The shadows spat them out inside the husk of a crumbled chapel at the edge of the dead city.
Zenith staggered forward and dropped to his knees, breath catching in his throat. The crystal floated calmly behind him, its motion lazy — unbothered by his fatigue. The last traces of dark energy around him faded like mist at dawn.
Ires collapsed beside him, sweat glistening on her forehead. Her sword clattered to the ground. The silence between them stretched, thick with unanswered questions.
She was the first to break it. "What the hell just happened back there?"
Zenith didn't answer immediately. His eyes were fixed on his trembling hands. He could still feel it — the power, the rage, the voice.
"I don't know," he finally whispered. "Something inside me… broke open. Or woke up."
"No," Ires said firmly, "something outside you found a way in." She turned her gaze to the hovering crystal. "That thing — what is it?"
Before Zenith could answer, the temperature dropped again. A stillness pressed against their chests, and then—
"Ask it yourself, warrior."
The voice didn't echo from the walls. It reverberated inside their minds. Cold. Measured. Ancient.
Zenith's eyes snapped to the crystal. It had begun to pulse slowly again — not with light, but with waves of pressure, like ripples on black water.
Ires stood quickly, reaching for her sword.
"Put it down, child. I am no beast. If I wanted you dead… you wouldn't have drawn breath back in Craymoor."
Zenith stood shakily, facing the crystal. "You're Chaos. The god locked away before creation."
"The truth buried by the god of light. The one your world forgot. But you… you called to me, even if you didn't mean to."
"Why me?"
"Because you broke."
"Because you lost."
"Because in your hollow pain… there was space for me to speak."
Zenith clenched his fists.
"You're not chosen, Zenith. You're convenient. I do not give gifts — I give chances. Survive. Find the rest. Or fall like the rest of your kind."
Ires stepped forward. "The rest? There are more of these crystals?"
"Seven shards," Chaos said, "each holding a piece of what I was before I was devoured. You have one. Six remain scattered across this prison world."
Zenith looked up. "And if I find them all?"
"Then we tear down the walls between your false Earth… and the real one."
Silence. Ires looked at Zenith, her voice low. "And what happens to this world if you do?"
"It ends."
Zenith's breath caught in his throat. Ires went pale.
Chaos continued, without emotion.
"This world was not made to last. It is a copy. A cage. Every day, the World Eaters feast. The only way to stop them… is to collapse the lie and return to the truth."
Zenith turned to Ires. "I saw my sister get eaten. I watched my home burn. If this world's doomed, why fight for it?"
"Because we're still here," Ires replied, voice steady. "And until it ends — we fight. I don't care if this world is fake. The blood is real. The pain is real. And so is the choice."
Zenith looked down at the crystal.
"Then make your choice, Voice." Chaos whispered. "Survive… or vanish like the rest."
The chapel crumbled behind them as Zenith and Ires walked the shattered road back toward the foothills — toward the remnants of humanity.
Nestled between jagged rocks and collapsed buildings was a makeshift camp of tents and broken stone. The flickering lights of burning oil and solar shards barely held the darkness at bay. Dozens of displaced people gathered here — some wounded, others hollow-eyed and numb.
They had no kingdom. No banners. Only survival.
Zenith and Ires passed through the narrow opening between upturned crates, greeted by stares and whispers. A few recognized them. Fewer dared speak.
The black crystal still hovered quietly over Zenith's shoulder like a shadow with a pulse. Its presence didn't emit light, but it drew eyes. Like gravity around a dying star.
"Zenith," Ires whispered under her breath, "keep your head down."
"I'm trying," he muttered. "It won't go away."
The leader of the camp stood waiting near the center fire — a tall, grizzled man with half his face covered in scars and an arm made of scrap metal and reinforced bone. Captain Dorn.
"You've got nerve," Dorn growled, stepping forward as they approached. "Leaving the camp without clearance."
"We had to—" Ires started, but he raised a hand.
"Ires, I expect this from him," Dorn said, nodding at Zenith, "but not from you. You're smarter than this."
Ires opened her mouth, but Dorn's gaze shifted. He saw the crystal.
"What… in the Void is that?" he demanded, voice sharp. Around them, heads turned. Whispers rose.
Zenith froze. His mouth opened, but no words came.
"I-It's… something we found," Ires interrupted quickly. "Some kind of ancient tech… from the ruins. Not dangerous." She forced a shrug. "Just floats. Weird, huh?"
Dorn didn't look convinced.
"Doesn't feel like tech. Feels like something's watching me through it."
Zenith looked down, jaw tight.
Dorn stared a few seconds longer before grunting. "Keep it hidden. Whatever it is, it gives people the creeps. And people who are scared do stupid things."
He turned, storming off toward the other end of the camp, barking orders to guards as he went.
Ires exhaled slowly, pulling Zenith aside behind a torn tent flap.
"You okay?"
Zenith shook his head. "I… I can't lie. I just freeze up."
"That's why I did it for you," she said softly. "But this thing — it's drawing attention, Zenith. People will notice. They'll ask questions. And questions will get us killed."
The crystal hummed softly, circling once behind Zenith's head like a vulture.
"We need to do something about it," Ires added. "Hide it. Mask it. Control it. Before someone tries to take it from you — or worse."
Zenith looked down at his hand. The shadow still lingered faintly beneath his skin.
"I don't think I control it," he whispered.
Ires placed a hand on his shoulder. "Then we'll learn. Together."
From across the camp, the wind carried a scream — short, sharp, then silenced.
Both turned sharply.
No one moved.
The darkness stirred again.