Days passed since Kethra's betrayal, but the sting of it stayed sharp in Zindra's mind. He and Liyaya moved like ghosts now — never sleeping in the same place twice, never letting their guard down. Each night, they mapped rumors of strange disappearances and people whispering about shadows that walked like men.
It wasn't long before those whispers led them to the edges of the city's forgotten places — abandoned churches, crumbling subway stations, hidden basements where flickering candles burned and men and women knelt before things they didn't understand.
They called themselves the Cult of the Shadow — broken souls who worshipped Sanavak as a god of deliverance. They believed the end of the world was the beginning of a new one — a place where pain and hunger would be devoured forever.
Zindra knew the truth. Sanavak devoured everything. Hope, life — even the mind.
One night, they tracked a lead to an old train yard — rusted cars swallowed by weeds, shadows flickering between them. Liyaya insisted on scouting ahead. Zindra wanted to protest but knew she was right — her human face drew less suspicion than his otherworldly aura.
Hidden behind a freight car, Zindra waited and watched her slip between the rows of steel and ivy, her footsteps silent. He trusted her with every part of his being. But trust can't stop fate.
She made it halfway to the flickering candlelight when the cult struck — shapes emerging from the dark like moths from rotting cloth. They grabbed her arms, muffling her cry.
Zindra leapt from his hiding place, but too late — a bright flash of powder blinded him, a trap laid for him alone. When his vision cleared, the train yard was empty. Liyaya was gone.
---
Hours later, in a dank basement lit by a ring of stolen neon signs, Liyaya sat bound to a chair. The cult leader, a gaunt man with pale eyes and cracked lips, watched her with unnerving calm.
"You are the one he trusts," the man rasped. "Zindra. The Sentinel. The Betrayer. Where is he hiding the rest of the light?"
Liyaya glared at him, her lip split but her eyes blazing. "You think Sanavak cares about you? He'll devour you too."
The leader smiled a broken smile. "No. He promised. He speaks in dreams. He is the god of the end. He will make me whole."
He leaned close enough for her to see the black veins crawling up his neck — proof that the cult was no longer just human. Sanavak's seed fed on them, turning them into living hosts.
Back in the forest clearing, Zindra knelt alone by the cold circle of stones. The Meakery Senlord pulsed inside him like a heartbeat made of rage and guilt. He had sworn to protect Earth — but now the one person he loved most had been taken because of him.
He pressed his palms to the stones. "Show me where she is," he whispered. The runes flared weakly — but it wasn't enough. He needed more.
Deep inside, the old voice of Cyne echoed: Return. Abandon this world. Let her go.
Zindra slammed his fist into the stone, runes sparking like falling stars. "No. I won't abandon her. Not ever."
He rose, eyes burning with a new resolve. If the cult wanted him — they'd get him. And when he came, he'd bring all the fury of a sentinel scorned by his own people and strengthened by Earth's stubborn fire.