The silence in this place was heavier than any silence I'd ever known.
Not like a library's hush, or a soundproof room. No, this silence felt like the world had given up trying to be heard here. Like sound itself had forgotten how to echo.
I stepped over cracked cobblestones, the sky above dim with gray clouds that hadn't moved in hours. Around me, shattered buildings leaned against each other like drunk ghosts. Statues, broken at the waist or missing heads entirely, stood half-swallowed by vines and ash.
The girl hadn't said a word since we left the summoning chamber.
She walked ahead, barefoot, robes dragging through dust. Her long white hair—definitely unnatural and just a bit too dramatic—flowed like it didn't belong in this world's air. She didn't look back. I still didn't know her name.
I jogged forward to close the distance. "So, uh. Nice weather for the apocalypse."
She glanced at me. Just once. Then kept walking.
"Do you talk? Or is this the part where I follow you into a murder basement?"
"No basements left," she said at last, her voice soft and far older than her face. "The city has been dead for a hundred years."
"Huh. Kinda rude no one told me I'd be vacationing in a ruin."
"You weren't meant to wake up yet."
That made me stop.
"What?"
She turned to face me fully now. Her eyes were silver—not like a poetic way to say gray. I mean *metallic*. Luminous. Unsettling.
"I summoned you," she said. "But not like this. Not this soon. Something went wrong."
"I noticed," I muttered. "I was supposed to be going home with biryani, not landing face-first in a satanic pressure cooker. Why am I even here?"
"You heard the voice."
I remembered. That moment when my mind… *bent*. The soundless whisper, the pressure behind my eyes, the words that weren't words.
"That was you?" I asked.
She shook her head. "That was the world."
Not helpful.
I sighed and looked around again. "This place. What *was* it?"
"The capital of Kaer Xal'zhur. Before they burned it from history."
My heart did a little acrobatic flip. "Right. Him again. Listen, I'm not Kaer Xal'zhur. I don't know what you people did to him, or why I have his eyebrows, but I'm just a guy."
She stared at me with a strange, distant sympathy. "That's what he said too."
Goosebumps. Real ones.
"I hate this," I muttered, mostly to myself. "I hate magic. I hate destiny. I hate that I got isekai'd into someone else's world-ending prophecy."
She turned and walked again, slower this time. I followed. I didn't exactly have options.
"You're not Kaer," she said eventually. "But the world doesn't know that. It remembers his name. His power. His presence."
"Okay, well, the world can go get therapy."
The corners of her mouth twitched. Almost a smile. Almost.
We reached what remained of a grand plaza—cracked marble, a shattered fountain in the center, and the worn outline of a once-massive statue base. The figure was long gone. Only the metal toes remained.
It had claws.
"The people here worshipped him?" I asked.
"They feared him. Revered him. Loved him. Until they sealed him away."
I felt the air grow heavier. Like something old still lingered under the stones.
"You waited here," I said slowly. "All this time. Alone?"
"Yes."
"For… what? Me?"
"I didn't know it would be you. I only knew the seal would break soon. I chose to be here when it did."
I looked around the dead city again. The empty sky. The ash-filled cracks in the road.
"And now that I'm here?"
She turned to face me fully, robes trailing behind her like ghosts.
"Now," she said, "we find out whether the world made a mistake… or a second Kaer."
We sheltered under what remained of an old archway—half-swallowed by ivy, cracked from age and battle. The sky had begun to dim, not quite sunset, but as if the world above had blinked and forgotten to reopen its eyes.
Lirien crouched near a crumbling wall and pulled a cloth-wrapped bundle from the shadows. She unwrapped it carefully. Inside were a few dried fruits, hard bread, and a flask.
"You really *have* been here a long time," I said.
"I was not alone at first," she said, not meeting my eyes. "Others believed the seal would break. Most gave up. Some didn't survive."
"You stayed," I said, accepting a piece of bread and immediately regretting it. I nearly broke a tooth. "Why?"
"Because someone had to."
There wasn't arrogance in her voice. Just quiet certainty. Like she'd long since made peace with it.
I chewed in silence, thinking.
"So what exactly *was* Kaer Xal'zhur?" I asked. "Demon lord? Evil god? Random guy with bad PR?"
"All of those," she said. "And none."
Great. Super clear.
"He was a mortal once," she went on. "Like you. He rose too fast, knew too much, and the gods feared him for it. So they branded him evil and sealed him beneath this city. They rewrote the story and buried the truth."
I stared at the blackened stone beneath us.
"And now they think I'm him."
"Not yet," she said. "But soon."
I stood. "That's not fair. I didn't choose this."
"Neither did he."
Her words hit harder than I expected. She stood too, brushing dust from her robes. "The world is quick to worship power. Quicker still to destroy it. Whether you run or rise, it will chase you."
"Comforting," I muttered. "So what's your plan then? Hide me in the ruins until everyone forgets again?"
"No," she said. "We train. We prepare. When they come—and they will—you won't be helpless."
I raised an eyebrow. "I'm just a guy with bad luck and no magic."
She stepped closer, silver eyes glinting in the dim light.
"You stepped through a seal meant to imprison a god. You bled shadows into sacred stone. The city whispered your name."
"I sneezed and cracked the ceiling. That's not magic, that's allergies."
A faint smile tugged at her mouth. Then, for the first time, she placed her hand over mine.
The contact was warm. Alive. And something *shifted*.
For a split second, I saw flashes—flames, a sword dripping with starlight, a throne of bones and banners, a sky split in two. My own face reflected in water, smiling like I didn't recognize myself.
Then it was gone.
"What the hell was that?" I gasped, pulling my hand back.
"A glimpse," she said. "Of what lies ahead. Of what you could become."
I stared at her.
"I don't want this."
"No one does," she said softly. "But now it wants you."
Far above us, thunder cracked—distant, unnatural. The wind changed.
We both looked up at the same time.
"They've noticed," Lirien whispered.
"Who?"
"The gods."
---