Aion stood at the edge of a chasm, deeper than any natural canyon, carved into the Ashlands like a wound. Ethereal mist bled from the rift, humming with unstable resonance. Itheon called it the Fracture, a place where reality had been severed during the First Erasure.
"Step into it," Itheon said. "If you want to wield the Null—not just survive it—you have to enter where the world once ended."
Kael stared from a safe distance. "You're both insane."
Aion didn't hesitate.
The moment his foot crossed the rim, gravity twisted. His vision fractured. He fell—not down, but inward—into a place that wasn't space, wasn't time, wasn't even real in the way he understood.
---
He landed hard.
The world around him pulsed, grey and hollow, like a dream halfway remembered. Floating shards of broken memories drifted like islands—some his own, some not.
Here, the Null ruled.
He heard a voice. Familiar. Cold.
"You can't protect them."
Seln.
But when Aion turned, it wasn't the man who'd raised him. It was a twisted reflection, with burning eyes and a stitched mouth.
"You are a fracture. Not a savior."
Aion clenched his fists. "You're not real."
But the ground trembled beneath him. From the mist emerged figures—Inquisitors, warlords, Kael dead, Seln burning—all shaped from fear, from regret.
This was the Rite.
And the Null had one question:
Would he control it… or become what it feared most?
---
Aion reached deep inside himself. Deeper than he had before.
And he found it.
Not rage. Not fear. Just… silence.
The eye of the storm.
The Null accepted.
Reality snapped back—violently.
---
Outside the Fracture, Itheon stepped back as a pulse of anti-Ether surged from the chasm. The air turned cold. Silent. Kael shielded his eyes as a shape rose from the mist.
Aion.
His eyes glowed black, outlined by a silver ring.
Nullborn. Awakened.
Itheon smiled beneath his mask.
"He passed."
---
Far across Scoria, High Seer Maelrik stood before a council of Etherlords.
"The boy has entered the Fracture Rite."
One of the lords sneered. "Then he's already dead."
Maelrik shook his head. "No. He's returned."
Another voice, female, calm and sharp: "Then the Null isn't just reborn. It's evolving."
Maelrik turned toward a massive, chained vault behind them.
"Unseal the Crimson Engine. Prepare the Cardinals. If the boy wants war—"
He placed a hand on the ancient lock.
"—we will give him one."