There was no ground, no sky—only the pulse.
A low, steady thrum that echoed through an endless dark sea.
Nofan floated within it, neither awake nor asleep, his body weightless, his thoughts scattering like ash in the void. The silence was not empty—it was alive, aware, breathing with him.
He did not know how long he had been there. Time didn't seem to move here. The past felt like a memory of someone else, and the future was an idea too fragile to believe in. All that existed was the now—the heartbeat of the dark.
Then, a voice.
Soft. Calm. Vast.
> "You are still resisting."
Nofan's eyes opened, though there was no light to see by. The voice wasn't heard through ears—it was felt, resonating inside his bones.
> "Who are you?" he whispered.
> "You already know."
The darkness shifted, rippling outward like the surface of black water disturbed by wind. For a moment, he saw a silhouette—tall, humanoid, but too perfect to be real. Its edges bled into the void, its form undefined yet absolute.
Nofan felt the pressure in his chest tighten.
> "The source…"
> "The dark source. The one you call a curse."
"And you…" the voice paused, "…you are what I left behind."
Nofan clenched his fists. "I don't belong to you."
> "No one does. Not truly."
"But fragments remember their origin. Even if they deny it."
The space around them began to twist, and with each ripple, Nofan's memories flickered—Ares's smile, the burning village, the moment he lost control. The dark reacted to his emotions, echoing them, amplifying them until the whole void pulsed with grief and anger.
> "You carry pain like it defines you," said the voice.
"Do you even know what you're suffering for?"
He wanted to shout, to say it was because of loss, because of fate, because everything he loved was taken from him—but the words didn't come.
Instead, he whispered,
> "I don't know anymore."
Silence stretched. Then, faintly, the voice grew gentler—almost human.
> "Good. That is the first truth. The one every being must face before it can see."
Nofan looked up—or thought he did. The darkness above him trembled, forming threads of pale light like veins of glass cutting through the void. They pulsed in rhythm with his own heartbeat.
> "You think the curse made you weaker. That it's a parasite consuming you."
"But the curse was never a chain. It was a reflection."
> "Of what?"
> "Of you."
The words struck deeper than any wound.
The void stirred—shapes appeared and vanished: echoes of himself fighting, killing, failing. In each reflection, his eyes burned with the same darkness he'd always feared.
> "You are the storm you run from."
The words trembled through the abyss. Nofan could barely breathe. He remembered every time he blamed the dark source, every time he thought of it as a separate thing—something alien, monstrous.
But what if it was never apart from him?
What if it was him?
> "You've tried to destroy what you didn't understand," the voice continued. "But creation and destruction… are the same motion, in opposite directions."
The darkness around him began to pulse again, stronger. From the black surface, waves of faint color started rising—gray, violet, and deep red. Each wave carried whispers, fragments of thought, memory, and truth.
> "Do you wish to end your suffering?"
Nofan hesitated. His instinct said yes. But another part of him—quieter, deeper—whispered no.
> "If I end it… will I still be me?"
> "You were never one thing. You are the echo of many selves—some lived, some still dreaming. To accept that is not to die. It is to awaken."
> "And if I awaken?"
> "Then you will understand that even pain has purpose."
The void trembled violently. The voice grew distant, its tone heavy like collapsing stars.
> "The next time you open your eyes, you will not be alone. What stirs in your world now… was never meant to sleep forever."
> "What are you talking about?" Nofan shouted. "What's coming?"
> "Your reflection," it replied.
"The thing you call balance. The thing I once called perfection."
Before he could answer, the darkness beneath him erupted.
A surge of violet light tore through the void, pulling him upward, dragging his consciousness back to the realm of flesh and air.
He gasped.
The first breath felt like swallowing fire.
He was on the ground again—the real world, or something like it. The smell of burnt stone filled the air. The camp was in ruins. The others were somewhere far behind, faint shadows through the smoke.
Nofan coughed, clutching his chest. His veins still glowed faintly, dark lines crawling beneath his skin like ink trying to escape.
His mind echoed with the voice's final words: "Even pain has purpose."
He looked around. The world was quiet again, but it didn't feel the same. The shadows were thicker, more alive. The faint whisper of the abyss still lingered at the edge of his hearing, like a heartbeat in the dark.
He rose to his feet, unsteady but calm.
For the first time, he didn't feel fear of the darkness inside him. It didn't seem hostile anymore. It felt… patient. Watching.
Behind him, Siran approached slowly, weapon drawn but lowered.
> "You okay, Nofan?"
Nofan turned to him. His eyes, once clouded by confusion, were now clearer—yet deeper, carrying something old and unreadable.
> "I don't know," he said quietly. "But I think I've been given a choice."
Siran frowned. "A choice?"
Nofan nodded. "To keep fighting what I am… or to learn why I exist at all."
They stood there for a moment, silent, as ash drifted between them like snow.
From the distance, Marin called, her voice shaking:
> "Something's wrong with the sky!"
Both turned.
Above the shattered horizon, clouds swirled unnaturally—forming a circular motion, a spiral like an eye trying to open. And within its center, faint veins of violet light pulsed in rhythm with Nofan's heartbeat.
He stared at it, unmoving. The whisper from the abyss returned, soft and almost tender:
> "The world remembers its maker."
The wind carried the sound of thunder.
But Nofan knew it wasn't thunder.
It was the echo of something ancient waking once more.
He closed his eyes, the ghost of a smile crossing his lips.
> "Then let it wake."
---
End of chapter 15