The rift's dimmed glow pulsed behind them like a half-sealed wound, a reminder of the danger Zerrei had only barely pushed back. The Spinewood Forest, once vibrant with shifting breath and ancient rhythm, now felt wrong.
Fading.
Stressed.
Fearful.
And directionless.
It no longer hummed beneath their feet. It no longer curved the path in gentle arcs to guide them. It no longer whispered warnings in rustling leaves. Instead, the air felt thin—its mana stretched taut like a frayed thread.
Zerrei sensed the change immediately.
"The forest is… quiet."
Lyra stayed close beside him, watching the shifting shadows with a soldier's precision. "Quiet how?"
Zerrei touched one of the withering ferns, watching green fade to gray at his touch—not because he harmed it, but because it no longer had strength to respond.
"It isn't breathing," he whispered. "Not like before."
Oren frowned deeply and knelt, resting his palm on the ground. "The mana is retreating. The Heartwood is withdrawing its influence. Possibly to protect its core from further strain… or because it's losing the ability to maintain balance."
Arden exhaled loudly, shaking out tension he couldn't hide. "So the most powerful forest in the continent is scared."
"Not scared," Oren corrected. "Wounded."
Arden pointed his axe at the nearest trembling trunk. "That's even worse."
Lyra continued walking. "We keep moving. The breach point will be further north. Zerrei—tell us if the rift pulse changes."
Zerrei nodded—but something else had shifted inside him.
His legs felt lighter than before. His movements more fluid, as if the Heartwood's energy still lingered in his seams. The Arcane Loop behind him rotated slowly, controlled, not flaring wildly as it once did.
Yet inside his chest—
A quiet crack still trembled.
A fissure.
A remnant of the tether's pull.
A place where the Creator's voice had tried to slip in.
He hid that part.
Not out of deception.
But because he didn't yet understand it.
Vessel Five walked to his left—closer than usual, though not possessive. More like a sentinel whose instincts sharpened with every step.
"…Zerrei… pulse stabilizing?"
Zerrei paused, then nodded weakly. "I think so."
"Think so?" Arden muttered. "That's not comforting."
Oren replied, "Better than 'no.'"
"Barely."
Lyra shot them both a look, silencing further commentary.
They continued forward, weaving between twisted trunks. The deeper they went, the more unstable the forest became. Not dangerous in the way monsters were dangerous—no claws or fangs lurked in the shadows—but dangerous in its unpredictability.
Roots rose without warning.
Branches fell from nowhere.
The ground rippled beneath their steps like shallow water disturbed by invisible tides.
Zerrei felt each disturbance as if it flickered inside him.
"It's unraveling," he whispered.
Oren nodded. "Corrupted mana influence is destabilizing the ecosystem. The Creator's presence is interfering directly with the forest's core pathways."
Arden frowned. "Meaning?"
"Meaning," Oren said grimly, "that the forest is starting to collapse."
Silence.
Heavy.
Unspoken.
Zerrei's chest tightened.
"I caused this."
Lyra stopped walking.
She turned to him. "No."
Zerrei lowered his head. "He wouldn't be here if not for me."
Lyra's voice sharpened. "He is here because he wants control. Because he wants to claim what he believes he owns. You did not invite him."
"But—"
"No." Her tone cut firmly—not harshly. "Zerrei, look at me."
He did.
She didn't blink.
She didn't waver.
"The Creator is the cause of this destruction. Not you. Not Vessel Five. Not any vessel who survived his cruelty."
Zerrei swallowed hard.
Arden nodded. "Yeah. The guy built murder puppets then got cranky when they refused to be murdered. That's on him."
"That's not exactly what happened—" Oren began—
Lyra raised a hand without turning. "Oren. Stop."
He stopped.
They resumed walking.
But Zerrei felt something growing inside him. A strange mixture of guilt, shame, and something heavier—responsibility.
Not for the Creator's actions.
But for what he needed to do now that those actions threatened everything.
"I still want to help," Zerrei said quietly.
Lyra's voice softened. "And you are."
The forest grew darker.
As they approached the northern ridge, the trees grew thinner—so thin they seemed translucent, like their mana had been hollowed out. The shadows deepened. Light bent strangely along the ground.
Arden paused. "Uhhh… is it supposed to look like reality is melting?"
Oren pushed his glasses up. "No. This is spatial interference. The Creator's breach is weakening the structural integrity of the terrain."
Zerrei's breath hitched.
Because far beyond the thinning trees—
Light poured upward in enormous spirals.
Not like the small rift before.
Not a wound.
A tear.
A colossal rupture of shimmering arcane power.
Zerrei staggered. "That's not the same breach."
Oren's face paled. "He's accelerated the process."
Lyra stepped ahead. "Zerrei, comparison—how does this differ from the first rift?"
"This one…" Zerrei pressed a trembling hand to his chest. "…he's using more force. He's breaking something larger. Not just the outer forest mana. He's cracking into something deeper."
Arden cursed. "Does that mean he's almost here?"
Zerrei shook his head. "Not physically. Not yet. But soon."
Vessel Five's claws clicked against the ground.
A low hum resonated from its core.
"…Creator… proximity… dangerous…"
"Can you sense him?" Zerrei whispered.
Vessel Five's head tilted.
"…yes…"
Zerrei's pulse faltered.
Lyra tightened her grip on her sword. "Distance?"
Vessel Five's voice trembled—not with fear, but with the strain of calculation.
"…far… but closing…"
Arden rubbed the back of his neck. "We've never fought something like a literal arcane genius scientist ghost. Is this even fightable?"
Oren frowned. "We don't fight the projection or the tether. We fight the breach."
"What does THAT mean?" Arden snapped.
Oren pointed to the horizon. "Every minute the rift widens, the Creator gets closer to manifesting. If he forces his full presence into the Spinewood—"
Arden groaned. "We get it. Apocalypse. I hate apocalypse."
Zerrei swallowed, voice thin. "Then we need to stop him before he comes through."
Lyra nodded. "Point the direction."
Zerrei lifted his trembling hand toward the ridge, where spirals of light twisted and shattered the sky.
"There."
They climbed.
The ridge was unstable—crumbled by mana surges, cracked like shattered bone. Vessel Five carried Oren when the terrain became jagged. Lyra guided Zerrei whenever the ground shifted under him. Arden nearly fell three times and blamed "hostile grass" each time.
Finally, they reached the crest.
And they saw it.
The breach.
Not a hole.
Not a door.
Not even a rift.
A corridor of light—
like a tunnel carved through reality—
leading somewhere distant, somewhere terrible, somewhere Zerrei knew instinctively was connected to him.
The Creator's lab.
Zerrei's breath broke.
Lyra steadied him immediately. "Zerrei. Stay with me."
He stared into the spiraling light.
And he saw shapes inside the corridor—
blurry, shifting—
but familiar.
Tables.
Chains.
Racks of half-sculpted frames.
Mana conduits dripping unnatural blue fluid.
The faint silhouette of a tall figure—
"No—no no—" Zerrei whispered, backing away.
Lyra grabbed him. "Zerrei. Look at me. Not at the breach."
"I can't—I can't—he's—"
A voice whispered through the corridor.
A voice Zerrei never wanted to hear again.
"Zerrei."
He collapsed to his knees.
Lyra knelt with him, gripping both of his hands.
Oren grabbed Arden, both of them anchoring the back.
Vessel Five slammed its claws into the ground, shielding Zerrei's body from the surge.
"STAY WITH US!" Lyra shouted.
Zerrei couldn't breathe.
His heart—his Heartglow—splintered under the echo of that voice.
The Creator whispered again.
"I am coming."
Zerrei screamed—not out of fear, but out of defiance.
Golden light exploded from his chest—
But the light collided with the breach, flickering wildly.
Arden roared, "TELL HIM OFF, ZERREI!"
Oren winced. "Arden, this is not helpful."
Zerrei forced breath into himself.
Forced his Heartglow to pulse.
Forced the golden-thread mark to burn.
"I am not yours!" Zerrei shouted into the shattering sky.
The breach stuttered.
Lyra knelt behind him, one arm wrapped around his shoulders. "Again!"
"I AM NOT YOUR VESSEL!"
The light flickered.
Cracked.
Shredded in fractal patterns.
Vessel Five stepped forward, roaring in unison:
"…ZERREI… NOT… YOURS…"
The breach rippled.
A shockwave tore through the ridge.
Oren threw up a shield.
Arden shielded Zerrei with his own body.
Lyra held him like anchor against storm.
Zerrei screamed one last time—
"I—AM—ZERREI!"
The breach shattered.
Light collapsed inward—
dispersing, dissolving—
leaving behind only the trembling air, the fading pulse of disrupted mana.
Zerrei slumped into Lyra's arms, shaking violently.
Arden exhaled in hollow disbelief. "We… won?"
Oren wiped sweat from his face. "We delayed him."
Vessel Five stared at the fading breach remnants.
"…Creator… still… coming…"
Zerrei lifted his head.
His Heartglow glowed faint—
but steady.
Lyra brushed a hand through his trembling hairline. "Zerrei. You're all right."
"No," he whispered, voice trembling. "But I will be."
And as the wind stirred, carrying the forest's broken breath across the ridge—
Zerrei looked toward the fading breach and whispered:
"I'm going to stop him."
Not with rage.
Not with fear.
With certainty.
For the first time, he didn't feel like a mistake.
He felt like someone worth fighting for.