Fevered from a wound, Arin dreamt of the Nexus—a pulsating star crossed by chains. Saren stood there, reforging the chains into a crown. "You'll join me, Wayfarer," he hissed. "Or burn with the rest."
The fever had come suddenly, a cruel aftershock of the battle. Arin's body burned as if the Nexus Shard itself had ignited within him, its power struggling against the corruption lingering in his scar—a mark left by the assassin's dagger during the ambush. The group had made camp in a sheltered alcove beneath an overhanging cliff, but even here, the mountain's chill seemed to seep into their bones.
Pyx sat nearby, her freckles dimmed to almost nothing as she watched over him with quiet worry. Kairo and Liora worked tirelessly to stabilize his condition, their combined Qi creating a cocoon of healing energy that flickered like dying embers.
But none of it reached Arin's mind, which had plunged into a dreamscape so vivid it felt more real than waking life.
The Nexus appeared before him—a pulsating star suspended in infinite darkness, its light both beautiful and terrifying. Chains wrapped around it in intricate patterns, their links forged from shimmering metal that seemed alive, shifting and writhing as if resisting their purpose. The chains stretched outward into the void, tethering realities together like anchors holding back an unstoppable tide.
At the center of it all stood Saren.
He was radiant and terrible, his form a fusion of light and shadow that defied comprehension. His face was sharp and angular, his eyes burning with an intensity that seemed to pierce through Arin's very soul. In his hands, he held fragments of the chains—pieces he was reforging into something new.
A crown.
"You'll join me, Wayfarer," Saren hissed, his voice echoing across dimensions. "Or burn with the rest."
Arin tried to move, tried to speak, but his body refused to obey. He was frozen in place, forced to watch as Saren continued his work. Each link he reforged into the crown emitted a pulse of energy that rippled outward, distorting the fabric of reality itself.
"This is what they fear," Saren continued, his tone both seductive and mocking. "Not destruction, but transformation. The Nexus is alive—it breathes chaos and order alike. And I will shape it into perfection."
"You're destroying everything," Arin managed to whisper, his voice barely audible against the roar of cosmic forces swirling around them.
"Am I?" Saren countered with a cruel smile. "Or am I saving it from mediocrity? The Celestials were cowards—they saw potential and recoiled in fear. But you… you were made for this."
He stepped closer, the crown now fully formed in his hands. Its jagged edges glowed with power so immense it seemed to warp space around it.
"Take your place beside me," Saren urged, extending the crown toward Arin. "Together, we will rewrite existence itself."
Arin's scar burned fiercely as he struggled against the pull of Saren's words. The medallion and Nexus Shard flared within him, their combined presence anchoring him against the tide of corruption threatening to consume him.
"I'll never join you," Arin spat, finding strength in defiance.
Saren's smile faded into cold disdain. "Then you will burn."
With a gesture that seemed to shatter stars themselves, Saren unleashed a wave of energy that surged toward Arin like a tidal wave of fire and shadow.
Arin awoke screaming.
The sound tore through the camp like a physical force, jolting everyone awake and sending Pyx scrambling to his side.
"Arin!" she cried, her freckles flaring back to life as she gripped his shoulders. "What happened? Are you—"
Her words cut off as she noticed his scar glowing faintly beneath his clothing—a sickly red light that pulsed in time with his ragged breaths.
Kairo and Liora rushed over, their expressions grim as they examined him. The healing cocoon they had created flickered weakly now, unable to contain whatever force had taken hold within him.
"It's spreading," Kairo murmured as he traced patterns in the air above Arin's scar. "The Void energy from that dagger—it's trying to take root."
"I saw him," Arin gasped between breaths. "Saren… at the Nexus… forging chains into a crown."
The words sent a ripple of unease through the group. Even Lysander—normally composed beyond measure—looked unsettled by the mention of Saren's name.
"What did he say?" Liora asked urgently, her braids glowing faintly as she channeled calming energy into Arin's trembling form.
"He said I'd join him," Arin replied hoarsely. "Or burn with everyone else."
Before anyone could respond further, the Fourth Key—the shard gifted by the shrine—hovered above Arin's chest. Its crystalline surface pulsed with golden light as it projected an intricate map onto the snow-covered ground beside them.
The map depicted not just their current location but also three glowing points scattered across Elysion—each marked with symbols identical to those on the medallion and Nexus Shard.
"The Temple's location," Pyx whispered in awe as she traced one glowing point with her finger. "And… three other keys?"
"It's showing us where they are," Liora realized aloud. "The remaining fragments."
But it was more than just a map—it was alive in its own way, its patterns shifting subtly as if responding to their presence. And at its center lay an image of the Nexus itself—a pulsating star crossed by chains identical to those Arin had seen in his vision.
"The Temple isn't our end," Arin murmured as realization dawned upon him. "It's a stepping stone."
"To what?" Kairo asked quietly.
"To the Nexus," Arin replied firmly. His voice carried new resolve despite his weakened state. "It's alive—and everything we've done so far has been leading us back to it."
The weight of those words settled over them like another layer of snow—heavy but undeniable.
As they stared at the map projected by the Fourth Key, each member of their group felt the gravity of what lay ahead—not just for themselves but for all realities woven into the cosmic tapestry.
And somewhere beyond perception, in a chamber where fate itself took physical form, the Oracle of Fate watched as golden threads continued their journey toward convergence—a pattern forming that defied even its ancient foresight.
The die was cast; the path revealed.