The training got harder.
Lyra pushed me to my limits every day—physical exhaustion, mental strain, emotional turmoil. She wanted me to break. She told me as much.
"Only when you break can you rebuild yourself," she said. "The old Eren—the ordinary boy who read physics textbooks and worried about exams—he can't survive what's coming. You need to become something else. Something stronger."
I understood the logic. I even agreed with it.
But that didn't make it any easier.
The week passed in a blur of sweat and pain.
I ran until my legs gave out. I sparred until my arms ached. I meditated until my mind felt like it was splitting in two. And every night, I collapsed into bed, too exhausted to dream.
It was progress, Lyra said.
It felt like torture.
"We need to talk about your mother."
The words hit me like a punch to the chest. I looked up from the practice sword I'd been gripping, my hands suddenly cold.
"What about her?"
Lyra's expression was careful, controlled. "I've been keeping tabs on her. Making sure she's safe. But there's something you need to know."
I felt my stomach drop. "Is she okay? Is she hurt?"
"She's fine," Lyra said quickly. "Physically, she's unharmed. But she's been looking for you. Asking questions. The authorities told her you were a casualty of the incident—that your body was never recovered."
I closed my eyes. My mother. The woman who'd raised me alone, who'd worked two jobs to keep the bookstore running, who'd stayed up late every night to make sure I was okay.
I'd abandoned her.
"Does she believe them?" I asked, my voice hoarse.
"I don't know," Lyra said. "But she hasn't stopped looking. She's been to the morgue twice. She's been to the police station three times. She's even been to the site where the Rift opened, searching for answers."
I opened my eyes. "She can't keep doing that. It's not safe."
"No," Lyra agreed. "It's not. Which is why I'm telling you. You need to decide what to do."
I stared at her. "Decide what to do? I can't just show up and say, 'Hey Mom, I'm alive, by the way, I've been training to fight monsters from another dimension.' She'd think I'd lost my mind."
"Then don't tell her the truth," Lyra said. "Tell her something else. Anything. Just give her closure. Let her know you're alive."
I was quiet for a long moment. "And then what? Just... disappear again?"
"If that's what it takes to keep her safe," Lyra said. "Yes."
I wanted to argue. I wanted to say that she was my mother, that I couldn't just abandon her, that I had a responsibility to be there for her.
But I also knew Lyra was right. The closer my mother got to the truth, the more danger she was in. The only way to protect her was to push her away.
"I need to see her," I finally said. "Just once. Just to let her know I'm okay."
Lyra studied me for a long moment. Then, slowly, she nodded.
"One hour," she said. "That's all I can give you. And if you're not back by then, I'll come find you."
"Thank you," I said.
She didn't respond. But something in her eyes softened, just slightly.
The bookstore looked exactly the same.
I stood across the street, hidden in the shadow of an alleyway, watching the familiar sign swing gently in the evening breeze. The lights were on inside. I could see movement through the window—a figure, pacing back and forth.
My mother.
I felt my throat tighten. I'd been gone for two weeks. Two weeks of fighting, training, dreaming. Two weeks of becoming something that wasn't quite human anymore.
I didn't know if I could face her.
But I had to.
The bell above the door chimed as I stepped inside.
The bookstore smelled the same—paper and dust and the faint scent of my mother's perfume. The shelves were the same, the old wooden counter was the same, the faded posters on the wall were the same.
Everything was the same.
Except me.
"Eren?"
The voice was a whisper. A broken whisper that made my heart clench.
I turned.
My mother was standing in the doorway to the back room, her hand pressed to her mouth, her eyes wide and wet. She looked older than I remembered. Thinner. More tired.
"Mom," I said. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
She crossed the room in three steps and pulled me into a hug so tight I could barely breathe. Her body shook with sobs.
"I thought you were dead," she said, her voice muffled against my shoulder. "The police said... they said you were... I thought I'd lost you."
"I know," I said, my own voice cracking. "I know. I'm sorry. I couldn't—there wasn't time—I didn't want to—"
"Shh," she said. "It doesn't matter. You're here. You're alive. That's all that matters."
We stood there for a long moment, holding each other. I felt the tears on my face, but I didn't try to stop them. For the first time in weeks, I let myself feel.
When we finally pulled apart, my mother led me to the back room and made me sit down.
"You look terrible," she said, wiping her eyes. "Have you been eating? Sleeping?"
"Not really," I admitted.
She clucked her tongue. "I knew it. I'll make you something. You wait right there."
She bustled into the small kitchen, and I watched her go, my heart aching. She was treating me like I was still her little boy, still the same person I'd always been. She didn't know what I'd become. Didn't know the things I'd done.
I almost wished I could stay.
She brought me a bowl of soup and a glass of water, and she sat across from me while I ate. She didn't ask where I'd been. She didn't ask what had happened. She just sat there, watching me, like she was afraid I'd disappear if she looked away.
"Mom," I said, setting down my spoon. "I need to tell you something."
She tensed. "What is it?"
"I... I can't stay," I said. "There's something I have to do. Something important. And I don't know when I'll be back."
She was quiet for a moment. Then she reached across the table and took my hand.
"I know," she said. "I've known since the night the sky broke. I saw you on the roof, Eren. I saw what you did."
I froze. "You... you saw that?"
"I didn't understand it," she said. "I still don't. But I knew—I knew that something had changed. That you'd changed." She squeezed my hand. "You're not the same boy who left that night. And I know you can't come back. Not yet."
I felt tears prickling at my eyes again. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"Don't be," she said. "I'm proud of you. Whatever you're doing—whatever you've become—I know you're doing it for the right reasons. You've always had a good heart, Eren. That's the one thing that hasn't changed."
I didn't know what to say. So I just nodded, and held her hand, and tried to memorize the feeling of her touch.
"I have to go," I finally said.
She nodded, her eyes glistening. "I know."
"I'll come back," I said. "I promise. When this is over, I'll come back."
"Promise me something else," she said. "Promise me you'll stay alive."
I met her eyes. "I promise."
She pulled me into another hug. "I love you, Eren. I love you more than anything."
"I love you too, Mom."
The walk back to the safehouse was silent.
Lyra was waiting for me at the entrance, her expression unreadable. She must have seen the tears on my face, because she didn't say anything. She just nodded, and led me inside.
"How did it go?" she finally asked.
"I told her I couldn't stay," I said. "She said she knew. She said she was proud of me."
Lyra was quiet for a moment. "She's a strong woman."
"She is," I agreed. "Stronger than me."
"Don't underestimate yourself," Lyra said. "Strength isn't just about fighting. It's about holding on, even when everything falls apart. You're stronger than you know, Eren. You just don't see it yet."
I wanted to believe her. I really did.
That night, I didn't dream of the field.
I dreamed of my mother. Of the bookstore. Of the life I'd left behind. And when I woke up, I felt a strange sense of peace.
I was ready. Ready to face whatever came next.
The next day, the Rift opened again.
I was in the training room when it happened. The violet runes on the walls blazed to life, brighter and hotter than I'd ever seen them. The ground shook. The air grew thick and heavy.
And in my chest, the hum became a roar.
"Eren!" Lyra burst through the door, her face pale. "The Rift—it's opening. We need to go. Now."
I didn't ask questions. I just grabbed my practice sword—the same wooden blade I'd been training with—and followed her.
The Rift was in the heart of the city.
We arrived to find chaos. The sky was split open, a jagged wound of white light that bled shadows into the streets. The creatures were already there—dozens of them, crawling out of the wound like insects from a nest. They were larger than the one I'd killed, more grotesque, more wrong.
And they were attacking the people.
"Stay with me!" Lyra shouted, her starlight blade already in her hand. "We need to hold them off until the Hunters arrive!"
I nodded, my heart pounding. This was it. The moment I'd been training for.
The moment I'd been dreading.
The first creature lunged at me.
I didn't think. I just moved. The practice sword swung up, and violet energy erupted from my arm, coating the blade in darkness. The creature screamed as I cut through its shadow-flesh, and it dissolved into ash.
Three more took its place.
I fought. I dodged. I struck. The power inside me surged, and every strike was stronger than the last. But there were too many. They kept coming, kept pressing, kept trying to overwhelm me.
And then Lyra was beside me, her blade flashing, and the creatures fell before us.
"Behind you!" she shouted.
I spun. A creature was lunging at me, its too-many limbs reaching for my throat. I raised my sword—
And a bolt of lightning struck it from behind.
The creature disintegrated. I turned to see Zed standing behind me, his hands crackling with energy.
"Don't just stand there!" he shouted. "Move!"
I moved.
The battle lasted for hours.
We fought through the streets, driving the creatures back to the Rift. Hunters arrived, their elements blazing. Supporters followed, healing the wounded. Larkers guided us, their white eyes seeing what we couldn't.
And at the center of it all, I fought.
I fought until my arms ached. I fought until my lungs burned. I fought until I couldn't remember what it felt like to not be fighting.
And then, finally, it was over.
The last creature fell. The Rift began to close. And I collapsed to my knees, gasping for breath.
Lyra was beside me in an instant. "Eren! Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," I said. "Just... tired."
She helped me to my feet. "You did good. Really good."
"Really?"
She smiled. "Really. You fought like a Voidwalker."
I looked at my hands. The violet markings were glowing faintly, pulsing with the last traces of my power.
"I did it," I said. "I actually did it."
"Don't sound so surprised," a voice said.
I looked up. Zed was standing a few feet away, his arms crossed. For the first time, he didn't look angry.
"Not bad for a beginner," he said.
I blinked. "Did you just... compliment me?"
"Don't let it go to your head," he said. "You've still got a long way to go."
But he was almost smiling.
That night, the Order celebrated.
It was a small gathering—Hunters, Supporters, Larkers, all gathered in the main hall. There was food and drink and laughter, and for the first time since I'd arrived, I felt like I belonged.
Mira found me in the corner, nursing a glass of water.
"Tired?" she asked.
"Exhausted," I admitted.
She laughed. "You earned it. That was incredible, what you did out there."
"I just did what I had to do."
"That's exactly what makes it incredible," she said. "You didn't freeze. You didn't run. You fought."
I looked at her. "Thank you. For believing in me."
She smiled. "Always."
We stood in comfortable silence for a moment.
"What happens now?" I asked.
She looked up at the ceiling, her expression thoughtful. "We wait. The Rift will open again. It always does. And when it does, we'll be ready."
I nodded. I could live with that.
That night, I dreamed of Kael again.
He was waiting for me in the field of black grass, his expression sad but peaceful.
"You did good, Eren," he said. "You're getting stronger."
"Thank you," I said. "For everything. For showing me what it means to be a Voidwalker."
He smiled. "You showed yourself. I just gave you a push."
I was quiet for a moment. "I have to ask you something."
"Ask."
"I've been thinking about your soul. Your spirit. The part of you that's trapped in the Void. Is there any way to free you?"
Kael was quiet. Then, slowly, he nodded. "There might be. But it's dangerous. And it might cost more than you're willing to give."
"I'm not afraid of danger," I said.
"I know," he said. "That's what worries me."
I woke up with a single thought in my mind.
I was going to save Kael. No matter what it cost.
End of Chapter