Kaelen's steps echoed in the cathedral of bone, each one slower than the last.
The Heart hung before him, impossibly vast up close, every crystal facet pulsing with an inner light that seemed… alive.
He raised his sword.
It felt heavier than ever.
His breath was uneven, his grip trembling—not from fear, but from the unbearable pull.
> "Strike me… and be free," the Heart whispered, its voice now like silk, curling around his thoughts.
"Or touch me… and know the truth."
Kaelen's vision blurred. He saw flashes—cities burning, seas boiling, shadows swallowing mountains. But in each vision, there was him, standing untouched in the center, power radiating from his hands.
He blinked, and the visions vanished. Only the Heart remained.
His arm lowered. The tip of his sword scraped against the black glass floor.
"No," he muttered, "I came here to end this."
> "Then end yourself."
The words hit like a blade. For a heartbeat, Kaelen's mind went blank—no thoughts, no resistance—just the steady rhythm of the Heart, matching his own pulse.
His free hand rose slowly, almost against his will, until his fingertips brushed the surface of the crystal.
The world exploded.
Light, pain, and memories not his own flooded through him—countless lifetimes of guardians before him, each one falling to the same fate. Each one thinking they had a choice.
Kaelen screamed, but no sound came.
The Heart's voice filled him, drowning out everything else.
> "Welcome home."
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