The air was thick with dust and silence.
Kael lay on the ground, trembling, his body cold and soaked with sweat. The world felt unreal, like a dream he couldn't wake from. The last thing he remembered clearly was the voice—deep, ancient, and final.
He was mine now.
The words echoed through the hollows of his mind like a curse. Every breath he took felt heavier, as if the very act of being alive demanded more than he had left to give. He stared at his own trembling fingers, half expecting to see them disintegrate into ash or light.
But they were still there.
Scarred, bloodied, cracked—but his.
His chest ached. Not from the sickness. Not entirely. There was something else now. Something deeper. Something that had curled into the marrow of his bones and whispered promises in a voice that didn't belong to this world.
Kael struggled to sit up. Pain surged through his limbs like fire, and he nearly blacked out. The pedestal behind him was shattered, its fragments pulsing faintly before dimming like dying embers. Whatever had been sealed there for gods-knew how long was now a part of him.
He should have run.
He should have listened to that voice—his mother's voice, or the echo of it in his mind—that warned him to turn away.
But it was too late for that now.
Outside the broken room, the Spire moaned with its usual haunting winds. Somewhere far above, the upper floors thrummed with artificial light and luxury. Down here, everything stank of rust and rot. The contrast made him sick.
Kael braced himself against the wall and rose slowly, every joint screaming in protest. The dizziness was almost unbearable, but he grit his teeth and forced his legs to move. His body felt different. Wrong. Lighter and heavier at the same time, as if gravity couldn't decide how to treat him anymore.
He limped down the corridor, his breath ragged. The pain was familiar, but the sensation beneath it—the strange buzz in his veins, the low hum at the base of his skull—wasn't. He could still feel the presence of the Echo, dormant but watching.
Not gone.
Just quiet.
When he emerged into the dim street of the lower floors, the artificial lights flickered overhead. The corridor stretched endlessly, dotted with makeshift homes made of scrap metal and fabric, and the occasional scavenger who looked up at him with suspicion, then looked away.
No one asked where he'd been.
No one cared.
But something was different now. He could feel it in their eyes. Not recognition. Wariness.
As if they sensed something about him had shifted.
He staggered into a hidden alcove behind a crumbled stairwell, the spot where he usually slept when the cold wasn't biting too hard. He collapsed onto the floor, letting his body rest against the wall. His breathing slowed, but his mind raced.
The Echo had spoken to him. Not just with words. With power. With intention.
Ruin.
What kind of god had a name like that? Not one of salvation or hope. Not one who healed or guided. No, this was the kind of entity you locked away when you were afraid of what it would do to the world. Or to you.
Kael curled in on himself, shivering despite the warmth pooling in his chest. He didn't feel stronger. He didn't feel divine. He felt… hollow. As if something vital had been scraped out of him to make room for something else.
Sleep didn't come easily. When it did, it was filled with visions.
He dreamed of fire swallowing the Spire from the bottom up, turning each floor into black ash. Of shadows screaming in languages he didn't understand. Of a massive, eyeless being standing at the edge of reality, watching him like a parent watches a disobedient child.
And then he saw his mother. Her face, soft and sad.
You must climb.
Her voice wasn't angry. It wasn't accusing. Just tired.
He awoke to the sound of footsteps. Heavy. Deliberate.
He didn't move, pretending to still be asleep as the footsteps paused nearby. He heard low murmuring—two voices.
"This is where the readings spiked?"
"Yeah. Echo-level surges. High-tier, maybe even God-fragment class. But it's impossible. Nothing exists down here but trash."
"Then why did our tech pick it up?"
A pause. The sound of something being tapped, maybe a scanner.
"Still hot. Whatever it was, it was recent."
Kael held his breath. The faint buzz he'd felt earlier surged quietly inside his chest, like something waking up at the scent of danger.
Don't move.
He didn't know if it was his own thought or the Echo's. But he obeyed.
"Pull back. If it's an Echo spike, someone will come looking. We report this to the upper floors. Let the Ascendants handle it."
Their footsteps receded. Kael opened his eyes slowly, his heart still racing. The mention of Ascendants made his stomach twist.
They were the worst of the Echoborn—the elite enforcers who'd climbed to the highest levels of the Spire, collecting Echoes like trophies. No one crossed them and lived.
If they found out what he'd touched…
He pulled his knees to his chest, eyes wide in the dark.
He needed to move. Now.
He packed what little he had—a flask of stale water, half a protein bar, and a rusted knife that had once belonged to his father. Then he slipped out of the alcove, keeping low, moving through the maze of pipes and shadows that had once been his home.
The lower floors were a labyrinth of broken structures and forgotten lives. He knew them well. But now, every wall felt like it was watching him. Every creak was an enemy.
The Echo stirred again.
You are not ready.
Kael flinched, stumbling slightly. The voice was quieter now. Less commanding. But still ancient. Still knowing.
What do you mean?
There was a pause.
You awakened me without a pact. You are incomplete. A vessel, but unsealed.
Kael frowned.
What do I have to do?
He felt a flicker of amusement. Or maybe something close to it.
You must climb. Or you will be devoured.
Kael stopped walking.
Climb?
The voice didn't answer again, but he felt the intent behind it. The Spire wasn't just a prison. It was a crucible. A test. And if he stayed down here, whatever was inside him—whatever Ruin truly was—would consume him before the sickness ever could.
He gritted his teeth and looked up. The sky was still shattered, the stars faint and dying. But above, there were levels he had never dared to imagine. Levels where light still shone. Where Echoes were studied and worshipped. Where the truth might finally be revealed.
He didn't want salvation anymore.
He wanted answers.
He wanted control.
Kael turned toward the nearest elevator shaft, long abandoned and wrapped in chains. He pulled his coat tighter and started walking, his body aching, his mind racing.
He would climb.
Not because of a prophecy. Not because of revenge.
But because something inside him was changing.
And if he didn't move first, it would move for him.