The night sky above the ruined city was cracked with lightning.
Neon lights flickered weakly across shattered glass towers, and the air smelled of rust and ozone.
Lysandra and Lune walked side by side through the hollow streets. The little girl hummed softly, her mismatched shoes tapping against the asphalt. Her pink eyes glowed faintly, casting eerie reflections off the puddles.
Every now and then, Lysandra glanced at her. The girl looked harmless — too harmless — but something about her made the air heavy, like reality itself was holding its breath.
"Lune," Lysandra said at last, her voice echoing off a half-collapsed wall, "what are you, really?"
Lune tilted her head, still humming. "I told you already! I'm one of Doran's creations. The first one. She called me Level One."
"Level One…" Lysandra muttered. "So there are others?"
Lune shook her head, her twin ribbons fluttering. "Not yet. Doran hasn't made Level Two. She said she would, but… she got busy fighting something else."
The words sent a chill through Lysandra. "Something else?"
Lune looked up at the sky, eyes distant. "Something that doesn't belong anywhere. Even Doran didn't like it." Then she smiled brightly again. "But that's boring talk! I wanna see your world! You have so many locks here—it's like one big puzzle box!"
Lysandra watched her twirl among the rubble. "You talk like you're just curious," she said, "but your power… it feels endless."
Lune giggled, covering her mouth. "Endless? Oh, no! I'm really weak!"
Lysandra frowned. "Weak? You don't feel weak. I can't even touch your presence. My power doesn't react to you at all."
Lune stopped twirling and faced her, hands clasped behind her back. "That's because you can't lock something that doesn't belong in your universe. I'm not… inside it, not really."
Her tone shifted — soft but ancient, like a melody older than the stars.
Lysandra swallowed. "You mean you're stronger than Doran?"
Lune blinked once, surprised, and then laughed — a bright, almost musical sound that didn't fit the ruined city around them. "Stronger than Doran? Oh no, silly! I only have one percent of her power."
Lysandra froze. "…One percent?"
Lune nodded, smiling as if she'd said something perfectly ordinary. "Uh-huh! That's why he called me Level One. When she made me, she said: 'You're my first percent. The key to what's coming next.'"
Lysandra stared at her, feeling the weight of those words. "But if you're that strong with one percent… what is Doran?"
Lune tilted her head. "Hmm… I don't know. Maybe… the universe's locksmith? Or maybe the key itself. She never told me."
The wind blew through the ruins, carrying a hollow whistle through the empty skyscrapers. Lysandra tried to speak, but her throat tightened. She had fought the original Keybreaker — a being powerful enough to reshape reality's seals — and nearly died. Yet this child, this smiling, playful girl, might erase the entire city without meaning to.
And she said she was weak.
Lysandra exhaled slowly. "When you left him… what was left behind?"
Lune's smile faded for the first time. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Only one of her weaker creatures. A little monster he made to watch over the empty place. It's not very strong… but it never dies. That's what she does when she's bored — she builds things that don't end."
Her eyes glimmered faintly pink as she added, "I didn't want to stay. Everything there was already finished. Nothing ever changed."
Lysandra looked at her — at the ribbons, the stitches, the small cracks on her doll-like arms. "So you came here… to feel alive."
Lune's expression softened. "Yeah. I like seeing things break and fix themselves. I like how your world keeps trying." She reached out suddenly, placing her small hand over Lysandra's. "You're like that too. Broken, but still turning."
For a moment, Lysandra couldn't respond. The warmth of Lune's hand was strange — faintly cold but pulsing with a rhythm that wasn't quite a heartbeat.
Then the ground shook.
A roar echoed from the next street — a mechanical howl that rattled the cracked windows.
Lysandra tensed. "Stay back." She summoned her golden key, spinning it once as a glowing ring of light formed around her. "There's another construct nearby."
But Lune only tilted her head, looking curious.
From the smoke, a massive war machine dragged itself into view — a broken sentinel from the old world, powered by rogue energy cores. Its single crimson eye blazed as it aimed its cannons at them.
Lysandra raised her key. "Lock—"
Before she could finish, Lune blinked once.
The sentinel stopped moving. Its cannons froze mid-rotation. Then, slowly, the metal began to unravel, threads of reality pulling apart like cloth.
Within seconds, the machine dissolved into shimmering dust.
Lysandra's breath caught. "You— you didn't even move."
Lune blinked innocently. "Oh. Was that bad? I didn't mean to use that much."
"That much?" Lysandra whispered. "How much did you use?"
Lune held up a finger. "One percent."
The silence that followed was heavy. Even the wind seemed afraid to move.
Lysandra looked at the glowing dust drifting away, her mind spinning. If that was one percent, she thought, then Doran… could unmake existence with a thought.
Lune watched the dust settle, her voice soft again. "Don't worry. I don't like breaking things unless I have to."
Lysandra finally exhaled, lowering her key. "You're terrifying, Lune."
The girl smiled sweetly. "I know."
Then she twirled again, ribbons fluttering. "Come on, Miss Keybreaker! You promised we'd unlock the world!"
Lysandra couldn't help but smile faintly as she followed. "Right. Just… try not to unlock everything."
Lune giggled, skipping ahead. "No promises!"
---
As they vanished into the neon ruins, the clouds shifted above.
Far beyond that broken world — in a place without time or light — something vast stirred awake.