Chapter 28
The Vault of Drowning Stars trembled as if the heavens themselves were holding their breath.
The Drowned Star had awakened.
He hovered in the heart of the shattered tower — a titan made not of flesh, but of cosmic current. His body rotated like a living galaxy, arms like trailing spiral arms of starlight, eyes glowing with collapsing supernovae.
Every movement bent space.
Every breath twisted reality.
"Flameborn…" the god hissed, his voice like a collapsing star, "you are the ember that refused to die. Come, let me teach you the gravity of rebellion."
Nezutsu took a single step forward — the golden fire still glowing faintly beneath his skin, flickering along his breath.
"I don't want to fight you," he said, chest heaving. "But I will not be consumed."
"Consumed?" the Drowned Star laughed. "I am not devouring you, child. I am reclaiming what was once divine."
Velgrim shoved Kaelith behind him, swordless now but undeterred. "That thing will bend the laws of existence around us. We have seconds—maybe less."
"So what's the plan?" Kaelith demanded.
"The plan," Nezutsu said, "is escape. Not through space — through time."
He closed his eyes. Within his mind, the gift of the god from the last chamber — the one whose name had been erased — began to pulse.
The coordinates of a memory. A time fracture buried in the world's roots.
A place called:
"Aethrakar — The First Flame's Cradle."
But reaching it required more than magic.
It required breaking through fate.
The Collapse
The Drowned Star opened his mouth — and a ray of black gravity shot forth.
Velgrim shouted, diving left.
Kaelith screamed as the ray passed through her arm — time warped around her skin, aging it instantly, then reversing it back.
"It's unraveling time!" she cried.
Nezutsu stepped in front, flame bursting from his palms. But it wasn't enough.
The Drowned Star raised a second arm.
"I was the first to fall because I knew too much. Now I shall rise again by taking what was denied: the Flame That Bends Will."
Velgrim grabbed a broken shard of glass and hurled it at the god's core. Useless — it disintegrated mid-air.
But it bought them a heartbeat.
"NEZUTSU! NOW!"
The boy screamed — not from fear, but from choice.
He reached into the light within him.
Gold and violet swirled into a strange third fire — one that bent not mana, but possibility.
He spoke a word:
"Luth'aelor!"
The Vault exploded.
The Time Rift
When the light faded, they stood no longer in the Vault.
Instead, they were falling.
Not through air — but through time.
Images blurred past them: wars, gods dancing across the skies, continents birthing and dying, mages shattering mountains with thoughts, oceans screaming.
Then — stillness.
A field of ash. No stars above. Only a roaring pit of fire in the center of the world.
"Where… are we?" Kaelith whispered.
Velgrim swallowed hard. "This is no illusion."
"Welcome," said Nezutsu, "to Aethrakar. The place where I was born… or maybe where I died."
Before them stood a great pyre — taller than cities, wider than valleys. And in the flame… shapes writhed.
Not people. Not gods.
Ideas.
Concepts made flesh.
A Voice in the Flame
As they approached, the flames parted — and a voice called from within.
"So… the echo returns."
A being stepped forward.
He looked identical to Nezutsu.
Same face. Same hair. Same eyes. But burning with power. Radiating authority. His presence pushed the others to their knees.
Kaelith gritted her teeth. "Who… is he?"
"He's me," Nezutsu said. "Or… who I would have become if I hadn't been sealed."
The figure spoke:
"I am Neh'zurel, the Flameborn who chose to burn the gods. The self you locked away. I have waited for you."
"Why?"
"To finish what we started. You escaped your destiny, Nezutsu. I want to give it back."
Velgrim drew breath. "This is a reflection born from his soul. The part that still remembers… the war."
Kaelith stood. "Why show yourself now?"
Neh'zurel grinned.
"Because the Drowned Star is not your only enemy. The gods who fell… are rising. And one walks among you already — cloaked, bound, and unaware."
They all looked at each other.
"Who?" Nezutsu demanded.
"That," said Neh'zurel, "is the game. And I don't play without stakes."
He raised a hand, and a blade formed from pure fire.
"Defeat me — and I'll show you what the gods fear most. But fail…"
The flames around them roared.
"And you'll burn with your forgotten self."
Cliffhanger
The two Nezutsus stood facing each other.
Identical.
Except one was made of hope.
The other… of fury.
And the battle for the soul had begun.
[TO BE CONTINUED…]