The group stepped into the room, their boots crunching against the crystalline ground. Fragments of fractured lay scattered across the chamber, their once-glimmering forms now dim and broken.

In the center of the room, sprawled amidst the wreckage, was a figure. It didn't quite resemble the fractured they had seen before. Its form was sturdier, more defined, yet still marked by crystalline growths. Its lifeless body radiated a faint, haunting light that seemed to flicker with the remnants of what it once was.

Kale's eyes were drawn to the walls. In the mirrored surfaces, flickering visions began to take shape. The reflections showed Carrion Voss, his towering form cutting through the fractured with brutal precision. Each battle ended the same way: Voss standing victorious, the fractured lying in defeat. The scenes shifted and blurred, the echoes of violence repeating endlessly in a chilling dance of inevitability.

"What… is this?" Rika murmured.

Before anyone could answer, the body in the center of the room stirred—not physically, but in the reflections. In the fractured surfaces, the figure appeared, standing tall and whole.

"I have been waiting for you."

"Who are you?" Kale asked.

The figure in the reflections inclined its head slightly. "I was, or perhaps I am, Zairos, a general of your bladeweaver order. I believe you were looking for me, though you would never have found me."

Kale frowned. "What do you mean?"

Zairos's image shifted, as if caught between timelines. "There are infinite paths, young bladeweaver. Some stretch endlessly apart, while others converge like rivers meeting the sea. And yet, some outcomes are inevitable. It was always inevitable that Voss would come here, and that I would fall."

Rika crossed her arms. "So, what? You're saying you knew this would happen and just let it?"

"Let it?" Zairos sounded almost amused. "No, child of echoes. My choices led me here, just as yours led you. But even in a world of infinite possibilities, there are threads that cannot be severed. Voss's coming… my death… they were as certain as the sunrise."

Kale shook his head. "Why did he come here? What could he possibly want from this place?"

Zairos's expression darkened in the reflections, his voice carrying a weight of resigned understanding. "His reasons were twofold. The first was to kill me. To cut off the head leaves the body without direction, and I, in my own way, was a guiding hand to the fractured and the bladeweavers."

"And the second?" Liliana asked.

"He sought my blade. Finality. A weapon forged from the shards of Yr's sword. He believed it would allow him to achieve his goals."

"Would it?" Kale asked.

"Yes," Zairos answered.

"Did he get it?"

Zairos smiled, faint and enigmatic. "No. Finality was not for him to wield. It has returned to the shards. Returned to Yr. It cannot be taken, only given. And it will not be given again."

"So, what now? Voss killed you, but he didn't get what he wanted. Does that mean we're safe?"

Zairos's reflection flickered, his gaze piercing. "Didn't he?"

He leaned forward. "Safety is an illusion, young bladeweaver. He was chosen, set upon a path not by desire, but by design. Just like you, Voss has a greater purpose. He has not completed what was set in motion. Not yet. And you… you walk a path that will intersect with his again. Prepare yourself, for the shards sing not of peace, but of war."

The image began to fade, the fractured surfaces losing their clarity.

"Wait!" Kale called out. "Why me? Why us?"

But Zairos was gone, leaving only silence in the chamber. The echoes seemed to settle, the room's eerie stillness returning as the group exchanged uneasy glances.

Then, the mirrored walls filled with a single, overwhelming image: Carrion Voss. His immense form loomed as though he were standing just inches away. The hollow darkness of his eyes seemed to bore directly into Kale's soul, and the overwhelming presence of him pushed into the group like a physical force.

In the reflections, Voss seemed to move, his hand reaching out, and for a moment, it looked as though he might actually grasp Kale's shoulder. Kale stumbled back, heart pounding, as Voss's voice filled the chamber.

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"Kale," Voss said, his tone deep. "If you continue on this path, you will die."

The statement hung heavy in the air, the certainty in Voss's voice cutting through any thoughts of resistance. The others froze, their weapons half-raised, their expressions shocked.

"You are her puppet," Voss continued, his gaze piercing and unblinking. "Aeloria is weaving you into her web, just like she's done a hundred times before. She betrays. She discards. It is her nature."

Kale's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

"When you grow too strong," Voss said, "when she realizes she cannot control you, she will end you. She will not risk anyone threatening her power."

"What about Rothgar?" Kale asked, "He's strong. He's still alive."

Voss shook his head. "She bore Rothgar a daughter. The ultimate leash."

"You think you are her champion? Her chosen? You are a means to an end. The only reason you yet draw breath is because she believes you pliable—easily led, slow to question, and too blind to see the cage she's built around you."

Kale stepped forward, his chest heaving as he forced himself to speak. "You don't know anything about me."

Voss's laugh was cold, humorless. "I know more about you than you know about yourself. Who do you think gave your grandfather Aeloria's Promise? You think Aeloria gave up her sword willingly?"

With that, the reflections wavered, the images of Voss fracturing like glass struck by a hammer. Shards of his image splintered and fell away, leaving behind only the distorted, shimmering walls and the echo of his final words.

Kale froze. Gave him the sword? Did Voss know his grandfather? Had they fought together, or against each other? And if Voss was telling the truth… why would he hand over Aeloria's Promise? Was it part of some plan? A test? A lie?

Or was this just another move to get in his head, twist his thoughts, make him doubt everything?

No. Don't let him in.

But the question still echoed: What if he wasn't lying?

"He's trying to shake you. Don't let him," Liliana said.

Kale exhaled sharply. "I'm not shaken," he said, though the slight quaver in his voice betrayed him. He turned toward the others, forcing himself to push Voss's words aside. "Let's move. We are done here."

***

As they emerged from the chasms, Xandria sprawled around them, its enormous crystalline shards refracting the midday sunlight into fractured rainbows across the streets. Kale shielded his eyes for a moment, adjusting to the brightness after the disorienting glow of the chasms.

The group stood in silence, each of them visibly worn from their descent into the eerie depths. For a moment, Kale simply took them in: Namara leaning casually against Sadek's side, as if to annoy him, Liliana inspecting her coat, and Rika tightening the strap of her eyepatch.

Kale exhaled deeply, squaring his shoulders. "Alright, we need to get organized."

"Organized?" Rika asked.

"Yes," Kale said firmly. "We've been playing catch-up this entire time—reacting to everything, letting the situation control us. That has to stop. We need to start thinking ahead, making actual plans. First off, Rika and I are going back to the temple."

Rika tilted her head, narrowing her eye. "Why? Haven't we had enough cryptic mumbo-jumbo for one day?"

Kale shook his head. "There's too much we still don't understand. Ikareia might be our best shot at getting real answers about Voss and why he's here. Plus…" He hesitated, glancing at her eyepatch. "We need to figure out your eye. Right now, it's more of a liability than an asset. If Ikareia gave it to you, she must know how to help you use it properly."

Rika grimaced but nodded reluctantly. "Fine. If it stops me from seeing a hundred different versions of everything every time I take this thing off, I'm in."

"Good," Kale said, turning to the others. "Namara, Sadek. You two find us an inn. We've been through enough, and we all need proper beds tonight."

Namara's grin widened as she pushed off Sadek's shoulder. "Finally, someone with a decent idea. You know, Kale, I'm starting to think there's a real leader somewhere under all that brooding and self-doubt."

Kale smiled faintly. "Thanks, Namara. Your approval means the world to me."

"Of course it does," she said with a wink. "But don't think you're off the hook. I'll still be judging your leadership skills when you get us an actual plan."

Sadek crossed his arms. "We'll find a place. Any preferences?"

"Just somewhere safe and not a total dump," Kale replied. "We'll meet back at the temple at sundown."

Liliana, who had been silent until now, suddenly spoke up. "Sounds like a solid plan, but I have something I need to take care of first."

Kale turned to her, his brow furrowing. "What is it?"

She hesitated, her gaze flicking to the distant horizon before settling on him. "It's personal. Won't take long."

Kale studied her for a moment, sensing there was more she wasn't saying. Still, he nodded. "Alright. Just don't be late."

Liliana gave him a smile, though her eyes remained distant. "Don't worry. I'll be there."

Namara stretched dramatically, slinging an arm around Sadek's shoulder again. "Come on, big guy. Let's go find the perfect inn. Something with charm, maybe a little haunted. Oh, and a bar. Definitely a bar."

Sadek sighed but let her drag him toward the bustling streets of Xandria. "We're finding an inn, not going on a sightseeing tour."

"Who says it can't be both?" Namara quipped, her laughter fading as the two disappeared into the crowd.

Liliana lingered for a moment longer, her gaze thoughtful as she glanced at Kale one last time. Then, without another word, she turned and strode away, her steps purposeful.

Kale watched her go, unease coiling in his chest. He shook it off, focusing instead on Rika. "Ready?"

Rika adjusted her eyepatch and gave him a wry smile. "Not really. But since when does that matter?"

Kale chuckled. "Fair enough. Let's go."

***

They passed a group of shard-touched, their faceted eyes catching the light as they moved with an air of quiet reverence. Rika glanced at them, then back at Kale. "You think Ikareia's going to have actual answers this time? Or just more riddles?"

"With her?" Kale said. "Probably both."

Rika smiled. "At least you're honest."

As they approached the temple, the towering shard at its heart loomed above them, its fractured surface gleaming with an almost unnatural brilliance. Inside, the temple was as they had left it: vast and echoing, its crystalline walls refracting light into bursts of color. Kale felt a shiver run down his spine as they entered.

Ikareia was waiting, her angular figure silhouetted against the shard's light. Her diamond-like eyes glinted as she turned toward them.

"You return," she said.

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