The sky bled gray as the storm gathered overhead, thick with ancient power and suffocating dread. The wind howled like a wounded beast, scattering leaves and dust through the forest's edge as Sylas and Alira stood rooted before the advancing figures. Time itself seemed to hesitate. The words of the cloaked leader—the so-called Keeper of the Void—echoed in Sylas's mind, heavy with implication.
"We are the Keepers of the Void. And we have come to collect what is ours."
Sylas's grip on his sword tightened, the leather of the hilt creaking under his fingers. Alira's blade was already unsheathed, the polished steel glinting with residual light even under the brooding sky.
There were five figures in total. The leader sat atop a monstrous black steed whose eyes glowed faintly with pale violet light. Beside him, two others hovered unnaturally above the ground, their robes undisturbed by the wind. The final two were armored beings, silent and massive, their forms shrouded in black plate etched with glowing runes that pulsed with Void energy.
None of them looked human anymore.
"What do you want?" Sylas demanded, raising his voice over the wind.
The leader didn't immediately respond. Instead, he dismounted with eerie grace, landing without a sound. As his boots touched the earth, the ground beneath him blackened and cracked. He stepped forward, his presence suffocating, as though he carried the weight of the abyss with him.
"What you stole," he said finally, his voice cold and ancient. "You tampered with the Heart. You shifted the Balance."
"It was poisoned," Alira shot back, stepping beside Sylas. "We didn't steal anything. We cleansed it. Saved it."
The leader tilted his head, as if observing an insect attempting to roar. "The Heart was not for you to cleanse. It is a key, and keys have locks for a reason."
Sylas frowned. "A key… to what?"
"To us," the Keeper replied.
With a wave of his hand, the skies churned violently. From the stormclouds above, a piercing shriek broke through—the sound of something ancient waking. Something imprisoned. In the distance, the horizon shimmered like a heatwave, and then cracked, as if the very fabric of the world was beginning to split.
"The Heart was one of seven," he continued. "And when its purity was restored, it resonated. The seals we were bound beneath began to weaken. You've done more than cleanse the world… you've heralded our return."
Alira took a step back. "No… that's not possible. We didn't mean to—"
"But you did," he cut her off. "And intention means nothing now. The Void awakens. And you will either join us… or be consumed."
Sylas felt a weight drop into his chest. The rebalancing of the Heart wasn't the end. It was the ignition. The beginning of something older than the wars of men—older than magic itself.
Behind him, the forest groaned. Trees twisted. The light dimmed further. And somewhere, faint but unmistakable, voices began to whisper from the shadows. They murmured in languages neither he nor Alira could understand—fragmented, otherworldly.
Whispers of the Void.
"We can still stop this," Sylas said through clenched teeth. "If there are other Hearts, then we'll find them. Protect them. Seal whatever you're trying to unleash."
The Keeper laughed—a terrible, hollow sound. "You think this is still about protection? No. The awakening has begun. And you, Sylas, bearer of the Heart's Echo, are its harbinger."
Alira turned to him sharply. "What does he mean?"
But Sylas didn't answer. He couldn't. Because deep within his chest, just beneath his ribs, he felt it—something stirring. A pulsing energy. A resonance with the Void-born figures before him. The Heart had left something behind inside him. Something more than just magic.
The Keeper raised a hand, and the Void around him surged forward like a tide. Sylas shouted, leaping in front of Alira as the wave of shadow barreled toward them—but before it could strike, a blinding pillar of silver light erupted between them.
The wave shattered.
From the light, a figure emerged—hooded in white and gold, staff in hand, eyes gleaming with celestial fury.
"Enough," the new figure said. "They are under the protection of the Concord."
The Void-born recoiled slightly, but the Keeper didn't step back. "Ah… so the last Watcher still lives. How quaint."
The newcomer ignored him and turned to Sylas. "You must flee. The true war begins now."
"What are you?" Sylas asked.
"I am your last chance," the Watcher replied. "Run, Sylas. Protect the next Heart. Before it's too late."
The storm exploded behind them as the Keeper lunged forward, darkness lashing the ground, but the Watcher raised his staff, creating a shimmering barrier that held—just barely.
Sylas grabbed Alira's hand. She didn't hesitate. Together, they fled into the woods, the world collapsing around them.
Behind them, the Void screamed.
Ahead, only uncertainty awaited.
But one thing was now clear:
The storm had broken.
And the war of the Hearts had begun.