The air beneath Almagh was thick — not with dust or smoke, but with memory.
The tunnels breathed faintly, the stone walls exhaling warmth as if something alive pulsed behind them. Lian walked slowly, lightless, letting her senses adjust to the rhythmic hum beneath her feet. Every step echoed like a heartbeat, and for a moment, she wasn't sure if it was hers or the city's.
The deeper she went, the stronger the resonance became. The violet hue of her soul flickered faintly around her hands — not bright, not burning, but restless.
> "They're waiting," the Void's inner voice murmured.
"They remember what you are."
"I'm not one of them," she whispered back.
> "You might be closer than you think."
Lian didn't answer.
Ahead, a corridor widened into an open chamber. Broken statues of the Guardians lined the walls — their once-holy visages twisted and hollowed. The floor was covered in ash, and in the center stood a pool of dark water, perfectly still. No ripples, no reflection. Just black glass.
Lian knelt beside it. "This was a temple once," she said quietly. "Before the resonance collapsed."
She touched the surface — and it moved.
Not with water, but with faces.
Dozens of them, emerging from the blackness like smoke caught in water. Their mouths opened and closed, not screaming but whispering. The sound wasn't language. It was emotion — grief, longing, despair — all bleeding together until it became unbearable.
And then the whispers took form.
Shapes began to rise from the pool, one after another. Human outlines, translucent, their bodies made of the same dark resonance that filled the air. Their eyes opened — colorless, hollow.
The Voidsworn had awakened.
They stood in silence, watching her. No breath, no sound, no movement — just presence.
Lian stayed still. "You were human once," she said softly. "Guardians, maybe. Or wanderers who lost your souls."
One of them stepped forward. Its voice was like wind scraping over stone.
> "We were the ones who tried to cleanse the silence."
Another followed.
> "We burned the colors from our hearts."
The chorus rose around her.
> "Now we remember everything."
The resonance spiked. The air vibrated, pushing against her chest. Lian steadied herself, eyes glowing faint violet. "I didn't come to fight you."
The first Voidsworn tilted its head.
> "Then why come here, violet one? To pity us?"
"No," she said. "To understand."
The entity's expression twisted — not anger, but something close to sorrow.
> "Understanding won't save you. It didn't save us."
The ground trembled. The pool behind them rippled violently as more figures began to rise — hundreds now. The resonance had turned into a low, physical vibration that rattled the stone.
Lian's voice hardened. "If you've become part of the Void, then you know what it's doing to the world above."
> "The world above forgot us first," one hissed.
"The Guardians purified, the mortals obeyed, and the silence fed."
The words hit like a pulse. Lian felt her knees weaken — the weight of their emotion pressing through her.
She closed her eyes and focused her breathing, drawing her mind inward.
Her violet aura brightened, weaving into threads that pulsed through the air. The resonance calmed slightly, drawn toward her presence.
"I can hear you," she whispered. "All of you. But you're not gone. You're fragments — still connected."
The Voidsworn hesitated. Their shapes flickered, unstable.
> "Connected… to what?"
"To what's left of you," Lian said.
"To the memory that's still human."
For a moment, silence filled the chamber — not hostile, but uncertain.
Then one of the Voidsworn — a tall figure with faint silver markings on what used to be armor — stepped closer. Its voice was softer than the others.
> "You speak as if you've forgotten what silence does. It doesn't take. It consumes."
Lian met its hollow gaze. "Then let it consume me first."
Before the entity could answer, the Void's inner voice spoke again, echoing inside her skull — louder than before.
> "Don't."
"If you merge with them, I won't be able to separate you. You'll lose your color."
But she didn't stop. She extended her hand toward the Voidsworn leader. The violet glow spread from her palm, threads of light weaving through the dark. For a heartbeat, the entire chamber pulsed as one — violet meeting gray, warmth meeting cold.
And in that instant, she saw them — flashes of memory not her own:
a Guardian lighting a torch in the darkness,
a child clutching an empty pendant,
a man watching his soul fade from gold to black.
Lian gasped and staggered back. The link broke.
The Voidsworn leader shuddered violently, half its form dissolving.
> "You… saw it."
"Yes," she breathed. "You were never monsters."
The others began to tremble, flickering between shapes — some human, some barely formed. The resonance in the chamber turned chaotic, neither Void nor light.
> "What have you done?" the inner voice hissed.
"You're breaking the boundary between them and you."
Lian wiped the blood from her nose and whispered,
"Maybe that's what needs to break."
The light around her pulsed one final time — and the chamber went dark.