it."
The silence that answered was a familiar, painful weight.
"Erina still stops by," I continued, my gaze drifting toward the distant spire of the Administrator Faction. "She brought some kind of sweet bread from the Merchant's district yesterday. Said it was a 'get well soon' gift, even though I'm already healed. I think… I think she just feels guilty. She keeps asking if I'm okay. I keep telling her I am."
Was I okay? I wasn't sure. But I was functioning. I was working. I was moving. It felt like the best I could do right now.
"Everyone's back to their routines. Valerius is in the training yard, trying to beat his own reaction time. Elara is… well, she's being Elara. Staring at things I can't see. Lyra is keeping everything running, as always. On the surface, it's like nothing ever changed."
My smile faded, the ache in my chest intensifying. "But it's not the same. Dinner is… it's too quiet now. Your chair is still there. No one sits in it. Lyra still puts a plate there sometimes, out of habit, before she remembers. And we all just… pretend not to see it." I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. "It's hard. Seeing that empty space where you're supposed to be."
I pushed myself off the tree and walked closer to the obsidian stone, my fingers tracing the smooth, cool letters of his name.
"But we're trying," I whispered. "We're all trying to move on. Fen is working harder. Valerius is training harder. I think… I think we're all trying to fill the hole you left. It's a stupid way of grieving, I guess. But it's all we know how to do."
I looked up, past the walls of the garden, toward the bustling city beyond. A city that was safe, a city that had a future, because of what he had done.
"You gave us that future, Silas," I said, my voice gaining a new, firmer resolve. "You bought it for us. With everything you had. So I'm not going to waste it. I'm going to get stronger. Not for revenge. Not anymore. But to protect this place. To protect them. To make sure a sacrifice like yours never has to happen again."
I stood there for a long moment, a silent promise passing between me and the memory of my friend. I would live up to the chance he had given me.
My thoughts turned to the architect of that future. "The Builder's been gone, mostly," I added, a final update. "Lyra says the expansion project is already underway. The teleporter is stable, and he's been spending nearly all his time in the new zone, laying the foundation. Our mission… it was a success. You did it, Silas. You secured the new world."
A faint, sad smile touched my lips. It was time to go. Fen would be waiting. The wall needed mending. Life, as it always did, went on.
I gave the obsidian marker one last, lingering look. "See you tomorrow, man."
I turned to leave, my duty paid, my promise made.
And my heart nearly stopped.
The Builder was standing right behind me.
He hadn't made a sound. There had been no footstep, no shift in the air, no warning at all. One moment I was alone with my grief, and the next, he was simply there, a solid, overwhelming presence that seemed to absorb the very light around him. His dark, unkempt hair was the same, but the usual profound exhaustion in his eyes was overshadowed by a new, sharp urgency.
I was so startled that I stumbled back a step, my mind scrambling to catch up. He hadn't been seen in the main building for days. To have him appear here, now, so suddenly…
"Builder," I stammered, instinctively straightening up, my mind racing. "I… I didn't hear you approach."
He didn't acknowledge my surprise. His gaze flickered from me to the obsidian stone bearing Silas's name, and for a fraction of a second, an emotion I couldn't decipher—a deep, ancient sorrow—passed through his sharp eyes before vanishing. His focus then returned to me, direct and absolute.
"Kael," he said, his voice the low, resonant rumble of deep earth. "Follow me."
It wasn't a request. It was a command, imbued with a gravity that left no room for questions or hesitation.
"It is important," he added, as if sensing the unspoken question in my mind.
That was all he said. He turned, his dark coat swirling around him, and began walking away from the garden, toward the deeper, more private sections of the headquarters.
My mind was a whirlwind of confusion. What was so important that he would come to find me personally? Why now? Was it about the expansion? Was it about the Fallen Founder?
The old Kael would have been a mess of stammering questions. But I wasn't the old Kael anymore. I had faced down a hero's ghost. I had held a dying friend's sacrifice in my hands. I had come to understand that in this world, when the Builder said something was important, you didn't ask questions. You acted.
Without another word, I fell into step behind him, my heart pounding with a mixture of apprehension and a strange, new sense of purpose. My quiet morning of remembrance was over. Something new was beginning. And I had a feeling it would change everything.