The wind howled across the scarred plain as dawn bled into the crimson horizon.
Troady awoke to silence — no monsters, no warriors, only the distant echo of the wind brushing against rusted blades half-buried in the dirt. The once-fiery battlefield had gone still, as if the world itself were catching its breath after surviving him.
He sat up slowly, clutching his chest. The Fragment of Aethern within him glowed faintly, like a tired heartbeat. "You again," he muttered. "You nearly tore the sky in half last time… and now you're pretending to nap?"
The shard pulsed once, like a faint chuckle.
Troady sighed. "Figures. Even my curse has attitude."
He scanned the horizon. Beyond the smoke lay the faint shimmer of light — not heavenly, but alive. Civilization. Or what remained of it. With no other choice, he started walking.
---
Hours blurred. He passed fallen banners of forgotten kingdoms, their crests faded into dust. Once-grand machines of war lay rusting, reclaimed by time. The world felt… ancient. Broken. But strangely familiar.
A whisper echoed in his mind — not divine, not demonic, but human.
> "Traveler…? You're alive?"
Troady froze. From behind a collapsed carriage, a girl emerged. Her cloak was torn, her eyes sharp yet tired. She aimed a small crossbow at him.
"Stay back. Are you one of the Wretched?"
"The what now?" Troady blinked, hands raised. "I'm just—uh—a very lost guy who apparently makes the universe trip over itself."
Her brow furrowed. "You… talk weird."
"Yeah, I get that a lot."
After a moment's hesitation, she lowered her weapon. "Name's Lira. You're lucky I found you before dusk. This land eats the careless alive."
Troady gave a weak laugh. "Then it's gonna love me."
---
Lira led him through the ruins into a hidden settlement — a village half-built inside a colossal fallen tree. Lanterns flickered dimly, powered by glowing crystals embedded in the bark. Survivors moved quietly, their eyes hollow but alert.
Troady noticed strange markings carved into the wood — spirals and runes that seemed to hum faintly near his chest. The shard reacted, glowing brighter.
Lira noticed. "That light… you carry a fragment, don't you?"
He froze. "You know about this?"
She nodded grimly. "Everyone does. The Fragments are the remains of fallen gods. Each one chooses a vessel… usually someone cursed beyond redemption. You must be one of the Lost Summoned."
Troady blinked. "Wait, there were others?"
"Dozens. Maybe hundreds. All summoned by the Divine Council… all dead."
A chill ran down his spine. "And what killed them?"
Lira's eyes darkened. "The same thing that hunts us all — the Nullspawn. The shadows born when a Fragment's vessel loses control."
Troady's heart sank. So that's my future…
---
Night fell. Troady sat by a dim fire outside the shelter, the shard glowing faintly within his chest. The village around him was peaceful — fragile, temporary peace built over a graveyard of worlds.
Lira sat beside him, silent for a while before asking softly,
"Do you ever miss your home?"
He looked at the stars — they weren't his, yet somehow felt familiar. "Every second. But I guess even the stars have a way of moving on."
Lira smiled faintly. "Then maybe you will too, Vessel of Misfortune."
Troady snorted. "Call me Troady. And let's skip the 'vessel' thing. Sounds like I'm a cursed teapot."
Lira laughed for the first time in what felt like years. "Fine, Troady."
As the laughter faded, the shard flickered with warmth. Somewhere deep inside, Troady felt something stir — not fear, not despair… but purpose.
For the first time since dying, he wasn't running.
He was exploring.
To be continued…