POV: Alaric
The world seemed to be forcibly folding in on itself.
Alaric, who had trained his body under artificial gravity pressure for years to become a Guardian Knight, felt his knees tremble. His golden armor, blessed with the Weightlessness enchantment, suddenly felt like boiling lead. He stared ahead, toward the boy standing at the edge of the abyss.
That boy—Elian—did not look human. With a face smeared in wolf blood and eyes completely pitch black, he looked like a fissure in the fabric of reality. When his hand, bearing the black ring, slammed into the ice surface, Alaric heard a sound he had never heard before: the sound of the earth screaming as it was forced to surrender its mass.
"Back! Everyone get back!" Alaric shouted, but his voice was swallowed by a deafening rumble.
The summit of the Shattered Peak began to fracture. Chunks of ice the size of houses were lifted into the air, hovering for a moment as if the laws of gravity were confused about what to do, before crashing into one another.
Alaric drew his sword, radiating Light Aura to create a shield for his men. However, he saw something that froze him in his tracks. His holy light, which usually dispelled darkness, was instead being sucked toward Elian's left hand. The boy wasn't just destroying the mountain; he was devouring the surrounding energy to densify his own body weight.
"What exactly are you...?" Alaric whispered.
He saw Elian look at him. That gaze held no hatred, only a profound emptiness. It was as if to Elian, Alaric and his entire squad were merely dust accidentally stepped upon. A fear Alaric had not felt since he was anointed a Templar Knight now crawled up his spine. This was not a fight against a mage or a demon. This was resistance against something that held a greater claim to this world than anyone else.
Then, the ground beneath Alaric's feet collapsed.
***
POV: Elian
White. Everything has turned to white.
Not snow. But pain so pure it transmuting into light inside my skull. The Blue Poppy extract is burning my nerves, making every heartbeat feel like an explosion inside my brain.
I can feel the ring. It is no longer outside my skin. It feels like it's digging in, trying to replace the bone of my finger. The cold... is so delicious.
I see that golden-armored knight. He looks terrified. Funny. They call this place holy ground, yet they tremble when the ground itself rises to greet them.
I am not falling. I am being pulled.
World... are you angry?
Don't be angry at me. Be angry at those who touched Elara.
Darkness comes. It feels like being hugged by mother. But my mother is dead. Everything is dead.
***
POV: Unknown
On the opposite mountain peak, concealed by blurring magic that surpassed Templar detection, a shadowy figure stood motionless. He held a small mirror reflecting the events at the Shattered Peak.
His face was hidden behind a silver mask featuring only a single eyehole shaped like a teardrop.
"The anomaly is growing increasingly unstable," the shadow's voice sounded like ancient metal grinding together.
"Should we intervene, Elder?" another voice emerged from the shadows behind him. "If he falls into no-man's-land, we will lose his trail. Vane blood is too precious to let disappear into a bottomless abyss."
The figure addressed as Elder shook his head slowly. He watched how Elian destroyed the mountain peak with a single inefficient yet brutal hand movement.
"Let him fall," the Elder said. "The World is protecting him in its own rough way. He is being forged. If he survives this fall, he will become a far sharper weapon for our plans."
He looked at his mirror again, where Elian's figure vanished into the white mist of the abyss along with the ruins of the mountain peak.
"Inform the High Priest at the Empire's center. Project Saintess at Marigold Convent has failed physically, but the seed has been planted. Elara Vane will remain our key at the academy later. Let this brother of hers become the 'Ghost' who will eliminate all disrupting variables out there."
The shadow then vanished into thin air, leaving behind the strange scent of sulfur and wilted flowers.
***
POV: Alaric
Alaric gasped for air, his body buried chest-deep in snow. He had managed to save himself by driving his holy sword into a stable rock wall as the peak collapsed.
He looked up. The summit he had stood on moments ago was gone, leaving a massive gaping hole in the sky. There was no sign of Elian. Only an eerie silence amidst the slowly subsiding snowstorm.
"Sir! Sir Alaric! are you there?!" his subordinates' voices called from below; they sounded panicked and injured.
Alaric didn't answer. He stared down into the chasm that had swallowed Elian. The chasm known as The Abyss of Whispers. No human had returned from there in the last thousand years.
"He... he is dead," whispered one of the knights who managed to crawl up. "With wounds like that, and falling from this height... impossible."
Alaric gripped the hilt of his sword until his gauntlets creaked.
"No," Alaric said. His voice was filled with grim certainty. "He isn't dead. I can feel it. That pressure earlier... that wasn't suicide magic. That was an exit he created himself."
Alaric closed his eyes, recalling Elian's face one last time. A face so beautiful yet carrying such devastation.
"Starting today, inform the central convent," Alaric ordered. "Elian Vane is no longer just a fugitive. He is a 'Walking Disaster.' Put a bounty on his head in every assassin guild. We cannot let the Church handle this alone anymore."
Alaric turned, leaving the shattered peak behind. He knew that from this moment on, his life was bound to that boy. A rivalry born from the dust of ruins, which would lead him to the gates of Sky Haven Academy years from now.
***
POV: Elian
I... am still falling.
Or maybe I am flying?
The weight on my finger no longer pulls down. It pulls in every direction. I feel like I am being torn apart by invisible hands.
My right shoulder... I can't feel it anymore. My nerves have finally gone numb. Good.
In this darkness, I hear whispers.
Many voices. Thousands of voices. They call my name. Not my current name, but a name far older.
I am thirsty.
World... if you truly love me... do not give me light.
Give me darkness enough to hide. Give me the strength to crawl back from this hell.
Elara... wait for me.
Elian's consciousness vanished completely as his body hit something darker than night at the bottom of the abyss.