The sun had barely risen, but the city of Everlock was already stirring.
Carts lined the lower gates. Smiths handed out freshly forged blades. Rations were distributed from barrels marked with the crest of Everlock's rising phoenix. People whispered as they passed, stealing glances at the ones who were leaving again so soon, especially at Jalen.
He didn't wear anything flashy. Just his coat, boots, and the same tired look he always carried before a journey. But the people still stared like he might lift into the sky at any moment.
Behind him, the rest of the group gathered. Kullen adjusted the straps on his chestplate, speaking quietly with Kuromi. Nathan leaned against a stone column, scribbling in a book about time anomalies he'd noticed since Kieros' fall. Lucio tried to act normal, but everyone could tell he hadn't eaten again.
Rhea hugged Ember tight, whispering something about keeping him warm. Vexa stood quietly beside Jalen, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable.
She looked up at the walls of Everlock one more time.
"Still not used to this place," she muttered.
Jalen glanced over. "Give it a year."
"I'll give it a week."
He smirked. "That long?"
She didn't answer—but her faint smile was enough.
Kullen called out. "We move in ten."
The group turned to the gate.
And without another word, they left home behind again.
The road that led away from Everlock wound through rolling hills and old farmland. At first, the skies were clear and the air was kind. Birds sang in the trees. Children ran out from nearby villages to wave at the group as they passed, shouting Jalen's name and calling Nathan "Time Guy" with reckless affection. Even Lucio managed to smile at that.
For a while, it almost felt normal.
But the further south they marched, the quieter things became.
The grass thinned. The soil grew dry and red, like it had been scorched from beneath. By the third day, the roads were little more than cracked stone trails, and the trees no longer reached toward the sun—they curled in on themselves like withered bones.
At night, they set up camp along the high ridges that overlooked a stretch of land now called the Hollow Road.
A place no one remembered building.
A place that didn't exist on any official map.
They didn't speak of it much. But they all felt it.
That something was watching.
—
That evening, Jalen sat on a rock near the edge of their campfire. Sparks danced upward into the starless sky. His boots were dusty. His coat was draped beside him, and his hands were still glowing faintly with warmth from helping the medics.
He didn't say much. He never did at night.
Vexa sat across from him, sharpening a blade that didn't really need sharpening.
"You've changed," she said suddenly.
Jalen blinked. "That a good thing or a bad one?"
"Just a thing."
They both stared into the fire for a while.
"You don't talk about what it felt like," she said. "Becoming a god."
Jalen's jaw tensed.
"I don't want to feel like one," he muttered. "It's hard to be worshipped when you still wake up tired."
Vexa didn't press. She just nodded.
Not far from them, Lucio sat hunched over a log, sweat glistening at his brow despite the cool air. Kuromi approached with a flask of water and a raised brow.
"You've barely touched your rations," she said.
Lucio gave a half-hearted shrug. "Not really hungry."
"Lucio."
He looked up, surprised by the sternness in her voice.
"You're sweating. You're pale. And you haven't slept in two nights."
He tried to joke. "I'm just trying to catch up to you."
But Kuromi didn't laugh.
She knelt down, hand lightly brushing his forehead—and pulled it back sharply.
"You're burning up."
Lucio blinked, then chuckled softly. "It's just a little fever."
Kuromi studied him for a long moment, her gaze lingering not on his face—but on the faint red glow that now pulsed behind his eyes when he blinked.
"…You didn't tell anyone, did you?"
Lucio looked away. "Didn't want to worry them."
Kuromi sat beside him, quiet. Her voice, when it came, was softer.
"Whatever's happening to you, don't lie to me about it. I'm not going to let you break while trying to pretend you're okay."
Lucio didn't respond.
But he didn't argue either.
—
Back at the fire, Nathan leaned over the crude map they'd redrawn using the stranger's markings.
"This region shouldn't exist," he muttered.
Jalen glanced up. "You mean it's uncharted?"
"No," Nathan said. "I mean it shouldn't exist at all."
He tapped the edge of the map.
"This trail we're following? It cuts through three tectonic faults, a collapsed valley, and a ruined kingdom no one remembers. It's like someone built a road through the dead just to get to the bottom."
Vexa stood, walking over. "And what's at the bottom?"
Nathan didn't look up. "We're about to find out."
The landscape beyond the gate was silent.
Not the kind of silence born from peace—but the kind born from endings.
The air was thick, heavy like a breath that never finished. The earth beneath their feet was scorched black, veins of glowing red pulsing just below the surface like the world was alive and bleeding. Distant towers leaned like tombstones in a battlefield no one remembered.
As the group crossed into this domain, even their footsteps seemed reluctant.
"Feels like the air's watching us," Lucio muttered, hand on his weapon.
"No," Nathan corrected softly, "it's listening."
Suddenly, a figure stepped out from the shadows ahead.
Slim, tall, and shirtless beneath a dark half-cloak that fluttered in the breeze. His body was marred with deep scars—faint but still raw, one crossing his chest in a diagonal slash, another marring his side, both clean and fatal. His left arm bore a burn mark that trailed to his wrist.
And his face…
Older now.
The roundness of boyhood gone. His jaw had sharpened, his eyes hollowed slightly—not in weariness, but in knowledge. His hair had grown out, tied messily behind his neck. Yet in his gaze… there was something unmistakably familiar.
Rhea stopped walking.
She didn't blink. Didn't breathe.
Jalen did. Once. Then nothing.
"…Stix?" Rhea's voice cracked.
Kuromi glanced at her. "Who?"
The figure smiled.
It wasn't cruel. It wasn't kind. It was… real.
"I was wondering if you'd recognize me," he said softly. His voice was deeper, but still had the cadence of the boy they'd once known.
Vexa stepped forward cautiously, one hand hovering near her blade. "Who is he?"
Nathan's voice was low. Hollow. "He was family."
Jalen stared, unmoving. "He died… in my arms."
Stix's eyes met Jalen's.
And Jalen stepped forward, slowly. Measured. Like approaching a ghost that might vanish if you moved too quickly.
"You're not supposed to be here," Jalen said, barely above a whisper.
Stix nodded. "Neither are you."
His gaze shifted to the others—Rhea, who still hadn't moved, hadn't breathed. Nathan, tense but calm. Lucio, fists clenched. Then to Kullen, Kuromi, and Vexa, who all looked between their comrades, clearly out of place in this memory.
"You don't know me," Stix said to them. "But I know you. I've watched all of you. From beyond the veil. From the gates. From the chains."
He raised his scarred arm, fingers curling.
"And now, I'm your warning."
Vexa narrowed her eyes. "Warning of what?"
"Of what Zeraphon does to souls that don't bow."
Stix stepped aside.
Behind him, the ash parted—and the land beyond was littered with silhouettes.
Not bodies.
Shadows.
People made of memory and smoke, faces barely visible, all standing motionless… all watching.
"I'm one of the lucky ones," he said quietly. "I kept my name."
Jalen's jaw tensed.
"Stix…"
Rhea finally moved. She stepped forward and embraced him—carefully, like she might break him. He didn't pull away.
"I thought you were gone," she whispered.
"I was," he said.
Then to them all:
"But this place doesn't believe in endings."
Stix pulled away from Rhea gently, the moment brief—but the ache in her eyes lingered like smoke. She wiped her face quickly and stepped back beside Jalen, her shoulders stiff, her hand clenched at her side.
"Come," Stix said, turning without waiting. "There's more you need to see."
They followed.
None of them spoke.
The air grew colder with each step, the sky darker—not from night, but from something heavier. Like the world itself was exhaling its last breath and hadn't drawn another in centuries. Every building they passed was hollow. Every monument cracked. Bones lined the base of fountains long dried of water, filled only with ash.
"Is this all part of Zeraphon's domain?" Kullen asked, keeping his voice even, curious but cautious.
"Yes," Stix answered without turning. "This was once a surface city. Long ago. Before he took it. Now it's the threshold. A place between life, death… and forgetting."
Kuromi scanned their surroundings, blade still in hand. "Why bring us here? Why not attack?"
"Because he doesn't fear you," Stix replied calmly. "Zeraphon is beyond fear. Beyond rage. His is a kingdom built on inevitability."
Lucio, still pale from the earlier fever, kept his distance. "That's not creepy at all."
Vexa looked at Jalen, then back at Stix. "You said you remembered who you were, that you're lucky. What happens to the others?"
Stix slowed.
Then stopped.
And pointed ahead.
They came to a wide square—once a garden, now barren. And in its center: a massive obsidian pillar, cracked with red light. Chains extended from it in every direction, vanishing into the ground and buildings, threading through shadows and stone.
Each chain was linked to a person.
A soul.
Some knelt. Others floated in place. Most did not move.
Their faces were blurred, like smudged paintings. Their eyes were hollow. Their mouths were sewn shut with threads of light.
"He binds their names," Stix said softly. "Without a name, you lose who you are. Your face. Your thoughts. Even your pain becomes someone else's. Until you're just… a presence."
Jalen stepped forward, fists trembling. "How long have they been like this?"
"Some? A week. Others? Centuries. Maybe more." Stix turned to him slowly. "But the worst part is… they don't even know they're trapped."
Nathan exhaled slowly, calculating the horror in silence. "And Zeraphon controls this?"
Stix nodded. "He's the Keeper. The Archivist of Every Unrested Soul. He doesn't just watch the dead—he catalogs them. He breaks them. And then files what's left."
"And you?" Jalen asked. "Why are you still whole?"
Stix met his gaze. "Because I remembered you."
The words cut through the cold like a knife.
Rhea's eyes welled again.
Stix continued, voice quieter now, as they neared a tunnel at the far end of the plaza.
"You're not here just to fight a god," he said. "You're here to survive memory. To protect who you are."
He stopped at the edge of the descending path.
"And if you fail… he will not kill you."
The chains near him rattled faintly.
"He'll erase you."
Silence settled.
No one dared break it.
Finally, Jalen stepped forward, standing beside Stix, his voice low. "Then I guess we better win."
Stix gave a faint, tired smile.
"I hope so."
And they descended into the deeper dark.