The city burned.
Flames licked the sky, a jagged inferno splitting the darkness. The scent of ash and blood was thick in the air, a suffocating reminder of the lives already lost.
And at the heart of it all—the rift.
A swirling mass of darkness pulsed in the distance, seething like an open wound in the world. It was from there that the Forsaken crawled, their twisted forms spilling into the ruins like a living plague.
If they didn't close it, the city would fall.
If they failed—everything would be lost.
Zyra stood at the rooftop's edge, eyes locked on the writhing shadows below. "How close can we get before they sense us?"
Kieran stood beside her, his silver gaze unreadable. "Close enough to die quickly."
Zyra exhaled sharply. "Helpful."
He turned slightly, studying her. Then, after a moment—"There's another way."
Zyra arched a brow.
Kieran didn't look at her as he spoke. "I can shield us. Just long enough to slip through the horde."
Zyra's fingers twitched at her sides. Magic. Again.
The same magic that had nearly killed them against the Warden.
She knew what he wasn't saying—that it would cost him. That the more he used his shadows, the more they frayed his control.
Zyra's jaw clenched. "And what happens when you can't hold it anymore?"
Kieran's lips curved—just slightly. "Then we run."
Zyra wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him it was reckless, that they should find another way—but there was no time.
The rift pulsed, and another Forsaken creature crawled out from its depths.
A grotesque thing, with too many limbs and hollow, screaming eyes.
Zyra swallowed.
Kieran was already moving.
Darkness coiled around him, shadows rising at his feet like a living storm. When he turned to her, his power wrapped around them both—a cold, weightless thing, pressing against her skin like the whisper of a ghost.
"Stay close," he murmured.
Zyra didn't hesitate.
---
The Descent into Darkness
The shield held.
The Forsaken twitched, their hollow eyes scanning the ruins, but they didn't see them. Didn't smell them.
Zyra moved carefully, matching Kieran's silent footsteps. The ground beneath them was slick with blood and ash, littered with bodies that had been torn apart.
She tried not to look at the faces.
Tried not to see the ones she couldn't save.
Kieran's voice was low. "Keep your heartbeat steady."
Zyra's fingers curled. "Easier said than done."
Kieran's smirk was barely visible in the dim light. "Try harder."
She shot him a glare but said nothing.
The rift loomed closer.
The closer they got, the stronger the pull became. A deep, gut-wrenching sensation, as if the world itself was being dragged inward.
Zyra's breath hitched.
She could hear whispers.
Soft, slithering voices curling around her mind, brushing against the edges of her thoughts like cold fingers.
Kieran noticed. "Don't listen to them."
Zyra forced herself to focus. "What are they?"
Kieran's expression darkened. "The ones who came before."
Zyra frowned, but before she could ask what he meant—
A figure stepped from the shadows.
Zyra's stomach dropped.
Not a Forsaken.
Not a demon.
A man.
Tall, draped in black, his presence as heavy as the rift itself. His eyes—burning gold—locked onto Kieran with something almost like recognition.
Then he smiled.
"Kieran."
Kieran's body went rigid.
Zyra felt it—the sharp, electric shift in the air.
Whoever this man was—Kieran knew him.
The stranger's voice was smooth, almost amused. "It's been a long time."
Kieran's shadows coiled violently, a predator ready to strike. "Not long enough."
Zyra's pulse thundered.
She had never seen Kieran like this before.
Not cold. Not unreadable.
This was something else.
Something closer to fear.
And that terrified her more than anything.
---
Secrets Unraveled
Zyra stepped forward, fire sparking in her palm. "Who the hell are you?"
The man's golden gaze slid to her, calculating.
Then, as if she were nothing more than a passing thought, he looked away.
Back to Kieran.
Kieran's shadows lashed out first.
They struck fast, sharp tendrils of darkness slicing through the air—
Only to vanish before they could reach him.
Zyra's breath caught.
The man hadn't moved.
Hadn't raised a hand.
The shadows had simply… ceased to exist.
Kieran exhaled slowly. "You're still meddling where you don't belong."
The man chuckled. "And you're still pretending you don't."
Zyra felt it now.
The power rolling off this man—it was like the rift itself. Like the void.
And suddenly, she understood.
This man wasn't just anyone.
He was one of them.
One of the Eclipsed.
Her heart pounded. "You… you're like Kieran."
The man tilted his head slightly. Then, after a moment—"No."
His golden eyes burned.
"Kieran is like me."
---