After the Void vanished, the village remained silent for a long time.
Doors did not close, yet no one felt at ease. Everyone was still there, but nothing was truly where it belonged anymore. It was as if the world had paused for a brief moment—then resumed, out of rhythm.
Zeythara stood before the symbol carved into the stones.
The circle and the broken line cutting through it were still there. But it was no longer just a symbol. It felt like the scar of a decision.
The burning at her fingertips had not faded.
Kaelric approached quietly.
"This is their doing," he said. "The Voids."
Zeythara shook her head.
"No. This… is ours."
Kaelric hesitated.
"What do you mean?"
Zeythara straightened, her shoulders firm.
"Zeus was the one who sent us to this universe," she said. "We always knew that. But we never fully understood why."
The sky grew heavy. The clouds did not move, did not rotate—just hung there, suspended.
"Zeus," Zeythara continued, "was exiled. Cast into this universe. Removed from the order."
Kaelric's expression darkened.
"And we…"
"Are the continuation of his mistake," Zeythara said. "Or its consequence."
The symbol trembled faintly.
The air tore—not into a portal, not into a rift, but as if existence itself had pulled back. Light fled. Sound dulled. And they emerged.
The Voids.
This time, they were not alone.
Three figures appeared at the edge of the village. Neither fully human nor entirely shadow. They had faces, yet none were fixed; each glance revealed a different possibility struggling to exist within the same form.
Villagers fell to their knees—not from fear, but because their bodies obeyed before their minds could decide otherwise.
One of the figures spoke.
Its voice was not wind, nor thunder.
It settled directly inside the mind.
"The balance has been broken."
Zeythara stepped forward.
"We did not begin this."
"No," the figure replied.
"You completed it."
Kaelric drew his sword.
"Zeus was the one who sent us here."
The second figure turned toward him.
"We know."
The third spoke:
"Zeus opened a forbidden passage. He pierced the balance between universes. His punishment was exile."
Zeythara's gaze hardened.
"And I killed him."
A brief silence followed.
Then all the Voids spoke as one:
"That is the problem."
A cold weight settled in Zeythara's chest.
"Zeus's punishment was never fulfilled," the first said.
"His death did not restore the balance."
"A sentence was left unfinished," the second added.
"And the universe does not tolerate unfinished things."
Kaelric stepped forward.
"What do you want?"
The third answered:
"A price."
Zeythara narrowed her eyes.
"From whom?"
The shadows of the Voids stretched.
"Someone," they said.
"Either this universe collapses…
or the crime that brought you here is completed."
Zeythara's voice dropped.
"You want me to take Zeus's place?"
"No," they replied.
"Not to replace him."
They paused.
Then the word came.
"To bear his punishment."
Kaelric's hand trembled.
"That isn't fair."
The Voids inclined their heads in unison.
"We are not concerned with fairness," they said.
"We are concerned with balance."
The sky darkened completely for a moment.
Zeythara drew a slow breath. Pieces aligned within her—Zeus's words, the exile, the loss of power, this universe. All links in the same chain.
"You are threatening us," she said calmly.
"No," they replied.
"We are warning you."
The symbol flared once more.
This time, it did not burn.
It weighed.
"The choice approaches, Zeythara," they said.
"And this time… there will be no escape."
Then they withdrew.
But they did not fully leave.
The Void closed, the village became visible again—but everyone knew:
They were no longer being watched.
They were being calculated.
Kaelric exhaled slowly.
"Zeus cast us here," he said. "And now we're meant to pay for his crime?"
Zeythara looked up at the sky.
"No," she said.
"This time… it will be our decision."
And for the first time, the symbol answered her.