The parchment crackled in Serian's hand.
> Retrieve the "Heart of Veyrun" from the Silent Hollow. Return alone. No escort permitted.
A sacred relic.
One sealed beneath the cursed ruins of an ancient battlefield.
Serian narrowed his eyes.
> "They want me dead."
And yet… he accepted the mission.
Not out of loyalty.
Not out of trust.
But to play along—until the time was right.
---
Into the Hollow
The Hollow was worse than he imagined.
Dead trees bled black sap.
Whispers filled the air.
Shadows twisted behind every rock.
Serian pressed forward, light magic swirling gently around his body to shield him.
But he wasn't alone.
Far above him, cloaked in silver mist, an assassin followed.
Her name: Kira.
The Council's blade.
Chosen not just for skill—but for doubt.
> "If he's fallen… I'll be the one to end him."
---
The Heart of Veyrun
Deep beneath the ruins, Serian reached a circular chamber.
There it floated—a crystal pulsing with ancient magic, chained to the bones of the dead.
As his fingers neared the Heart, spirits burst from the walls—twisted souls bound to the relic.
> "You are not worthy!" they shrieked.
Serian didn't flinch.
He released his light—
Not in beams—
But in words.
> "I am not here to own you. I am here to understand."
The spirits hesitated.
And for a moment… the Heart pulsed warmly.
But then—
---
The Blade Behind Him
A whisper.
A blade.
Kira lunged.
> "Forgive me, Hero."
But Serian spun, sword drawn, parrying the strike by instinct.
Blades clashed. Magic flared.
> "You're early," he said, voice cold.
> "You're dangerous," she spat. "The Council was right."
Their duel echoed in the cavern.
But even as she fought, Kira noticed something.
He didn't try to kill her.
Not even once.
---
Truth in the Fight
Finally, Kira fell to her knees, panting.
Serian stood over her, not victorious—just tired.
> "They lied to you. I'm not the one who changed."
> "Then who?" she asked.
Serian looked up, eyes glowing faintly.
> "The one who made us both weapons."
---
Back in the shadows of the Council, a seer's mirror cracked.
And far away in the Black Citadel… the Demon Lord felt something burn in his chest.
A shared memory.
A shared pain.
The clones were beginning to break.
---