Chapter 10 Aftermath

Ren awoke to a colorless world.

Not a metaphor. His eyesight had really become all desaturated — everything was grey and washed out, as if seeing through a thousand years of dust caking up glass. His body was a vessel drained to the bottom.

Empty.

WARNING: Void Pulse — uncontrolled release detected All skills temporarily disabled. Recovery time: approximately 72 hours. Body strain: 89%. CRITICAL THRESHOLD APPROACHING.

Eighty-nine percent. On the brink line that none could erase.

And all his skills were dead. Silent Step, Shadow Claw, Null Shield, Void Bolt, Devour — each one were dark in his status panel like stars that had already burned out. Ren was back to being just Grade-D with zero abilities. More susceptible than any Scavenger in the Fractured Lands.

"Three days." Kael sat next to him, Heal Aura pulsing softly into Ren's body. His face was haggard — the dark circles under his eyes suggested that sleep hadn’t exactly been a top priority while Ren was unconscious. "You were out for three days. I nearly chiseled you a headstone.”

Aela appeared from the entrance. The cage around her hands was thin — she’d been holding the perimeter for three solid days without actual resting. "Mara Synn retreated."

Good news. The way Aela phrased it, though, did not sound like good news.

"The Void Pulse wounded her. A Void wound, normal Heal can’t fix that. Her right hand was temporarily rendered useless.” Aela paused. "But she's alive. As it is, she’s already reported back to my father.”

Bad news.

“And hear this,” Kael went on, lowering his voice. “Every single mana sensor in a two-hundred-kilometer radius picked up your Void Pulse. “Everyone with detection capabilities — Sentinel Corps, Scavengers, underground organizations, everything — knows that there’s an active Void-class in the Fractured Lands now.”

Ren gazed up at the stone ceiling.

Congratulations, Lyra said. Her voice was weak — weaker than Ren had ever heard it. The Void Pulse had impacted her as well. You have just rolled out the red carpet for every predator on this continent.”

Second night. Ren still was not able to move much — his legs had no use for what Ren’s brain told them, acting with a stubbornness that really was embarrassing at this point. Kael had succumbed to sleep in the corner of their little space, finally conceding defeat to exhaustion only after Ren threatened to crawl outside if he didn't take a moment's rest.

Aela sat beside him. Her turn to keep watch.

The first alone they had ever talked, without her serving as a buffer between them.

The silence felt awkward at first — the kind that arises when two people begin to realize they’ve never really talked outside of a battle field or strategic point. Then Aela asked about Devour.

Not with fear. Not with disgust. With a pure scientific curiosity — the eyes of an Enchanter observing a mechanism, not a monster.

“Your Devour makes it work, because it doesn’t push the Core in,” she said, tracing at an invisible diagram formed in the air with a finger. “Your Core and the target’s are no longer separated. No rejection. No conflict. Just... merging." A pause. “Project Rebirth misfired because my father attempted to impose it — like suturing two different skins. Naturally the body rejected it.”

Ren looked at her. “You’re acting like my power is cool or something, instead of scary as fuck.”

Aela held his gaze. Didn't look away. "Fascinating and terrifying. The two are not mutually exclusive.” The corner of her mouth lifted a tiny bit. "Like you."

A quiet moment. The air around them changed — thinner, more conscious. Ren wanted to ask about the missing page from his journal. Ren is not my grandson. Ren is—. But the words wouldn’t come, as though his tongue understood that question was too heavy for him to carry this evening.

Aela, as if hearing his thoughts — or perhaps reading the question in his gaze: “We’ll get to the bottom of it. “He didn’t just leave a trail for it to disappear — he left a trail for it to be discovered.” She gazed down and picked at a loose thread on her sleeve. "By the right person."

Ren didn't answer. But there was something in his chest — that wasn’t the Void, that wasn’t the Core, that wasn’t any skill — was feeling a fraction warmer than it had before.

Third day. Shadow Claw returned first — thin and weak as the shadow made by a candle flame, but there. Ren flexed open and closed his hand, the familiar darkness pouring between his fingers. Slow. But recovering.

The trio sat in a circle. A map of the Fractured Lands, drawn from memory by Aela, lay spread between them.

“We cannot remain in Ashveil,” Aela said. Fact, not opinion. "This place is compromised after the Void Pulse. Hundreds of kilometers have every sensor with our coordinates.”

"So where do we go?" Kael pointed at the map. “Travelers Guide to The Fractured Lands — not exactly a brochure stuffed with vacation destinations.”

Ren locked his gaze on one specific point of the map. Deeper. Darker. In the heart of the Fractured Lands.

"Hollowspire."

Aela raised an eyebrow. "The underground city. The Remnant's headquarters."

"Gareth's journal mentions it. The Remnant has archives from before the Collapse that no one else has.” Ren glanced at each of his companions. “Details regarding the missing page.”

"The Remnant are dangerous." Aela crossed her arms. "They're not the good guys. “They’re information brokers, arms dealers, and human traffickers if the price is right.”

Kael shrugged. We’re not the good guys either.” We're the still-alive guys."

Ren stood. His legs trembled, but held. "Hollowspire. We need answers more than we need safety.’

No one argued further. The first thing ever they had decided together — not because one man led and showed the way, but because all three of them knew there was no other way that made sense.

They left Ashveil at dawn.

The first light brushed the ruins of the ancient city like a hand stroking the face of the dead — soft, but too late. Ren glanced back once. The Void symbol hanging on the city gate pulsed weakly in response with a dark violet light, flickering slowly as if to bid farewell.

Or a warning.

Ren did not look back again.

Elsewhere.

A place that was on no map. A dark room—not because there was no light, but because light did not wish to come in. A gigantic crystal screen hung in the air before them, ingrained with a map of the Fractured Lands.

A figure in a robe sat facing the screen. Unmoving. Not breathing — or maybe breathing so softly that we can’t hear it.

Their fingers pushed on the black dot on screen. Lingered.

Then they spoke. The voice was old. Heavy. With the patience of someone who had been waiting a long, long time.

“A Void Pulse… after a millennium.”

A pause.

“Gareth, your child has finally woken.”

Your child. Not your grandchild.

In the gloom of that room, the crystal screen throbbed — and the figure smiled.