While Novan was still submerged in the depths of unconsciousness after his brutal battle against Syran,
the darkness whispered to him.
A distant voice echoed his name — as if it were the beginning of everything.
Words that had never left his mind.
> "Awaken… O Shadow of Eternity."
He opened his eyes, but all he could see was the tattered ceiling of a tent swaying with the wind.
His arms were bound tightly behind his back, the cold bite of metal digging into his wrists.
He tried to breathe, but his chest felt heavy — as though the air itself had turned to mud.
Outside, faint sounds reached him — footsteps, muffled laughter, the grinding of steel.
When he tried to move, the tent's entrance flapped open.
A tall man entered — gray-haired, with eyes sharp as blades.
He walked toward him with unhurried steps, utterly calm.
— "Finally, you're awake."
Novan looked up with clouded eyes.
— "Where… am I?"
Syran's voice carried a hint of suspicion:
— "Somewhere safe… for now."
Novan asked,
— "Am I a prisoner?"
Syran's lips curved into a faint smile.
— "That depends on how you answer my next questions."
He sat down on a simple wooden chair before him.
— "When the pulse happened, you were at its center. Everyone else around it died… except you."
Syran paused briefly, then continued,
— "I want to know what you were trying to do."
— "Pulse?"
Novan lifted his trembling hand and saw black veins crawling beneath his skin — appearing, then vanishing again.
— "I… don't know. It was as if my body acted on its own. I couldn't control it."
Syran frowned.
— "That's not enough. The world outside is collapsing. The Source is moving again. And you were right in the heart of it."
Novan muttered quietly,
— "The Source…?"
Syran nodded.
— "Don't tell me you don't know what that is. Where the hell have you been?"
He exhaled and added,
— "You could say it's the origin of every curse — and every power. Long ago, the balance between light and shadow was broken. The Dark Source began to twist reality itself. Now, we gather those who carry fragments of its power — trying to understand it… before it understands itself."
Novan:
— "And I'm one of them?"
Syran:
— "You're not one of them… You're the only anomaly we've ever seen. You're… different."
He leaned closer.
— "There's one thing I trust above all else — my instinct. You're not a curse. I don't care what others say — they only see half the truth. Inside you lies something unique… a power I can't yet define."
Novan's eyes narrowed.
— "And what makes you so sure of that?"
Syran replied frankly,
— "Because I'm not from here."
Novan tried to question him further, but Syran turned and left the tent — leaving him drowning once more in questions.
Only one thought burned in Novan's mind:
He needed to understand what was happening in this damned world.
---
Outside, Syran stood by the fire, speaking with a woman named Maren.
— "Why did you bring him here?" she asked. "You know he could endanger us all."
Syran's voice was cold.
— "I saw everything I needed to see in his eyes… pain. The curse doesn't choose randomly — it seeks those who've endured unimaginable suffering to forge energy from it. He's not a curse… he's something else."
Maren scoffed.
— "And you think that's going to help us? We're just trying to survive — not fight the abominations that crawled out of nowhere."
Syran's tone darkened.
— "And do you call this survival? Living in fear, powerless to act?"
He looked into the flames and whispered,
— "I swore to find a way to end this hell. And if I can't… I'll believe in the one who can — even if he comes after the end of time."
Around them, the rest of the group prepared their meal.
Each of them bore traces of power:
Faris, the massive warrior who could turn his blood into armor.
Elena, the small woman who could silence the very sound of a heartbeat.
And Kael, the young boy who could read memories with a touch.
They were bound by one purpose —
to understand the Source before it consumed their world.
Maren glanced at the tent.
— "I think he sees us as enemies."
Syran shook his head.
— "No… he's thirstier than any of us to know the truth."
---
Night crept in, and the wind outside began to sing his name again.
Novan heard the whispers — that same haunting tone that pulsed like the earth's heartbeat.
> "They do not understand you… but they will need you."
He lifted his head, looking around — but no one was there.
The chains around his wrists began to crack, as if his body itself rejected the idea of restraint.
Just then, Kael entered — his expression cautious.
— "Don't try to break them. They'll kill you if you do."
Novan's voice was steady.
— "Who are you?"
Kael:
— "Someone who wants to understand what you are."
He hesitated, then reached out his hand.
— "Let me touch you."
Novan didn't respond, but he didn't resist either.
The moment Kael's fingers brushed his skin, his eyes rolled back.
His body trembled — as if he were falling into an endless abyss.
He gasped for breath… then collapsed.
Novan whispered,
— "You shouldn't have done that."
The air burst open around him.
Dark tendrils spilled from his body — snakelike, smoky, alive — licking the walls before vanishing again.
Then, all went still.
Syran rushed inside after hearing the commotion.
He found Kael pale on the ground, and Novan surrounded by a heavy, unnatural energy.
— "Maren! Bring the reinforced chains!" he shouted.
But before she could move, a deep voice rose from within Novan —
— "I'm not your enemy."
Everyone froze.
Novan lifted his head, his eyes shimmering with dark light.
— "I was searching for the Source… long before you."
Syran stepped closer, curiosity flickering in his gaze.
— "How?"
Novan:
— "Because the Source calls to me… It was born from me."
Silence fell.
The wind stopped. Even the fire dimmed — as if the universe itself paused to hear that truth.
Syran whispered,
— "What do you mean… born from you?"
Novan smiled faintly — tears and shadows glinting in his eyes.
— "I am not the son of this world."
---
The night deepened, and the sky above began to shimmer with threads of black light — the same light Syran had seen in the first pulse.
Maren whispered,
— "It's happening again… the pulse."
Syran's voice trembled,
— "No… this isn't a new pulse."
He looked up, as the black light twisted into a massive vortex — an eye forming at its center.
— "This… is an answer."
And in that instant, Novan opened his eyes fully —
and the world around them exploded in a second pulse, stronger than the first.
A pulse that carried the awareness of the Source itself.
---
End of Chapter 7