The camp was no longer the camp Sid remembered.
Where tents once stood, empty spaces yawned like wounds. Where laughter and arguments had bounced off stone and trees, only uneasy silence lingered. The Hollow's creeping corruption had spread, twisting nature's edges into sharp angles and choking the air with a metallic tang.
Sid walked into the training ground at dusk, his arm scar glowing faintly with both gold and black veins. His face, hardened by days of pain, bore dark shadows under his eyes. But his stride remained purposeful, even defiant.
Reinhardt stood near the entrance, shoulders stiff, his great hands twitching as if ready to strike at nothing. His armor was scratched and dull. His eyes, once sharp with loyalty, were now bloodshot and distant.
Kael's absence hung like a missing limb. Sid felt it before he even looked around. The others avoided his gaze, whispering in hushed tones before falling silent as he passed.
Lucien stood apart, speaking in low tones with two other Velari guards. His eyes followed Sid's every move, calculating, concerned, but also wary.
Sid's jaw tightened. "Where's Kael?"
The group fell silent. Reinhardt's mouth opened, but no sound came. Finally, an older guard muttered, "He… vanished three days ago."
"Vanished?" Sid's voice was sharp.
Lucien stepped forward. "He received a storm-marked message. It was coded… an order. We suspect assassination."
Sid's breath hitched. "Assassination?" He spun toward Reinhardt. "And you… you all just stand here?"
Reinhardt growled low in his throat but said nothing.
Nox, arriving at that moment, cut through the silence like a blade. His eyes were grim, his usual calm replaced with fury barely contained.
"We don't know who's behind it yet," Nox hissed. "But it's not random. The gods… the demons… someone wants you broken, Sid. They see you as a threat. They are already moving against us."
The words hit Sid like a stone.
His fists clenched, veins rising along his neck. "Then why are we still standing here?"
No one answered.
The air seemed to thicken. Reinhardt's eyes flared, his muscles tensing as if his own rage fought to explode. Lucien's fingers twitched, ready to intervene but uncertain if force would help or worsen matters.
Varas, standing at the edge of the camp, leaned against a pillar of stone, amused and relaxed as if chaos were the natural state of things. He didn't speak, but his eyes glittered with approval at the unraveling.
Sid's mind spun — each face, each reaction feeding his growing anger and distrust.
They look at me like I'm already lost, he thought. Like they expect me to fall, to burn everything I touch.
His scar throbbed again. The flames within him hissed softly, eager to feed.
"Enough!" Sid barked, his voice raw with emotion. "I'm training to fight, to survive. And yet you fear me more than the Hollow tearing through the land!"
Reinhardt's lips trembled, but he held back. Lucien's eyes flashed with regret. Nox's fists tightened, but he bowed his head, silently acknowledging the truth.
Seraphiel's golden discipline, Varas's brutal teachings, Kael's disappearance — it all converged like a storm cloud ready to break.
Nox's eyes met Sid's and for a brief moment, sorrow and determination flickered together. "We're not turning on you, Sid," Nox growled softly. "We're trying not to lose you."
Sid's chest heaved. He wanted to believe it. But deep inside, the whisper returned, curling around his thoughts like smoke:
"You will be broken… or you will break them all…"
Sid's eyes hardened.
"I'll train," he spat, "but I'll do it on my terms. I'll learn both flames. And if they come for me, I'll burn them first."
The camp remained silent.
Only the wind answered — rushing through trees now skeletal and gray, carrying distant howls from the spreading Hollow, as if the world itself mourned the alliances crumbling beneath its shadow.