The first thing to disappear was the wind.
Kael noticed because the forest had been restless all evening. Leaves scraping against one another. Branches creaking. The low hiss of pine needles shifting overhead.
Then—
Nothing.
The silence did not descend.
It replaced.
The air felt held.
Blackroot Forest stood perfectly still, every trunk rigid, every branch suspended as if carved from stone. Even the insects had gone mute.
Kael stood at the tree line, frowning.
Behind him, the village carried on in warm ignorance—lanternlight, distant laughter, the comfort of fire against cold stone.
Before him, the forest watched.
He did not know why he felt that so clearly.
But he did.
Then the sky fractured.
Not with thunder.
Not with flame.
A thin white line etched itself across the heavens, cutting clean through the stars. It did not flash or blaze. It simply existed, as though it had always been there and reality had only just remembered.
Kael's breath caught.
The fracture widened.
The stars near it dimmed.
Then vanished.
One by one.
Erased without flare or falling.
The silence deepened until it pressed against his skull.
Something was wrong.
No—
Something had arrived.
The earth beneath his boots trembled.
A pulse.
Not seismic.
Intentional.
Kael staggered as pain detonated behind his eyes. He dropped to one knee, fingers digging into frozen soil.
The fracture in the sky spread wider.
Within it—
There was no light.
No fire.
No shape.
Only absence.
A depth so complete it felt like looking into the space behind creation.
And it was looking back.
The trees bent.
Every trunk in Blackroot Forest tilted toward him—not in wind, not in collapse—
In acknowledgment.
A whisper entered his mind.
It did not use words.
It did not need to.
You.
The pulse beneath the ground intensified.
His heart beat against it.
Or with it.
He couldn't tell.
Images tore through him—
Cities drowning in ash.
Statues of gods toppled and shattered.
Wings burning black against a sky that no longer held stars.
A throne of broken halos.
Empty.
Waiting.
Kael screamed.
The fracture snapped shut.
The stars returned all at once.
Sound flooded back—wind, insects, distant laughter from the village—as if the world had inhaled sharply and released him.
He collapsed forward, breath ragged.
The forest stood upright again.
Normal.
Perfectly ordinary.
As though nothing had happened.
Except—
His right hand burned.
He lifted it slowly.
A mark had carved itself into his palm.
A crown.
Split down the center.
The crack glowed faintly red.
Not bleeding.
Not branded.
Grown.
From beneath the skin.
He stared at it in disbelief.
"I didn't ask for this," he whispered.
The ground answered.
A low, resonant hum beneath the soil.
Not comfort.
Recognition.
Ownership.
High above the world, in places no mortal sky could contain, something vast shifted.
Ancient structures trembled.
Chains forged from forgotten light strained.
A presence stirred and spoke into the dark between realms:
"A vessel survived."
Silence answered.
Then, colder—
"Find him."
Back in Blackroot Forest, Kael rose slowly to his feet.
The mark pulsed once more.
And for the briefest instant—
His shadow did not follow his movement.
It remained still.
Then it tilted its head.
Smiling.
Kael froze.
The forest no longer felt silent.
It felt patient.
Watching.
Waiting.
From deeper within the trees, beyond sight but not beyond presence, golden eyes opened.
Not beast.
Not man.
Old.
Very old.
A voice carried across the distance, soft as falling ash.
"You lived through the fracture."
A pause.
"Interesting."
Kael turned toward the sound.
There was nothing there.
Only darkness between the trunks.
And the certainty—
That whatever had cracked the sky had not meant for him to survive.
The mark in his palm burned brighter.
Far above, something divine began to descend.
And deep below—
Something else began to rise.