In a realm unseen by human eyes, the sky bore a strange hue—white tainted with brown, like a forgotten page from an unfinished book. Within this eerie space, a young boy of eleven sat atop a transparent, circular cloud that shimmered like glass, reflecting everything beneath it.
Above him loomed a massive moon in the shape of a clock, its hands moving counter to time itself, as if rewriting the past. Below his feet stretched an endless river—no beginning, no end—a flawless mirror that reflected all, yet revealed less than it concealed.
The cloud moved slowly, syncing with the moon's reversed ticking, while the boy—Nyktos—sat cross-legged, his deep-set eyes fixed on the river, carrying in their depths a weight no child his age should have borne.
Upon the river's surface unfolded countless scenes—billions of moments frozen in time, each belonging to a creature that had once lived in this world. The river's layers separated eras, each tier revealing the past of a different kind, as if it were the eternal archive of all existence.
Nyktos watched, studied, understood. But amid the ocean of memories, there was something wrong—something that didn't belong. He noticed it: the past was repeating, again and again, stretching back hundreds of years… as though it had been written before it ever happened.
It was then he understood the truth of himself—what he was, what he wasn't, and what had yet to be written. He grasped this world as no one ever had. And yet, he was still incomplete, for the river, despite all it showed, kept certain visions from him—especially those tied to his future transformation.
Nyktos tried to peer further, to glimpse what lay ahead. But the river remained still. The future was forbidden.
He closed his eyes for a moment, then raised his hand in the opposite direction. At that signal, the cloud ceased its forward drift and began to drift backward.
Above him, the lunar clock shifted, its hands righting themselves and ticking forward once more.
He kept retreating until he reached the present. At that point, the scenes in the river began to move forward with time, no longer trapped in static recollection.
Among billions of images, he fixed his gaze on one.
There, Louskas sat with Irissa, sharing roasted meat, laughing gently as he told her stories of the outside world.
Nyktos smiled softly and whispered,
"Hello, my friend… Thank you for surviving."
He had seen it all—every step Louskas had taken since entering the world of his Shard. Every thought, every breath. He had witnessed the moment he met Irissa.
Nyktos sighed, comforted by his friend's safety. And yet, somewhere in the depths of his mind, he could not forget what he had seen in the lowest layer of Louskas' Shard.
In that abyssal darkness, there was something…
A man, bound in thousands of chains, arms raised, his face drowned in shadow.
But amidst all that blackness, his monstrous eyes glowed. And the moment Nyktos tried to stare into them, the creature opened its mouth in a dreadful grin, revealing horrifyingly white teeth.
Agony pierced through Nyktos' skull. He coughed blood. His eyes began to bleed, refusing to stop.
He had seen something he was never meant to see.
Closing his eyes once more, he steadied his breath. Then he turned back to Louskas.
But this time, no smile lingered in his gaze.
Only resolve—fierce, unyielding.
"Without a doubt… I'll help you. Until death."