The remnants of the Illusion Beast dissolved into harmless wisps, scattering like breath in winter beneath the fractured glow of the eclipsed sky.
The central square of Aetheris lay broken.
Cobblestones glistened slick with blood, reflecting impossible starlight. Bodies lay where terror had claimed them—limbs twisted, eyes frozen wide, mouths caught mid-scream. The air reeked of copper and ash, laced with the fading heat of Sera Voss's flames. Where screams had once ruled, only whimpers remained, swallowed by an uneasy silence punctuated by the groan of settling stone.
At the square's heart stood Luan Yue.
Untouched—not merely by injury, but by disarray. Silver hair caught the false light like spun moon-thread. His pale eyes drifted across the devastation with tranquil detachment, as though surveying a completed painting. A thin line of blood traced down his cheek from the corner of his eye, already drying, unacknowledged. His robes—elegant even in ruin—hung loose upon his slender frame, dusted with ash and the remnants of eclipsed lives.
Sera Voss slid her sword into its sheath with a sharp hiss. The flames guttered out like dying embers.
She was breathing hard. Sweat glistened on her scarred face, the old burn pulling tight at her cheek as her armor creaked with every step toward Luan. Her dark eyes narrowed.
"You're not even breathing hard," she said, voice rough as broken stone. "That thing nearly tore the square apart, and you just… waved your hand and made it forget how to exist." Her lip curled. "Are you enjoying this?"
Luan turned slowly.
His expression remained calm. Almost kind.
"Enjoyment," he said softly, voice smooth with the cadence of old nobility, "is an illusion. As fleeting as the light we lost today." His gaze drifted toward the shattered sky. "I merely see reflections for what they are—lies we tell ourselves to endure truth. The Domain only makes them tangible."
Sera stared at him, then barked a short, humorless laugh.
"Philosophy from a pretty noble boy in the middle of hell. That's rich." She reignited her blade with a snap of flame. "Keep your truths. I'd rather burn the lies."
The square rippled.
Puddles of starlight shimmered—unnatural mirrors beneath the eclipse. Cracked cobblestones gleamed with something dark beneath their surface. Shattered glass from overturned carts and broken facades began to reflect not the ruined square, but warped horrors: faces twisted in agony, hands pressing against invisible barriers.
Then the reflections broke.
Illusions spilled forth like ink bleeding into water.
A woman rose from a bloodied puddle, mouth open in a silent scream as phantom water filled her lungs. She clawed toward a nearby survivor, desperation etched into every movement. From a shard of mirror, a child's blood-smeared hand pounded soundlessly. Pools of starlight flickered with burning homes, with lovers accusing, with secrets whispered only to those who feared them most.
A merchant froze as the illusion of his drowned daughter materialized before him.
Her small hands closed around his throat.
He gasped—denial feeding the vision as it grew solid.
"They're everywhere!" someone screamed.
Sera charged.
Her sword erupted into flame as she carved through reaching shadows. "Fight them! Don't look—burn them out!"
But the illusions did not strike with strength.
They invaded.
Victims froze, trapped within memories they had buried, allowing shadow tendrils to coil around limbs and drain the will to resist. A woman collapsed, clutching a phantom child ablaze, her skin blistering beneath imagined heat.
Luan moved.
His steps were precise, economical. Moonlight gathered at his fingertips, shaping into a faint crescent glow.
"Eclipse."
Reality shuddered.
Shadow tendrils lunging toward a huddled family simply… stopped. One moment they hovered inches from flesh. The next, they had never advanced at all—unraveling into nothing.
The family gasped, untouched.
The cost came immediately.
Cold seeped deeper into Luan's core, frost creeping across something vital. The square dulled—colors fading, sounds muffling. Gratitude reached him as if from another life, distant and unreal.
Sera glanced his way mid-swing, flames tearing through an illusion of a charred brother reaching for her in accusation. Pain flickered across her face before she banished it with a snarl.
More illusions surged.
Wave after wave poured from reflections, spawning faster, thicker, smarter. The remaining survivors—no more than two dozen—clustered instinctively around the two Awakened.
Through the chaos ran a girl no older than thirteen.
Her hands glowed with gentle gold as she knelt beside a wounded man, pressing her palms to a gash torn by falling stone.
"Stay still," she whispered, voice shaking but resolute. "It'll close. It has to."
Light spread. Flesh knitted.
Nearby, a broad-shouldered man in the remnants of a city guard's uniform wielded a spear fashioned from a broken banner pole. He impaled a shadow dragging a child away and held the line with a roar.
"Form up! Protect the wounded!"
Luan eclipsed another cluster—tendrils reaching for the girl and her patient. They unraveled mid-reach.
The girl looked up at him, wide-eyed.
"You made them disappear," she breathed. "Like they were never real."
"Possibilities negated," Luan replied, inclining his head. "You heal. Your name?"
"Mira," she said. "Mira Lin. I don't know how—I just—when the sky broke…"
The guard nodded curt thanks. "Toren Vale. Former city watch." His gaze lingered on Luan. "Noble powers tend to rot."
"Not power," Luan said evenly. "Negotiation."
The first wave receded.
Illusions withdrew into cracks and puddles like a retreating tide. Survivors huddled closer, awe and fear warring in their stares. Mira moved among them, her light fragile but defiant. Toren barked orders, forming a perimeter with practiced instinct.
Sera pulled Luan aside.
"That power's eating you," she said low. "I saw it. The blood before. Now this—you're colder. Like the eclipse crawled inside."
Luan met her gaze. "Every eclipse demands balance. A possibility denied requires something yielded." His voice softened. "Warmth is… expendable."
"Expendable?" She scoffed. "You're turning hollow."
"Perhaps," he said quietly. "But hollowness endures."
The reflections stirred again.
This time, they coordinated.
A massive swarm erupted from every surface at once—thicker, faster, whispering tailored torments. One man walked calmly into a phantom of his failures and withered into a husk within seconds.
"They're learning!" Toren shouted.
Sera charged, fire roaring.
Luan stepped forward.
Moonlight flared brighter.
"Eclipse."
The word struck deeper.
Reality warped in a wide ripple. The swarm faltered—then unraveled entirely, their advance erased from possibility itself.
The cost hit hard.
A profound cold crushed Luan's chest. Emotion dulled further. The world felt distant, fragile. He swayed.
Mira rushed to him, glowing hands raised. "You're hurt—let me—"
"No," Luan said gently. "Some wounds are not flesh."
Toren clapped his shoulder. "You saved us. Twice. If you're leading… I'm in."
Mira smiled, eyes shining. "Your light—it feels like the moon came down to help."
Sera sheathed her sword, studying Luan with new wariness—and something softer. "Looks like you've got followers, Pale One."
Then the square groaned.
Stone cracked.
At its edge, a cathedral spire—ancient and fractured—tilted. Masonry gave way. The structure began to collapse toward the survivors.
Dust filled the air.
Screams rose.
Sera's eyes widened. "It's coming down—on us!"
Luan looked up.
He felt the cost waiting.
The square held its breath.