As Arlith turned to follow the Nythari from the chamber, the Starshard pulsed behind her, its golden and violet hues flickering erratically. A whisper—faint yet insistent—seemed to brush against her mind like fingers tracing an old wound.

  She hesitated for only a moment before shaking it off. It was just her imagination. Just nerves.

  But the Starshard disagreed.

  The instant she stepped beyond its presence, the crystal sphere around it darkened, a ripple of shadows slithering through its core. The relic trembled, unseen by those around it as if reacting to her departure. And then, with a final pulse, it surrendered to the will of the one who had once wielded its power.

  Zaryx opened his eyes.

  At first, there was nothing but darkness. A void so complete it pressed against his very being, formless and infinite. It was not fear he felt, nor confusion—only an aching emptiness, a question lingering at the edge of his mind. Who am I?

  Then, a spark twinkled in the very distance.

  It was a glimmer of light—small at first, distant, but that spark was impossible to ignore. It beckoned him forward, a warmth cutting through the endless void. And with that light came something else. Someone else.

  Aeloria.

  The moment Zaryx saw her, something shifted within him. She was radiant, her very presence a balm against the hollow abyss. She turned toward him, and when her golden eyes met his silver eyes, she smiled.

  It was such a simple thing, that smile. Gentle. Understanding. It did not demand, did not force. It is only welcomed. And yet, it unraveled something deep inside him, something he hadn’t known he possessed.

  A heart.

  Time became meaningless as the two shaped existence itself. Together, they sculpted the heavens and the land, the seas and the stars. Aeloria wove life into the world—lush forests, vast oceans, creatures like the First Ones and the Dragons that breathed and thrived. And Zaryx? He gave them their endings. He carved the path of death, not out of cruelty, but necessity. He was balanced.

  But the balance between the two did not last.

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  As the ages passed, Aeloria turned her focus elsewhere. To the mortals that they had created. She watched over them, guided them, and loved them. And Zaryx... he watched her.

  At first, he told himself it would change. That in time, she would return to him, as she always had. After all, they had created the world and the creatures roaming it together. They were bound.

  But the moments he had once shared with her became fleeting, then rare, then nothing at all. While she stood among the living, he remained alone in the quiet company of the dead.

  The realization came slowly, but when it did, it was unbearable.

  He was being left behind. Forgotten by the one he thought loved him.

  At first, the jealousy was a whisper, a shadow creeping through his thoughts. But soon, it became something greater—fear. Fear that he would be forgotten. That he would be cast aside, unneeded, unloved. Fear that the place he had once held in her heart had been taken by those who had no right to it.

  And that fear eventually turned to rage.

  If the mortals had stolen Aeloria from him, then he would take them from her. He would erase them, burn their kingdoms to dust, and drown their lands in darkness. And then, perhaps, she would see. She would understand.

  But his war did not end in victory. It ended in ruin.

  He still remembered the final battle, the moment their blades clashed in the heavens, light, and shadow colliding in a storm that shattered the sky. He remembered the sorrow in her eyes, the desperation in her voice. He remembered the moment their final blows struck, when they fell together—two gods undone by their own hands.

  Yet death had not been an end.

  It had birth to an indefinite cycle. Over and over, the two had returned, destined to fight, to fall, to begin again. And now, once more, Aeloria had been reborn.

  The memory faded. The vision shattered.

  Zaryx stood on his chamber’s balcony, staring at the horizon where the first golden light of dawn began to break. The sky was painted in hues of fire and warmth—Aeloria’s colors.

  His silver eyes darkened.

  The sound of a door opening behind him pulled him from his thoughts. He did not turn, but he felt the presence of his servant approaching, footsteps muffled against the stone.

  “Lord Zaryx,” the voice came, careful, reverent. “We have received word. Aeloria has returned.”

  For a brief moment, the world seemed to stand still.

  Something inside him seized—a jolt of something sharp, something dangerous. His fingers curled at his sides, nails pressing into his palms. His first instinct was disbelief, but disbelief was burned away by something far stronger.

  Hope.

  But then the hope disappeared almost immediately, his heart filled with something he came to welcome all too well—rage.

  He could not afford hope. Hope had betrayed him before.

  Zaryx turned, his dark robes shifting like living shadows, merging with the mist that coiled around his form. His expression was unreadable, his silver eyes now cold and calculating.

  “Send spies,” he commanded, his voice smooth but laced with an undercurrent of steel. “I want to know where she is, who surrounds her, what she remembers.”

  The servant bowed. “Shall we prepare to—”

  Zaryx’s gaze snapped to them, and the words died in the mortal’s throat.

  “Do not harm her.” His voice was softer now, but no less dangerous. “I know you mortals all too well.”

  The servant bowed lower and retreated without another word.

  Silence returned, but Zaryx’s mind was anything but still.

  Aeloria was alive. Alive!

  The thought sent a strange, unwelcome warmth through him. He could almost see her—golden hair catching the light, eyes alight with life, the same smile that had once undone him.

  But another thought soon followed. What if she does not remember him? What if she doesn't remember that the two built this world?

  The warmth died, replaced by something colder. Sharper the shadows swirled around him uncontrollably, as if they were trying to engulf the light around Zaryx.

  He could not lose her. Not again. Not after so many lifetimes of watching her slip through his fingers.

  Stepping closer to the balcony’s edge, Zaryx let his gaze drift over the rising sun. Its light stung against his skin, but he did not look away. Instead, he whispered, as if the wind might carry his words across the world to where she stood.

  “I won’t lose you again.”

  His silver eyes burned with determination.

  “I will find you, Aeloria.”

  And this time… he would not let her go.