The Progenitor's Realm was a graveyard of dead gods. Jagged crystal spires clawed at a sky choked with mercury clouds, their peaks glinting like shattered teeth. Acid rain hissed as it fell, etching pockmarks into the obsidian earth.
The raven soared through the toxic air, its golden feathers streaked with ash, a sliver of Ethan's fading essence clutched in its talons. The shard pulsed faintly, a dying star in the grip of a creature that refused to let go.
"This place reeks of dead gods," the bird muttered, banking sharply to avoid a bolt of lightning that split the air like a whip. "Perfect."
It descended toward the realm's heart—a crater where a monolith of black obsidian loomed, its surface etched with glyphs older than language.
The Progenitor's last testament. At its base, a pool of iridescent liquid shimmered, untouched by time. The First Duskheir's ichor. The raven landed, its claws scraping the ancient stone, and plunged the shard into the pool.
The ichor ignited. Golden flames erupted, searing the raven's feathers to cinders. It screamed—a raw, human sound—as Ethan's form coalesced from the fumes, translucent and trembling.
"Why… bring me here?" Ethan's voice fractured, his edges blurring like smoke.
The raven collapsed, its smoldering wings twitching.
"Because you're not done yet."
In the Crossroads, the war council teetered on the edge of violence. Veyra's fist slammed onto the table, cracking the Dralei banner beneath it.
"We're wasting time debating relics while the void regroups!"
Kiren's shadow-walkers flanked her, their tattoos pulsing like live wires.
"The Ashirai will not kneel to Dralei lies. The First Duskheir's relics belong to those who understand their power."
A Dralei lieutenant sneered, bone armor clattering.
"Understanding? You pray to shadows. We wield them."
The tension shattered when a scout staggered in, her face streaked with blood.
"The western rift—it's reforming! Cedric's there… but changed."
Veyra and Kiren locked eyes, their rivalry eclipsed by dread.
"Move out," Veyra snarled, snatching her blade. "And you—" She jabbed a finger at Kiren. "—try not to get your mystics killed."
Kiren's smile was a blade. "Focus on keeping your steel sharp, Dralei."
Cedric stood at the rift's maw, his body a grotesque tapestry of void-flesh and shattered armor. The void had reforged him—not as a king, but as a conduit. His sword, fused to his arm, pulsed with the abyss's rhythm.
"Pathetic," he spat, watching Dralei and Ashirai forces advance. "You cling to scraps of a dead legacy."
A shadow-walker lunged, dagger aimed at his throat. Cedric flicked his wrist, and the warrior unraveled, his screams swallowed by the void.
"For the First Duskheir!" a Dralei warrior roared, charging.
"The First is ash!" Cedric laughed, bisecting the man mid-stride.
He froze.
Ethan materialized before him, his form flickering, the raven's scorched feathers clinging to his shoulders like armor.
"You never learn, do you?" Ethan said, his voice echoing as though from the bottom of a well.
The clash that followed shook the earth. Ethan moved like a storm of fractured light, his strikes unpredictable, his body less substance than will. Cedric's void-blade screeched against Ethan's spectral spear, each collision birthing shockwaves that scarred the ground.
"Look at you—a ghost playing hero," Cedric taunted, his grin splitting his face too wide. "The void will feast on your sorrow."
"Sorrow's all you ever left me," Ethan replied, quiet as a grave.
The raven swooped, talons raking Cedric's eyes. Void-blood sprayed, sizzling where it struck stone.
"Finish him!" the bird shrieked, its voice fraying.
Ethan hesitated.
In that moment, Cedric's blade found his chest—not to pierce, but to merge.
"You're just like me," Cedric hissed, void-energy surging into Ethan's veins. "Hungry. Hollow."
Memories flooded Ethan, his mother's death, Mara's sacrifice, the Ashirai's scorn. The rift pulsed, feeding on his anguish.
"I… won't…" Ethan gasped, collapsing to his knees.
The raven lunged, beak tearing at Cedric's wrist. "Fight it!"
Back at the monolith, the raven staggered, one wing mangled, an eye seared shut. It stared at the pool of ichor, Ethan's shard dark and brittle in its talons.
"Wake up, you stubborn relic!" it shrieked at the glyphs.
The monolith trembled. The Progenitor's voice boomed—not a sound, but a pressure, crushing the air.
The Duskheir's path ends in sacrifice. Will you pay it?
The raven didn't hesitate. It plunged its beak into its own chest, golden blood mingling with the ichor. The monolith erupted, its power surging into the shard.
"Don't… you dare… die…" the bird whispered, collapsing as the light consumed it.
Ethan awoke.
The void's hold splintered as Progenitor energy coursed through him—raw, ancient, alive. Cedric recoiled, his void-flesh peeling away like rotten bark.
"What are you?!" Cedric howled, clawing at his disintegrating form.
Ethan rose. His body shimmered, a fusion of light and shadow, the raven's feathers etched into his skin like scars.
"The last Duskheir," he said, grasping Cedric's blade.
The void screamed.
When the rift sealed, Ethan knelt in the ashes, the raven's blood drying on his hands. Veyra and Kiren approached, their forces battered but breathing.
"The bird?" Veyra asked, her voice uncharacteristically soft.
"Gone," Ethan said, standing. His eyes were twin voids flecked with gold.
Kiren studied him, her tattoos dim.
"And you?"
He didn't answer. The Dralei and Ashirai parted as he walked away, the monolith's power humming in his wake.
Somewhere, in the marrow of the realms, the void's whisper lingered.
Find me.