Leiruat’s figure hovered effortlessly above the bustling town, levitating in slow, sweeping motions as her luminous eyes flickered across the citizens below.
From her elevated position, she observed the townspeople moving with uncanny synchronicity—each person imrsed in their tasks, hands repeating motions with eerie precision, as if their actions were drilled into muscle mory a thousand tis over.
A group of young n, muscular and silent, carried enormous chunks of boulders across the street, delivering them to a nearby construction site where others waited with tools in hand.
There, hamrs rose and fell rhythmically, chiseling stone into ornate vases or intricate architectural designs. But it wasn’t the artistry that unsettled Leiruat—it was the indifference.
When a hamr missed its mark and struck flesh, causing blood to splatter or bones to crack, there was no cry of pain, no reaction. The wounded simply continued their task, as though their injuries were no more significant than a smudge of dirt.
Leiruat’s brows drew together in a sharp frown. Her eyes narrowed, her unease growing by the second. ’This doesn’t seem normal,’ she thought grimly, drifting deeper into the town.
She passed into another district, hoping for contrast—but found none. The people here wore different clothes, perford different duties, but their expressions were just as vacant. Their eyes were hollow, their movents chanical.
A chilling wind curled around her as a sense of dread clutched her spine. ’Nothing like this happened in the previous tiline,’ her gaze flickered with uncertainty. ’What the hell happened here?’
Without another thought, her figure blurred, vanishing in a blink. She rocketed through the air toward the looming castle in the distance, but even then, her sharp gaze continued to scan the ground.
That was when she saw it—sothing that stood out from the endless monotony. In a shadowed alleyway, an innocent-looking young woman was cornering two middle-aged n.
The woman’s face bore the sa blankness as the others, her eyes hollow, soulless. But the n—there was clarity in their eyes. Fear, defiance, desperation.
The woman’s voice was like ice. "Why are you trying to hide? Stop struggling and accept the great Lord," she whispered, her tone dipping even lower. "Just like everyone else."
The older of the two n stepped forward, trembling but resolute. "Your Lord is a wretched abomination! He’s turned people into lifeless puppets! He must be stopped."
The other joined him, voice thick with grief. "Child, please. Open your eyes. That being you worship—he’s no savior."
Hovering silently above them, Leiruat’s form shimred, her expression unreadable. ’Let’s see how this plays out. Maybe I’ll learn sothing valuable.’ Her tone was cold, analytical.
Saving them hadn’t crossed her mind. What did she owe them? Their courage, while admirable, was irrelevant to her.
Even if she did save them, the most they could provide was information which would biased according to their perspective. She was much better off just seeing the whole thing happen right in front of her eye.
The woman laughed—a sound too cheerful for the mont. "You’re naive. Rejecting the Supre Being only delays the inevitable. But no matter. You’ll submit soon enough."
As she spoke, her body began to shift grotesquely. Darkness poured from her skin, writhing like a monstrous creature freed from a cage. It enveloped the two n within monts, forming a sphere so dense and black that even light itself seed repelled by its presence.
Leiruat’s eyes widened, her breath catching. ’No... it can’t be.’
Unlike ordinary beings, she could see what transpired inside the sphere. She saw the mont the two n were swallowed whole. She saw the thousands of eyes open within the void—hungry, watching. She watched as the n’s bodies disintegrated, erased as though they never existed. And then... she saw sothing worse.
The darkness pulsed. Then, from its depths, two new figures erged. Identical in shape and form to the fallen n, but subtly wrong. Their skin flawless, their eyes empty, their vitality corrupted. Thralls.
Leiruat’s fingers curled into trembling fists. Her voice trembled in her mind. ’Corruption. Such authority over darkness. It’s him. Ness.’
There was only one god who could command darkness so absolutely—Ness, the beloved deity of darkness. But this... this wasn’t the Ness she rembered.
He had always been noble, gentle, revered by mortals and gods alike. His powers were vast, but his heart had been kind. He was the last one she ever thought could fall.
’Iyra married him... she trusted him... How could this happen?’
With the realization hamring her chest like a war drum, she bolted toward the castle, her form becoming a cot streaking across the sky. She moved so quickly the air cracked behind her.
When she arrived, she hovered silently before the gates of the grand citadel, staring at its massive doors. Her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths. ’I’m going to et a god. A corrupted one, at that.’
Her instincts scread at her to run. To turn away. But curiosity and duty warred against fear. ’Corruption spreads in uncanny ways... but I must know.’
She phased through the castle walls like mist, gliding silently through ornate halls and towering corridors. Along the way, she caught glimpses of the castle’s staff.
Familiar faces—Olie, Bess, and Laura—clustered together, clearly distressed. She noticed them arguing, all three of them distressed, with Laura at the center of their ire.
Leiruat’s curiosity was piqued, but she didn’t stop. There was no ti for detours.
After combing the castle, she finally found the chamber. Her breath caught. ’Einar’s chamber... or should I say, Ness.’
She pressed a hand to the wall and phased through, entering the dim room.
And there he was.
A young man sat calmly at a desk, raven-black hair cascading over his shoulders, and scarlet eyes glowing faintly in the low light. His presence was suffocating. Beautiful, magnetic, dangerous.
"Einar," she breathed. The na felt strange in her mouth.
Then, as if hearing her silent utterance, his head snapped toward her. Their eyes locked. A slow smirk stretched across his face.
"Welco," he said smoothly. "Miss...?"
Leiruat froze. Her mind reeled. ’Why... why did it feel like he was expecting ?’
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