The world came back in pieces.
Heat clamped against Alex's skin—too gentle to be real, too unfamiliar to be comfortable. A tent, perhaps. Soft, golden light dripped through light-colored material overhead, dust particles shimmering like slow-moving stars. His lids lifted unwillingly. The scent of herbs and dry starlight and a kind of cinnamon lay on the air.
He couldn't remember getting up.
He couldn't recall the dream, either.
Only a sensation lingered about him—such as cold fingers tracing down his chest. Someone had addressed him. Someone significant. But the words were lost. They disappeared as soon as his eyes opened, leaving a vacuum and a breath of regret.
A gentle chirping shattered the silence.
The Crow sat next to him.
Not savage. Not monstrous. Just tiny, and nearly adorable—its feathers ink-black with sparks of violet, like galaxies contained in down. It cocked its head at him, blinking slowly. Then it hopped forward and pecked softly at his sleeve, as if testing to see if he was actually there.
Alex blinked again.
He wasn't dreaming anymore. He was certain of that. But this—this was more surreal than dreams.
His eyes wandered over the tent. A tall man leaned at the end of the darkness, arms folded, eyes scanning. Varrion. Alex knew him instantly, though his silver armor was tarnished and his face more worn than it had been yesterday. Behind him stood two, perhaps three, silent subordinates, as quiet as statues.
Varrion remained silent.
He didn't have to.
With his silence, Alex saw everything that was lost.
And something more.
Something to be remembered.
The silence hung, thick and heavy, until Varrion finally broke it.
"How are you feeling, Alex?"
His voice was low, almost too quiet, as if he was afraid of waking Alex from some fragile, deep place. He sat motionless, his eyes steady and warm, but there was something in his eyes—something patient, something understanding.
Alex didn't move. His eyes stayed glued to his hands, following the creases of his fingers as if they were not his own. His mind would not calm, a maelstrom of disorder too tangled to understand.
Varrion did not press. He simply allowed the silence to hang for a fraction of a moment longer.
"Caelum…" Varrion whispered, his voice so low it was almost silent. "It's gone."
The words cut through the quiet like a blade, but Alex didn't flinch. He just blinked, staring at nothing in particular, the pain of the truth slowly sinking in like a weight at the bottom of his chest.
"I'm sorry, Alex. Truly."
Alex's eyes flickered for a moment, but no response. Caelum's fall was sorrow he couldn't comprehend. Pieces of the city, of what he had grown up with, were merely forms in his mind—too harsh, too fractured to grasp.
Varrion moved his weight and leaned a little forward. "I wish to take you to Velis Solara. You will be safe there. It's. brighter."
The offer was gentle, almost like an afterthought. As if the brightness of a distant city might somehow erase the shadows that clung to Alex's mind.
But Alex didn't look up. He didn't respond. The thought of leaving—of moving forward when everything behind him had been shattered—felt impossible.
Varrion seemed to understand. He rose slowly, quietly.
"Stay with him," he said, turning to Livia. "I'll inform the others."
The tent seemed colder without him. Livia and the quiet, muffled caw of the crow alone tethered Alex to reality, even as his mind wandered in every possible direction.
As the camp fell into the evening, the final light of the sun streaked the horizon with violet and crimson. The air was chill and fresh, the dying warmth of the day giving way to the night. Varrion emerged from the tent, the crunch of his boots on the frost-softened ground a solitary sound amidst the stillness. The silence was only shattered by the sound of the far-off river, a murmur, and an occasional sigh of the wind rustling through leaves.
In his hand, he clutched the Starlight Relay Crystal, its weak light now burning brighter in the fading light. The crystal hummed softly, as if ready to relay the message it bore. Varrion brought it to his mouth, his voice firm, but the gravity of the words was unmistakable.
"This is Varrion, reporting from the edges of Caelum's Hollow," he started, his voice strong, traveling over the distance even with the gentle buzz of the evening wind.
The crystal throbbed back at him, its illumination twinkling like a tiny star in the increasing night.
"Caelum is no more," Varrion went on, every word a punch in the gut to the memory of the thriving town. "The city's been destroyed. There's nothing left but rubble. It was quick. Accurate. Whoever—whatever—did this, they left no margin for survival."
His breath caught momentarily, but he refused to let his thoughts go that way, pushing the image of the hooded stranger from his mind. The memories were too fresh. He spoke instead with determination, having a sense that what he was about to say would add more significance to the circumstances.
"There was a figure," Varrion mentioned, his voice dropping. "A man, hooded, in dark robes. His presence… it's unmistakable. He's probably the one responsible for the destruction, though I have no further information about him. All I can tell you is that his power, whatever it is, was catastrophic."
Varrion's hold on the crystal grew tighter, but he did not allow his concentration to falter. The mission was critical, and there was no time for hesitation.
"Only one survivor remains. A boy. Alex Veyne. He's ten years old, but he's seen more than any child should. The trauma he's endured is unimaginable." Varrion's voice softened, a hint of empathy seeping through, but he kept his tone level. "I'm bringing him to Velis Solara myself. He'll need protection. Time. He can't stay here."
The crystal shone brighter for an instant, its light pulsating again before fading. Varrion set it down, breathing slowly. The choice had been made. The boy would be taken to Velis Solara. And, with him, the burden of Caelum's fatal fate.
Within the camp....
Alex remained motionless, the gentle rustle of the tent fabric the only noise in the quiet of the evening. The light had faded, leaving long shadows to stretch across the camp. But Alex's eyes were far away, unfocused, gazing through the canvas as if he could see beyond the world itself. His body hurt, but it was the hurting within that took hold of him.
The ache of loss, of Caelum's ruin, was something greater than body. It ate at his soul, drew him under a choking tide. He couldn't help but be engulfed by it. He didn't know how. And in that powerlessness, his mind started to wander, finding refuge in the one place it could—his memories.
The Town's Light.
His earliest distinct memory was of the Lantern Festival, Caelum's streets filled with a warm golden light. It was a night filled with laughter, the air thick with the smell of spicebread and cinnamon, with the sound of children's laughter rising above it. Alex had once been among them, young and carefree. He could see them, those children, their faces all aglow with excitement as they dashed through the streets, their lanterns bobbing like fireflies on the warm night air.
The lanterns.
They were lovely—each one a prayer, a wish. Alex had held one too, like the others. The warm light, soft in his hands, glowed softly as he hugged it close. He had let it go, watching it rise into the air with a feeling of serenity. The night was lovely then. He could feel the light, the warmth of it, again, even now.
He could hear the children's voices. Mira, laughing as she ran after Jakel, teasing him about his flickering gold mark. He could see their smiles, the pink light of Mira's mark shining on her face, and the pale light of Jakel's mark, like the earliest rays of dawn. They had been friends—very close friends. The memories of them were like shards, like pieces of light in the blackness of now.
Then there was Marking Day. The ritual, the thrill of getting a mark that determined who you were. Alex's hand had trembled when he stood before the elders, his heart pounding with excitement. His mark had not glowed then, not yet. But Elias had stood with him, his calm presence a steady influence.
He could almost hear Elias's voice now, soft and steady in his mind: "You're more than any Mark." The words had always stuck with Alex, had always meant something deeper than he understood at the time. But now, in the wreckage of everything, those words felt like a quiet beacon, something to hold onto in the midst of the storm.
The memory changed. His lantern. The one he'd watched bob into the night air with Elias beside him, both of them bathed in the sun. That instant. That glorious, ephemeral instant. The sun on their faces, the world so bright and full of hope. Alex had been so confident then, so sure of what lay ahead.
But that confidence was a specter now, along with all the rest.
The People.
He recalled Mira and Jakel, his friends—his only friends. He had been so certain nothing could ever separate them. He recalled how they had laughed and taunted him at chasing ghosts, and now the words stung, bitter mockery. Their signs had burned bright with determination, each a token of what their future would bring. And now… now there was nothing. Only the biting, quiet emptiness where they had been.
Mira's pink mark. Jakel's gold glowing gently in the blackness.
But they were not there. Gone.
And then Elias—Elias, the one steady thing in his life. Elias, the teller of tales, the father figure who had raised him with a love Alex never believed would be taken away. Elias had always been there, always present, always leading. It felt like a lifetime ago now, the way Elias had comforted him with stories, the way his voice had always carried that hidden meaning. Elias had always known more than he let on, but Alex hadn't realized how deep it went until now.
The words echoed in Alex's mind once more: "You're more than any Mark."
His hand went involuntarily to his chest. He could still sense the residual of that heat, as if an ember that hadn't quite been extinguished.
The Shift.
And then, as a nightmare shattering into his serene recollections, the truth of Caelum's downfall invaded his mind.
The blood—the blood that splattered the cobblestones where children had played. The screams. The smell of smoke and fire. The flames licking the sky, devouring the library where Elias had read his stories. The town, reduced to ashes.
Alex's mind could still picture it, each frame of his memory clearer than the last. The once-beautiful streets, festooned with banners, now dark and devastated. Festival banners converted to funeral shrouds. And in the midst of it all, the library burning—the symbol of knowledge, of everything he'd known, burning in flames.
The screams—they never stopped. They never ceased.
Where were Elias and the others? What had become of them?
The children's faces, their laughter stilled by the scream of fire. The men he had known, the friends he had come up with—all lost. A ruthless, annihilating tide of destruction had swept Caelum, leaving nothing behind.
And in the middle of it, Elias had been there—had to have been. But where was he today?
Alex's breathing grew harder. His chest constricted, and the memories came faster in his mind, like a torrent. Too much. Too much to endure. His heart pounded in his chest, and the pain inside him grew to unsustainable heights.
"Elias."
He spoke the name out loud without realizing. His voice was rough, the sound of it alien in the emptiness. But the name gave him no solace, only more anguish.
A gentle hand on his arm pulled him back from the edge of the memory, and Alex blinked, realizing Livia was sitting beside him now. She had been there, watching him, waiting for him to come back.
She saw the look in his eyes, the quiet torment that he couldn't hide.
"Alex…" Livia said softly, her voice gentle but firm. "It's alright. We'll get through this."
He did not respond. He could not. All he could do was shut his eyes and cling to the shreds of his recollections, to the specters of Caelum, to the whispers of all that he had lost.
Livia remained silent beside Alex, her being a constant point in the turbulence of his mind. Her hand lay lightly upon his arm, a source of heat, yet Alex's eyes remained faraway, caught up in the vortex of his bereavement.
The silence between them was gentle, patient. She didn't ask him for words; she just waited, giving comfort without demanding it.
She finally spoke, her voice soft but firm. "Velis Solara. It's a city of light, of healing. A place where people come to rebuild."
Alex didn't answer, his eyes still unseeing, fixed on nothing in specific. The burden of all that he had lost—the town, the people, the life he knew—seemed too much to bear. But Livia didn't push him. She stayed by his side, her serenity a gentle salve against the turmoil within him.
Finally, after a silence that seemed to last forever, he whispered, "I don't know if I can keep going. Not after this."
Her grip on his arm tightened softly. "You're not alone. You never were."
The Crow chirped, a gentle hush of reassurance, and Alex's eyes darted to it. For the first time, something in his chest relaxed, just a little.
Alex's thoughts spiralled back to the dream. A voice—ethereal, hollow—rang in his mind.
"Find the Fractured Light. The Crow will guide you."
The Crow changed, its eyes shining brighter than ever before, as if it knew.
Livia observed him intently, feeling the change in his face. "What is that?" she asked, her voice full of wonder.
Alex's lips parted, but before he could utter a word, his body jerked violently. The agony washed over him like a tidal wave, and he fell, his eyes going dark.
Livia cried out for assistance, terror tainting her words.
Varrion stumbled into the tent, his face set in an aura of desperation. He knelt down by Alex, rapidly unstoppering a vial of Starlight Elixir and pouring the contents down his throat and reached to its mark.
Alex's body shook, his energy churning uncontrollably, as if something inside him was stirring.
The air thickened, electric with a power Alex couldn't comprehend. He felt himself begin to slide, to tumble further into the depths of his mind, where there was no light—only quiet.
And then, as darkness enveloped him, a voice echoed in his head, unbroken and firm.
"User ALEX VEYNE has completed all requirements."
"Starting THE ECLIPSE PARADOX."
And everything went Black.