Darkness faded.
But the echo of her voice lingered — a cold imprint etched in his bones.
He blinked, still wrapped in Lira's shield of fractured light.
"What now?" he asked, breath shaky.
Lira's eyes scanned the widening fracture, now pulsing like a living wound in the sky.
"Now we find the root — the origin of the fracture."
He touched his chest.
The seed beneath his skin throbbed.
"I can feel it growing."
"Good," Lira said.
"It's the only thing that can close the wound."
They moved through twisted streets, debris sparkling with shards of light.
Every step echoed with whispers — faint voices of the lost, calling from places just beyond reach.
The city seemed alive.
Breathing.
Watching.
Suddenly, the ground beneath them cracked open.
From the fissure, a twisted vine shot out — black as night, but pulsing with a crimson glow.
It wrapped around his ankle, cold and strong.
He tugged, but the vine tightened.
A voice hissed in his mind.
"You carry the fracture's root.
Give yourself to the darkness — and be whole."
He gritted his teeth, summoning the seed's light.
Roots burst from his chest, wrapping around the black vine.
They tangled, pulsing in a deadly dance.
Lira shouted.
"Fight it!
The fracture feeds on fear and doubt!"
With a roar, he pulled the vine free — but the struggle left him gasping.
The seed pulsed wildly, a storm inside his chest.
"This is only the beginning," he whispered.
Above them, the fracture shimmered, alive and hungry.
The Echo's voice echoed faintly — a promise or a threat.
"Remember."
He looked at Lira.
"I don't know what's coming.
But I do know one thing."
"What?"
"I'm not afraid anymore."
The city held its breath.
And the seed inside him whispered back.
"Neither am I."
End of Chapter 9.