The horizon of the Capital did not appear like the jagged iron of Blackwall or the industrial smoke of the Burning Sands. As the Academy Slip-Runner crossed the final ridge of the southern wastes, the world transformed into a sea of swaying silver-grass and blossoming white orchards. The air, once dry and sulfurous, was now filled with the sweet, intoxicating scent of jasmine and the distant, melodic peal of temple bells.
Oakhaven, the heart of the kingdom, lay nestled in a valley of eternal spring. Its white marble towers reached for the sky like frozen rays of sunlight, and its gardens were so lush they seemed to breathe in a synchronized rhythm with the earth.
"It's... beautiful," Martha whispered, her hand trembling as she touched the glass of the viewport. "I thought the stories were exaggerations, but it looks like heaven."
Kael Light didn't answer. He sat at the helm, his iridescent grey eyes narrowed. The silver-blue ring at the edge of his pupils was pulsing with a soft, warning light. He felt no "Order" here. He felt no "Void." He felt only a vast, terrifying peace.
Suddenly, the world flickered.
It wasn't a jolt of the engine or a mana-spike. It was as if the fabric of reality had been pulled taut and then released. The humming of the Slip-Runner's core faded. The metallic scent of the cabin was replaced by the smell of rain-drenched leaves and woodfire.
Kael blinked.
He was no longer in the cockpit. He was standing on the porch of a small, thatched-roof cottage. The Emerald Jungle stretched out before him, vibrant and teeming with life, but it was not the chaotic wilderness of his memories. It was serene. The sun was high and warm, and there was no "Stable Agony" in his bones. His limbs felt light, his skin was clear of scars, and his eyes did not weep.
"Kael! Stop daydreaming and help me with these herbs!"
Kael froze. The voice was like a hammer-blow to his heart. He turned slowly, his breath hitching in his throat.
Elara stood in the doorway. She wasn't a shadow or a ghost. She was vibrant, her hair tied back in a simple green ribbon, her hands stained with the juices of star-mint. She looked at him with a smile that carried no tragedy, only the simple, everyday love of a mother.
"Mother?" Kael whispered, his voice sounding young and untainted.
"Who else would it be, you silly boy?" She walked over and swatted his arm playfully. "And look at your friend. He's been waiting for you to finish your chores so you can go down to the river."
From around the corner of the cottage, a young man stepped out. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and wearing the simple linen tunic of a merchant's apprentice. He carried a fishing rod over his shoulder, and his face was bright with a grin that held no greed, no fear, and no betrayal.
It was Sam.
"Come on, Kael!" Sam laughed, throwing an arm around Kael's shoulder. "The silver-fins are jumping. If we're fast, we can be back before the sunset feast."
Kael stood paralyzed. The touch of Sam's hand felt real—the warmth of his skin, the weight of his arm. This was the life he had dreamed of during the long nights in the ruins. This was the world where the obsidian shard had never been found, where Aethelgard remained a buried myth, and where Sam Willer was his brother in truth.
"Is this... real?" Kael asked, his eyes searching Sam's.
"Of course it's real," Sam said, his expression softening into one of genuine concern. "You've been working too hard, Kael. All those stories about 'Cursed Gods' and 'Blood Weepers'... you've been letting your imagination run wild again. You're the best healer the jungle has ever seen. Why would you ever want to be a monster?"
Kael looked down at his hand. The 'Reforged Sun' was gone. In its place was a simple wooden ring he had carved for himself when he was twelve.
STAY HERE, KAEL, a voice whispered. It wasn't the God. It was a softer, kinder part of his own soul. THE AGONY WAS JUST A NIGHTMARE. THE REVENGE WAS JUST A FEVER. THIS IS THE TRUTH. YOU ARE HOME.
He took a step toward the river with Sam. The grass felt soft beneath his feet. He felt a profound sense of peace beginning to settle over him, a numbing warmth that wanted to erase the memory of the "hollow" children, the Burning Sands, and the cold grey eyes of the Inquisitors.
But then, he saw them.
In the tall grass by the riverbank, three small children were sitting in a circle. They were wearing village clothes, their faces clean and happy, but they were silent. They weren't playing. They were just... staring at the water.
Kael stopped. A sharp, needle-like prick of cold pierced through the warmth in his chest.
"Who are they, Sam?" Kael asked, pointing to the children.
Sam didn't even look. "Just some orphans from the next village over. Don't worry about them, Kael. They're happy here. Everyone is happy here."
Kael walked toward the children. As he got closer, he saw their eyes. They weren't the bright, dancing eyes of jungle children. They were absolute voids.
"The hollow ones," Kael whispered.
The "Paradise Array" of the Capital was a masterpiece of illusion. It drew from the intruder's memories to build a perfect world, but it could not comprehend the "Broken." Because the children Kael protected were no longer part of his memories—they were part of his burden—they appeared in the dream as anomalies, silent reminders of the truth he was trying to forget.
"Kael, come back!" Elara called from the porch, her voice tinged with a sudden, sharp edge. "Don't look at them. Look at me! Look at the life we have!"
Kael turned back. He saw the cottage, the sun, and the mother he loved. But as he looked, he noticed the silver-blue ring in his vision. It was the "Blessing" of Aura. It didn't belong in the jungle. It didn't belong in his past. It was a mark of the future he had chosen.
"This is a lie," Kael said. The words felt like glass shards in his throat.
YES, IT IS, the God's voice suddenly erupted, a volcanic roar that shattered the serenity of the dream. The entity had been silent, suppressed by the illusion's peace, but the sight of the children had given it a foothold. THEY ARE TRYING TO BORE US TO DEATH, KAEL! THEY ARE TRYING TO TURN THE AGONY INTO A LULLABY! BREAK THE GLASS!
"Kael, please," Sam said, his hand tightening on Kael's shoulder. His face began to flicker, the merchant apprentice's grin turning into the skeletal, cataract-clouded mask of the old man in the wheelchair. "Don't go back. The truth is cold. The truth is blood. Stay here in the light..."
"It's not light," Kael said, his voice dropping to the low, vibrating octave of the Weeper. "It's just a curtain."
Kael raised his hand. He visualized the 'Reforged Sun.' He visualized the Star-Core. He reached into the "Stable Agony" and pulled it to the surface.
THUD-CRACK.
The sound of his own rib breaking echoed like a thunderclap through the jungle. The beautiful sky of the Paradise Array fractured. The silver-grass turned to grey ash. Elara's face didn't rot; it simply dissolved into a cloud of white petals.
"I am a healer," Kael roared, his iridescent eyes blazing through the dream. "And I have patients to save!"
"The Blessing of the Piercing Truth!"
A shockwave of iridescent grey and silver-blue energy erupted from Kael's chest. He didn't attack the illusion with fire; he attacked it with reality. He forced the "Order" of the Capital to acknowledge the "Agony" of the world outside its walls.
The jungle vanished. The cottage vanished. Sam's voice turned into a lingering, pathetic whimper.
Kael gasped, his lungs suddenly burning as the oxygen-starved air of the Slip-Runner rushed back into his chest. He was slumped over the mana-throttle, his forehead pressed against the glass. The vehicle was sitting in a field of beautiful, white flowers, but the "Paradise Array" pillars—massive ivory needles hidden among the trees—were now glowing a dark, angry purple.
"Kael!" Martha cried, clutching his arm. She was shaking, her own eyes red from the dream she had just escaped. "We... we were in the village. My father was there... he was alive..."
"It was a trap," Kael wheezed, his iridescent eyes weeping a thick stream of gold-violet blood. The "Stable Agony" was back with a vengeance, his bones breaking in a rapid-fire sequence as his body compensated for the psychological shock.
He looked at the dashboard. They were inside the Capital's outer gates. The "Paradise Array" was the first line of defense. By breaking it, he had alerted every Inquisitor and Guard in the city.
The sky above the Capital, which had been a perfect, cloudless blue, suddenly turned a dark, bruised violet as the city's true defensive shields activated.
"They're coming," Kael said, his hand gripping the throttle.
From the white marble towers, dozens of "Cloud-Riders"—sleek, anti-gravity platforms manned by the Royal Guard—were descending toward their location. And behind them, a massive, golden chariot pulled by six spectral horses was moving through the air.
Atop the chariot stood High Overseer Alaric. He wasn't wearing his battle-robes. He was wearing the "Ceremonial Plate of the Founder," and in his hand was the "Scepter of the Prime Cradle."
"You chose the blood, Kael Light," Alaric's voice boomed across the valley, amplified by the city's resonant architecture. "You were offered the paradise you deserved, and you spat on it. Now, you will face the weight of the Kingdom's justice."
Kael looked at the three "hollow" children. They were awake now, their void-eyes fixed on the golden chariot. They weren't afraid. They were hungry. The resonance of the Prime Cradle, located directly beneath the city, was calling to the void in their bones.
"Pip, take the children and move toward the catacombs," Kael commanded. "The Prime Cradle is beneath the Great Spire. I'll hold them off here."
"Kael, there are hundreds of them!" Martha cried.
Kael stood up and stepped out of the Slip-Runner. He stood in the field of white flowers, his tattered grey cloak billowing in the mana-wind. The iridescent light of his eyes and the silver-blue ring of Aura's blessing created a halo of light that challenged the city's own brilliance.
"I am the Blood Weeper," Kael said, his voice echoing against the marble towers. "And I have come to wake the dreamers."
The first wave of Cloud-Riders opened fire, mana-bolts raining down like a storm of blue glass. Kael raised his hand, the 'Reforged Sun' exploding into a pillar of starlight.