The path ahead glowed faintly in the darkness, each step pulsing with the word Hope.
Lucien followed it without hesitation. Every pulse, every flicker of light reminded him of Sera. She was here—broken into pieces, scattered across the Deep Layer like shards of dawn waiting to be found.
The world trembled as he entered the next realm.
It was a field of glass and shadow, where the sky bled silver. Faint whispers circled him—soft, familiar voices calling his name.
Lucien… do you still remember me?
The air thickened. From the darkness ahead, a figure emerged—delicate, almost human. Her face glowed faintly, but her eyes were empty.
"Sera?" he whispered, stepping closer.
She tilted her head. The same voice answered—but wrong. Hollow.
You left me behind.
Lucien froze. "You're not her."
You promised to find me. And you didn't.
Her tone wavered, half-anger, half-grief.
Then her form shattered into black glass, and the pieces rose into the air, swirling around him. Each shard carried part of her voice—crying, laughing, whispering—all echoing at once.
Why didn't you save me, Lucien?You said I'd never fade.You lied.
Lucien clenched his fist around his pen-blade. "No," he said quietly. "You're not her. You're her pain."
The shards lunged toward him, slicing through the air like screams.
He moved, every swing of his blade writing new lines of light. Each strike shattered a fragment, releasing flashes of memory.
Her smile in sunlight.Her hand brushing his hair.Her voice saying his name for the first time.
Every memory that burst free hit him harder than any wound.
He fought through tears, through exhaustion, through guilt. "I remember all of you," he whispered. "Every laugh, every word. I never forgot."
The fragments slowed, hesitating—as if listening.
Lucien lowered his blade slightly. "You're not my enemy. You're her sadness trying to find shape."
The air shimmered. The shards fused together again, forming the same figure—but now her eyes softened.
You still remember…
"I always will."
Her hand reached toward his chest, glowing faintly. "Then take this," she said. "One piece of me."
Her body dissolved into light, sinking into his hand. The glow of Hope brightened, and a new word began to appear beside it—Faith.
Lucien closed his eyes. "Thank you."
He kept moving. Each step took him deeper into the labyrinth of memory.
The next fragment appeared as a child, sitting beside a broken fountain. Her hair shimmered gold—the same color as Sera's light.
"Hey," Lucien said gently, kneeling down. "Do you know where she went?"
The little girl looked up, tears in her eyes.
You promised we'd never be alone.
Lucien's breath caught.
Then why did it hurt when you forgot me?
He reached out, but her eyes turned black. The ground cracked open, and chains of ink shot upward, wrapping around him.
He struggled, but the chains tightened. The girl stood, her body flickering between innocence and rage.
You said you'd come back.
Lucien gasped, forcing his blade free. "I'm here now!"
The words glowed brighter, slicing through the chains. The air around them burned with white fire.
The child screamed, her form melting into mist. But beneath the scream, Lucien heard something else—a heartbeat.
He reached into the mist, grasping the rhythm, and pulled.
A glowing feather emerged, soft and warm. It pulsed once before merging into his chest.
Another word appeared beneath Faith.
Forgiveness.
Lucien exhaled shakily. "You never needed to forgive me," he whispered. "But thank you anyway."
He didn't rest. The third fragment waited at the heart of a shattered cathedral.
Inside, darkness pooled like blood. Statues of forgotten heroes stood frozen mid-battle, their eyes hollow.
Lucien walked slowly down the aisle. At the altar stood another figure.
Sera again—but this time, she was radiant and terrible. Wings of fire spread behind her, and her eyes burned with the same ink that once shaped the world.
You want to save me, she said softly. But can you save yourself?
Lucien's grip tightened. "If that's what it takes."
Then prove it.
She raised her hand, and the cathedral exploded into flame.
Lucien charged forward, their powers colliding—light against fire, memory against rage. Every clash sent images flickering through the air: Sera smiling, crying, dying, laughing.
Why do you fight so hard? she asked between blows. Even gods let go of love.
"Because you're not just love," he shouted. "You're everything I became because of it!"
He slashed through the flames, his blade glowing brighter than ever.
The fire cracked, revealing a small sphere of light inside her chest—Sera's last core memory.
Lucien lowered his weapon. "It's time to come home."
He reached out, gently touching the light.
The fiery wings dissolved. The figure smiled through tears.
I was never angry at you, she whispered. I was angry at being forgotten.
Lucien felt something break inside him—a dam of guilt and grief he'd carried since the moment she'd faded.
He pulled her close, holding the light as it sank into him. The world around them quieted.
When the flames died, the cathedral stood whole again.
Lucien looked down at his hand. The words there now read:
Love. Hope. Faith. Forgiveness.
Each one pulsed in harmony, forming a faint shape of wings across his palm.
He looked up at the silent sky. "I found three," he said softly. "There's one more, isn't there?"
A faint breeze stirred, carrying her voice—soft, tired, loving.
Yes. The last piece isn't mine. It's yours.
Lucien closed his eyes, a tear sliding down his cheek. "Then I'll find it too. I'll find all of us."
He lifted his pen-blade once more, pointing toward the horizon where the void shimmered like dawn breaking through paper.
The Deep Layer stirred. Stories began to rise again.
Lucien walked forward.
And somewhere, faintly, a voice whispered—
I'm waiting, Lucien.