The eastern isle was smaller than the others, its cliffs jagged and wild, wrapped in thick mist that clung to the rocks like ghostly fingers. As Lior and Elyra approached the outskirts, the air grew colder, and a heavy silence pressed down on them.
"Something's wrong," Elyra murmured, her sharp eyes scanning the horizon. Her hand rested on the hilt of her sword, steady but ready. Lior's heart quickened—not from fear, but from the unknown. The Celestial Code thrummed beneath his skin, sensing the tension.
They reached a clearing where the ground was scarred, deep gouges tearing through the grass and stone. Strange symbols, glowing faintly blue, marked the earth — runes Lior had never seen before. His fingers tingled as the system reacted, pulling at fragments hidden deep within his mind.
"Magic," he whispered. "But it's not like any I've studied."
Elyra frowned. "Dark magic. There's a corruption spreading through the isles. If it's not stopped, the whole world could be poisoned."
From the shadows stepped a figure, cloaked and hooded, eyes glinting with a mixture of fear and defiance. "You're the scholar with the Code," the stranger said, voice rough but steady. "We don't have much time. The fragments you seek—they're disappearing. Someone, or something, is hunting them."
Lior swallowed hard. His journey to restore the world was becoming more dangerous than he ever imagined. The fragile bonds between islands—and people—were breaking faster than he could repair them.
Yet, despite the threat, a spark of resolve ignited within him. The Celestial Code was more than a burden. It was the world's last hope.
Lior knelt beside the glowing runes, his breath catching as the Celestial Code stirred violently beneath his skin. The system's usual steady pulse had turned erratic — like a heartbeat out of sync. Images flashed in his mind: shards of memories not his own, emotions raw and vivid. Joy, fear, regret… all tangled together in a whirlwind he struggled to control.
The fragments—the system's core—were more than just power-ups or abilities. They were pieces of the world's soul, locked away inside people, places, and moments long forgotten. Every time Lior bonded with someone or uncovered a secret, the Code collected these fragments, unlocking new potential.
But here, in the presence of the dark runes, the system's warning flared. Some fragments were fading, slipping away into oblivion. The corruption Elyra mentioned wasn't just physical—it was erasing memories and emotions, severing the bonds that held the world's fabric together.
Lior's vision blurred as a particularly strong fragment surged forward—a memory of warmth and laughter, suddenly cut off by cold despair. He clenched his fists, fighting the flood of sensation. The Celestial Code wasn't just granting power; it was forcing him to feel every broken piece, every lost connection.
"This isn't just a game," he muttered. "It's a responsibility… a pain I have to carry."
Elyra watched quietly, understanding more than words could say. The power to restore the world came with a price: every fragment collected was a wound healed—but also a wound relived.
Lior took a deep breath, steadying himself. If the fragments were disappearing, time was running out. The Celestial Code had chosen him to gather the lost pieces. And he would—no matter the cost.