The road stretched endlessly beneath a bruised sky.
Troady and Lira walked side by side through the wasteland where entire mountains had folded like paper. Every few miles, they passed relics from fallen realms: shattered temples, statues that bled light instead of stone, and rivers that flowed backward into the clouds.
Lira's voice broke the silence.
"Every ruin we cross belonged to a world that once had its own god. When a Fragment falls, the god dies. What's left becomes… this."
Troady frowned. "So we're basically walking through divine graveyards."
"Exactly," she said quietly.
---
They reached an abandoned outpost as night fell. Lanterns still burned with faint blue fire—proof someone, or something, had been there recently. Troady leaned against a wall, examining the dull pulse of the Aethern Fragment in his chest.
"Every time it glows, I feel like something's watching through me," he murmured.
Lira handed him a flask of water. "That's because they are. The gods you wounded at the Veil—they're still searching. Your existence tears at their laws."
He gave a dry laugh. "Great. I'm officially wanted by heaven. Wonder if they print posters."
Before she could respond, a voice echoed from the shadows.
"You shouldn't joke about heaven, mortal. Not when it's already dying."
They turned sharply. A figure emerged from the dark—tall, draped in ragged silver robes, carrying a lantern that glowed with fractured light. His eyes were empty, but alive with wisdom older than any world.
Lira whispered, "A Seraph Remnant…"
The being bowed slightly. "Once, yes. Now, merely a messenger. The road you walk leads to the Cradle of Shards, where the last gods hide their hearts. But beware—each step draws you closer to becoming what you fear."
Troady clenched his fist. "And what's that supposed to mean?"
"That you are not wielding the curse," the Remnant said softly. "The curse is wielding you."
Before Troady could speak, the Remnant's body dissolved into ash carried by the wind. His lantern remained, flickering with symbols of unknown origin.
Lira picked it up cautiously. "A message… or a warning?"
"Both," Troady said, his voice steady. "Either way, it's a path forward."
---
As dawn crept across the horizon, the first rays of light pierced through the broken clouds, painting the ruins in gold and scarlet. Troady looked at the sky—still cracked from the celestial battle—and felt the Fragment thrum in rhythm with the rising sun.
"Guess even shattered worlds can have mornings," he said.
Lira smiled faintly. "Then let's keep walking. The next world won't save itself."
And so they stepped back onto the endless road, lantern in hand, heading toward the unknown Cradle—where truth, danger, and the ghosts of gods awaited.
To be continued…