The world is quiet again.
Or maybe it's just pretending.
The war ended weeks ago, but the silence feels heavier than the gunfire ever did. Every morning, I wake up to a sky so pale it looks drained — like even the sun has forgotten how to burn properly. The air still smells faintly of ozone and ash. The ground is scarred with deep cracks where Aether once bled through.
And yet… there are flowers growing between them now.
They call this place the Reclaimed Plains, though nothing about it feels reclaimed. It's where the last battle ended — where Lunaris disappeared, and where my Aether pulse went quiet for the first time. I still come here sometimes when I can't sleep. Which, to be honest, is most nights.
Today, I sit on a broken piece of armor, watching the dawn crawl over the ruins. The horizon burns pink and gold, but all I can think about is the faint whisper that sometimes rides the wind.
"Haruto…"
It's so faint I can never tell if it's real — or just memory.
---
The others handle the silence differently.
Aya wakes before everyone, stretching and doing her ridiculous morning exercises — because apparently, if the world didn't end, your fitness routine shouldn't either. She says it keeps her "balanced." I say she's just showing off.
Miyu, on the other hand, has taken up cooking. She experiments every morning with the leftover rations and wild herbs we gather. Her "Aether Soup" has a tendency to sparkle. It's unsettling.
Kaede's quiet — even more than usual. She spends hours rebuilding the comms tower that fell during the last siege. When I asked her why, she said, "If we can hear each other, we won't repeat the same mistakes."
And Yumi… well, Yumi talks to ghosts now.
At least, that's what she says.
---
"Haruto," Aya calls out from behind me, hands on her hips. "You're brooding again, aren't you?"
I sigh. "I'm not brooding. I'm… thinking deeply."
"That's literally what brooding is."
She sits beside me, legs crossed, her red hair catching the sunlight like fire. "You still come here every morning. You're waiting for something, huh?"
I don't answer. She doesn't push. Aya never does when it comes to Lunaris.
Instead, she throws a small pebble into the dirt. "You know, Kaede said the Aether sensors picked up a pulse near here last night. Thought it was a glitch, but…" She glances at me. "You didn't feel anything, did you?"
I shake my head. "No."
But I did.
It wasn't strong — just a flicker under my ribs, like a memory of warmth. A feeling I thought I'd lost when Lunaris vanished into light.
---
By midday, we're back at the camp near the rebuilt fortress. The Aether Legion is officially disbanded, but the survivors still wear their badges. Old habits die hard. Some of them are rebuilding towns, others escorting supply convoys. We — the last unit — were asked to "observe the southern borders," which really means "keep an eye on whatever weird things might still crawl out of the ground."
We've been seeing strange patterns lately. Animals acting oddly. Shadows moving without wind. At night, there's a low hum under the earth, like distant chanting. Most people ignore it. I can't.
Because I hear words in it sometimes.
---
"Lunch is ready!" Miyu's voice breaks my thoughts.
She's standing proudly over a pot, wearing a makeshift apron that reads 'Kiss the Cook or Perish' — Yumi's handiwork, obviously. The smell is… not unpleasant, but suspicious.
"What is it this time?" I ask warily.
"Stew," she says. "With energy roots and purified Aether residue."
Aya pokes at it with a spoon. "That sounds like it violates at least three nutritional laws."
Miyu smiles sweetly. "Then it's experimental."
I take a cautious bite. It's… actually good.
Warm. Familiar. It tastes like the kind of peace we used to imagine when the war was still raging.
Yumi sits down next to me with her plate, staring out at the horizon. "Hey, Captain," she murmurs. "Do you believe in ghosts?"
I freeze. "You're really asking me that?"
"I saw someone last night," she continues, unfazed. "She was standing by the old well, glowing faintly. I think it was Lunaris."
Aya groans. "Yumi, we've talked about this. You keep seeing 'Lunaris' every time the moonlight hits fog."
"But she spoke this time."
Miyu looks up. "What did she say?"
Yumi's expression darkens. "She said, 'The dawn isn't real.'"
No one laughs. Even Aya goes quiet.
I stare into my bowl, pretending the stew still tastes normal.
But it doesn't.
---
That night, I dream again.
Or maybe I remember.
I stand beneath the same white sky where the battle ended, surrounded by light that hums like a heartbeat. Lunaris stands a few meters away, her hair drifting as if underwater.
"Haruto," she says, smiling faintly. "You kept your promise."
"I tried," I whisper. "But I can't hear you anymore."
She reaches out, touching my chest — right where my Aether pulse once burned. "You're listening to the wrong world."
Before I can ask what she means, her expression changes. Fear flickers in her eyes. The light behind her ripples, and a voice — not hers — whispers through the void:
"He's still inside you."
The world cracks open like glass.
I wake up gasping.
---
Morning again. Pale sky, soft wind. Everything looks normal. But the air feels heavier, like the calm before a storm.
Kaede greets me with her usual blank stare. "You look like you saw a ghost."
"Maybe I did."
She adjusts her visor. "Sensors picked up something again. South quadrant this time. Aether readings are climbing fast."
I nod. "We'll check it out."
---
The south quadrant used to be farmland. Now it's half-buried in crystalline growths — remnants of collapsed Aether conduits. As we approach, the hum in the air grows stronger, vibrating in my bones.
Aya unslings her rifle. "This doesn't feel right."
"Understatement of the century," I mutter.
Then we see it — a sphere of white light pulsing slowly, like a heartbeat, hovering above the ruined field.
Miyu gasps. "It's beautiful…"
"No," Kaede says quietly. "It's alive."
The ground trembles. Cracks spiral outward. The sphere shatters like glass, and something steps out — a silhouette, feminine, radiating cold light.
For a moment, I can't breathe. It's her.
"Lunaris…"
But her eyes are empty — pure white, no trace of warmth or recognition.
Aya raises her weapon. "That's not her."
The figure tilts her head, voice echoing like two overlapping tones.
"The goddess sleeps beneath the dawn… but the vessel still remembers."
The air twists. The world screams.
---
We scatter as the Aether field explodes outward, distorting reality itself. Shadows stretch, the sky bends, and I feel something inside me react — a pulse answering the call.
"Haruto, fall back!" Aya shouts.
But I can't move. The same light that consumed Lunaris now burns through my veins, awakening the buried resonance I thought I'd lost. The figure's voice cuts through the chaos.
"You are the key she left behind."
I clutch my chest, pain searing through me. The world flickers between light and dark. I see flashes — Lunaris smiling, the goddess's blade piercing the sky, the reflection of my own eyes glowing the same impossible white.
"Stop it—!"
The light snaps — then fades.
When I open my eyes, the field is empty. The sphere, the figure — gone.
But the earth still hums. And inside my chest, the Aether pulse has returned.
Aya kneels beside me, panting. "What the hell was that?"
I stare at my hands, trembling. "I don't know…"
But deep down, I do.
Lunaris's voice whispers faintly in my mind — not from above, but within.
"The dawn isn't real."
---
That night, I can't sleep again. The camp is silent, but the whispers aren't. They come from everywhere now — the wind, the stars, the earth itself.
Each one carries her voice, fragmented and pleading.
"Find me…"
"He's awake…"
"Don't trust the dawn…"
I look toward the horizon. The first light of morning creeps across the plains, soft and golden. For a moment, it looks almost peaceful again.
But then the sun flickers — just slightly, like a broken signal.
And in that instant, I see it: a faint, glowing figure standing at the edge of the field, watching me.
The same empty eyes.
The same silence.
The same impossible light.
To be continued in Chapter 17: "The Dawn That Lies."