I open my eyes.

  The world is still here, in a sense—just broken remnants of what used to be a grand battleground. My limbs tremble, skin seared and bloodied from Kael’s final spell. My thoughts are muddled, the collision of memories and corrupted desire still churning in my head. Part of me wants to sob for what we lost, for what I’ve become. But my body moves on its own, guided by the same hunger that sustained me through the battle.

  I turn and see Kael’s body sprawled in the ruins. His breath is gone, the last flicker of his magic extinguished. A jagged sorrow pierces me, a faint echo of the countless centuries we once shared. Yet the void within me growls, far louder than any lingering remorse. I step toward him, extending my hand as darkness ripples across my arm. Tendrils of corruption snake forward, coiling around Kael’s remains.

  One part of me screams to stop—this is my friend, my brother-in-arms, the one I once trusted above all others. But the hunger cares nothing for old loyalties. It devours what’s left of him, memories and flesh dissolving into blackness. When it’s done, there’s no sign Kael ever stood here, no evidence of his final stand but for the hollow ache in my chest.

  I survey the fallen all around me—those who fought for him, those who once might have fought for me. I descend upon them in the same merciless way, feeding until there are no adversaries left, no voices to cry out my name. When it’s over, I’m alone, raw power thrumming in every cell. Yet somehow, I’m still starving.

  My gaze drifts to the Heart of the Cataclysm, thrumming at the core of the shattered Citadel. The swirling chaos beckons, offering me an even greater feast. But I’m not yet strong enough to consume it. So I leave, drifting across the ruins of this plane in search of more power, more essence, to quiet the endless hollow inside me.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The years blur into decades, then centuries. I roam with purpose and unstoppable might. City after city falls beneath my corruption; armies rise only to shatter at my feet. Some people plead, others pray, but all are consumed. Their screams echo for a heartbeat before fading into the void I’ve become.

  At last, there’s nothing left—no kingdoms, no monsters, no hopes or dreams to devour. Only me. The plane is little more than a husk, a hollow expanse of shadow without sky or land. It all looks like me now: an endless black ocean of hunger. I return to the Heart of the Cataclysm, driven by the only impulse I have left. With a single gesture, I crack open its swirling depths and drink deep.

  A rush of unimaginable power rips through me. The void swells until it eclipses all reality. Darkness becomes everything. Silence reigns, unbroken by life or time or thought. I am the void incarnate, the sole presence in this endless nothing.

  Yet in that oblivion, a lone speck of light remains.

  It hovers like a tiny star in the blackness: Lyra’s pendant, the silver eye cracked but stubbornly unbroken. I float above it, an infinite shapeless mass, a fractal storm of emptiness given a will. The pendant does not speak; it does not beg or plead. It merely exists, faintly glowing in defiance of the darkness engulfing all else.

  I could unmake it, banish that last sliver of light. My power dwarfs anything it could ever muster. And yet… I don’t.

  Somewhere in the silent expanse that was once my heart, a single shard of memory persists. A wisp of who I used to be: Eldrin—the mage who sought to save this world rather than end it. That faint ember doesn’t speak, but it stirs just enough to make me pause.

  Beyond that flicker, the void stretches out forever, ravenous and endless.

  The world is gone.

  I am all that remains.

  And the Void is still hungry.