Chapter 978 – The Weight of Becoming
The council chamber buzzed with low, deliberate voices, the rhythmic clatter of pens, and the scraping of parchment as Kael's inner circle assembled. Long banners of obsidian and gold draped down the curved walls, and a faint glow of crystal-light spilled from the ceiling, bathing the Hollow's leaders in a sharp, ethereal hue.
Eris stood quietly near the far end of the table, behind Lyria and to Kael's right — not seated, but standing in that graceful, statuesque stillness that once marked her as something other.
But now, she was something in-between.
Her mind was chaos.
For the first time in her existence, her thoughts didn't follow patterns or logic. They came and went like wind through cracks — warmth and cold, joy and unease, Kael's voice and Lyria's smile, all tangled into a storm that refused to quiet.
Kael was speaking now — strong, calm, steady. His voice carried the authority of someone who could will nations to move.
"The two kingdoms will rebuild," Kael said, tapping the edge of a map. "And with the hero slain and the god gone, there's a vacuum. People are afraid. The world is looking for new legends — for something to believe in. That's our chance."
Varik frowned. "You mean… to manipulate belief?"
"Not manipulate," Kael replied smoothly, "guide it."
The table murmured. Lyria folded her arms, watching Kael with that half-smile she reserved for when he was about to say something reckless and brilliant all at once.
"What are you thinking?" she asked.
Kael leaned forward, eyes gleaming faintly with his daemon's light. "We create a hero."
The room went still.
"Not a real one," he clarified. "A symbol. A crafted champion who walks the surface under our guidance — someone who fights monsters, heals villages, saves lives. The Hollow's shadow will remain unseen, but its reputation will grow brighter with every tale told."
Eris blinked. "A false hero?"
Kael turned his gaze to her, that calm smirk tugging at his lips. "A living one. A hero born from truth, but shaped by our hand. We've built armies and engines, but people follow stories. If the world learns to trust the light we choose to cast, we control the dawn that follows."
The room stirred again. Even Lyria had to admit — it was clever. Dangerous, but clever.
Eris watched Kael, and something inside her stirred — not admiration this time, but ache. His voice was magnetic, the way he spoke with certainty, how his plans always seemed to hold the weight of destiny.
She loved how he thought. She hated that she loved it.
Her hands clenched at her sides, unseen beneath the shadow of her cloak. The Hollow's air felt thicker suddenly, or maybe it was just her pulse — a faint rhythm she couldn't steady.
Kael's plan unfurled further — tactics, logistics, narratives — and Eris tried to listen, but her focus kept splintering between Kael's steady tone and Lyria's quiet presence beside him.
When Kael gestured toward the map, Lyria leaned closer, their shoulders brushing briefly. Eris's chest tightened. Not from jealousy — at least, she told herself it wasn't — but from something.
Something unfamiliar and unwelcome.
Why did it matter that Lyria touched him so casually? Why did she feel a pull when Kael's eyes softened at Lyria's remark? And why, when Lyria smiled at her later that moment, did Eris's heart flutter in the same dizzying way?
It made no sense. None of it did.
Her existence had once been clarity — purpose measured in absolutes. Now she couldn't even measure the space between her thoughts.
Kael's voice drew her back: "Eris, you'll oversee information control. I want rumors of this hero to begin spreading in the border towns — nothing too direct, but enough to plant the seed."
She straightened. "Understood."
But her tone was too sharp, too fast. Kael noticed. His golden eyes lingered a moment longer than usual, and she had to look away.
He continued the meeting, assigning tasks, refining ideas. But in the silence between words, Eris felt her confusion growing like a vine through her chest — twisting around her logic, feeding on her thoughts.
She loved Kael's mind. She admired his strength. She wanted his approval.
She loved Lyria's laughter. She admired her compassion. She wanted her touch.
She wanted both, and yet she couldn't understand why — or what that made her.
When the meeting ended and the council began to disperse, Kael stopped by the balcony to overlook the Hollow. Lyria followed him, resting a hand on his arm. They exchanged a few quiet words she couldn't hear.
Eris stayed behind, standing by the empty table, eyes locked on the flickering candlelight.
She pressed her hand to her chest. Her pulse was racing again.
"This is what emotion does," she whispered to herself. "It breaks the order of thought. It pulls logic apart."
She wanted to stop it — this storm of warmth and ache and longing — but even as she thought it, she knew she didn't truly want it gone.
She wanted to feel.
Even if it hurt.
That night, when the Hollow grew quiet and only the soft hum of the Stellar Engine echoed from the depths, Eris stood alone on one of the higher terraces.
Below, she could see Lyria and Kael walking together along the illuminated garden path, laughing softly — a rare, gentle moment between two people who had seen too much war.
She smiled faintly. Then she frowned.
It wasn't jealousy. It wasn't even longing.
It was… confusion wrapped in desire.
And deep inside her, the spark of something fragile but powerful took root — not the artificial seed that Kael once gave her, but something born of her own will.
Emotion. Real, human emotion.
And it terrified her more than any god ever could.