> "When gods fall, the wise do not mourn. They kneel — and learn the language of their killers."
The air reeked of burnt stone and silent prayers. The storm had passed, yet the ruins of the Celestial Vale still trembled, haunted by the echo of divine collapse.
Aaryan walked through the wasteland that had once been his home. Every step left faint trails of darkness that refused to fade. His shadow no longer followed him — it led.
He did not know how long it had been since the Eighth Sun fell. Hours? Days? Time had dissolved into gray silence, leaving only the whisper of Sha as his measure of existence.
> Feed, the voice murmured, calm and patient, like an immortal teacher guiding a stubborn child.
Aaryan looked toward the horizon. Amid the shattered peaks, faint lights flickered — campfires, survivors perhaps, remnants of a sect that no longer existed.
He tried to resist. He truly did.
But resistance meant little to hunger.
The mark over his heart throbbed once, and the world bent. Shadows stretched outward like veins, crawling across the ground in silence. They reached far beyond sight, searching, listening, tasting.
He saw through them.
Each spark of life appeared like a trembling candle in the dark. He felt their fear, their desperate faith that the heavens would save them. But the heavens were gone, and he had taken their place.
"The strong prey on the weak," Aaryan whispered. "I only… became what the world demanded."
When he opened his eyes again, he was no longer where he stood.
The shadows had carried him.
---
Miles away, deep within a ruined valley, the remnants of the Solar Peak Sect huddled around a broken formation stone. Once-proud cultivators now looked like frightened wanderers, their robes torn, their spirits dim.
The Sect Master, Elder Raeshan, leaned against a rock, bleeding and trembling. His golden flame — once radiant — now flickered pale and weak.
"We must rebuild the seal," a disciple stammered, clutching a cracked talisman. "The forbidden essence must not—"
The words died in his throat.
One by one, the torches went out.
A wind blew through the valley — cold, deliberate, carrying whispers that did not belong to mortals.
Someone whispered, "He's coming."
Then silence.
Darkness bled through the valley, swallowing the moonlight, the stars, even their spiritual senses.
A figure emerged from the mist. Barefoot, calm, eyes glowing faint violet beneath a sky that no longer knew light.
Aaryan.
Their fallen brother.
Elder Raeshan's breath caught. "Aaryan," he rasped. "You live…"
Aaryan tilted his head slightly. "Do I?" His tone was soft, distant — neither cruel nor merciful. "You told us that light is the path of truth. But the sun betrayed its children. So I sought another truth."
He stepped closer. The ground blackened beneath his feet, the sigil on his chest pulsing faintly.
"You unleashed the forbidden essence," Raeshan spat, summoning what little fire he had left. "You've doomed us all!"
Aaryan smiled faintly. "You misunderstand, Master. I did not unleash it."
His hand rose, and the air rippled.
"It chose me."
---
The next breath dissolved into chaos.
Shadows burst from the earth, slicing through disciples like blades of night. There was no blood — only stillness, as their bodies turned to ash and scattered like dust.
Raeshan roared, his golden flame blazing to life, clashing against the tide of darkness. For a moment, light returned to the valley.
But Aaryan raised a single finger, and the fire faltered.
"Light burns," Aaryan whispered. "But shadows endure."
The flame shattered.
Raeshan's eyes widened as the darkness wrapped around him. He tried to speak, but no words came — only a silent scream swallowed by the void.
When the last ember died, Aaryan stood alone among the ashes.
The Sha within purred, satisfied yet restless.
He looked down at his hands — black mist coiling around his fingers, trembling with both power and sorrow.
> This is what they made me, he thought. This is what I was meant to become.
The sigil on his chest glowed brighter, dark lines creeping up his neck like veins of ink. Above, the clouds began to spiral, forming a storm around an empty sky.
A storm without light.
Thunder rolled across the dead mountains.
Aaryan turned north — toward lands forgotten by gods, where ancient mountains still held secrets older than the suns. Somewhere beyond those ridges, a new dawn waited.
Or perhaps he would ensure that no dawn ever came again.
The ashes whispered his name one last time.
The heavens remained silent.
---