They ran.
Branches clawed at their skin, roots reached to trip them, and every breath was fire in their lungs. Yet Sylas and Alira didn't stop—not for a second. Behind them, the world fractured in ways that defied reason. The Watcher's light was a distant flicker now, swallowed by the Voidstorm that pursued them like a living beast. Every now and then, the forest itself seemed to moan, as if awakening to an old nightmare.
Sylas didn't know where his feet were taking him, only that they had to keep moving. The echo in his chest was stronger now—like a second heartbeat, erratic and wild.
They burst into a clearing, and only then did Sylas collapse to his knees, gasping. Alira knelt beside him, blood on her brow, her face pale with terror and disbelief.
"What just happened?" she asked.
Sylas didn't answer at first. He stared at his trembling hands. Faint lines of violet light danced along his veins. His vision swam with flashes—memories that weren't his. A city of black towers. A voice speaking in riddles. A woman weeping as stars fell from the sky.
"I think… the Heart left something inside me," he finally said.
Alira looked at him in silence, eyes wide. "You're saying it marked you? Like a… vessel?"
He nodded. "Or worse… a conduit."
Thunder rumbled again—closer now. The Keeper wouldn't give up. Not after what he'd revealed. The Heart was only one of seven. And now, the battle for the others had begun.
Sylas looked around. "We need to reach the Archives."
"The Archives? In the Capital?" Alira hesitated. "You think they'll have anything about this?"
"If anyone does, it's the Archanists," he said. "Legends, records, forbidden maps—they hoard secrets like gold."
Alira helped him to his feet. "Then let's move. Before we're swallowed whole."
But before they could step forward, the ground beneath them groaned.
A massive rift split the clearing.
They barely jumped back in time as an abyss yawned open, swallowing the earth with a deafening crack. From the pit, something rose—slowly, deliberately. A creature of pure shadow, yet shaped like a man. Its body was segmented by runes that glowed with the same light Sylas had seen on the Keeper's soldiers.
Alira drew her blade. "Voidspawn."
It didn't roar. Didn't screech. It simply watched. Its featureless face turned toward Sylas as though it recognized him.
Sylas drew his sword too, even though his limbs were weak and the magic inside him pulsed chaotically.
Then the Voidspawn did something unexpected.
It knelt.
Sylas froze.
Alira took a step forward, uncertain. "Is it… submitting?"
The creature extended one hand toward Sylas, as if offering something. A sphere of pulsing black and silver hovered in its palm—shifting, breathing.
He hesitated, but the Heart's echo surged in response. It called to him.
"Sylas," Alira warned, "don't."
"I need to understand," he said softly. "This isn't just corruption. It's ancient. Structured. Intentional."
Against every instinct, Sylas reached out.
The moment his fingers touched the sphere, a jolt ripped through him.
Vision.
A black mountain crowned with fire.
A gate, ancient and sealed with seven chains.
A woman in white, eyes blind but weeping shadows.
And above it all…
A name.
Kael'Tharion.
Sylas gasped, yanked back into reality.
The Voidspawn was gone.
The rift had sealed.
Alira rushed to his side. "Sylas! Are you—?"
He nodded shakily. "I saw something. A name. A place."
"What name?"
He looked into her eyes, his own filled with horror and awe.
"Kael'Tharion. I think… it's where the true seal lies."
Alira whispered the name as if tasting it. "The name of a prison?"
"Or a god," Sylas said. "And we just rattled its cage."
They didn't speak again as they began their journey to the Capital. The wind carried whispers behind them, and the sky remained fractured, bruised with the scars of what had been unleashed.
And far away, in a tower long forgotten, a cloaked figure opened his eyes and smiled.
"The bearer awakens."