Year 1: The High Before the Fall
On a blood-ridden battlefield, a single man sits upon the corpse of one of these creatures, blade of creation in hand.
He stands up and swings his sword through the air, stopping just shy of the ground to get the excess blood off of his blade. He drops one of his gloves, which is burning and torn from corrosive saliva; his eyes are dead like the void, and his heart is beating calmly as if he were just on a stroll. Death was as normal as life to him now.
He stares into the abyss of the sky, with it staring back with the stars as countless eyes on him, each one with the weight of every soul he's ever failed, with the brightest stars representing four of his closest friends. He can remember it like yesterday; even as the months pass, he holds onto the memory, as it's the last thing he has left.
The sound of his name echoes through his head.
Comet… Comet… “COMET!”
“Comet!”
Comet lies in his bed without the will to move, yet he still is being summoned to Violet’s office. He gets out of bed and stares into the ground, looking around the room.
Comet looks at a bed beside him, clean as if it's never been touched, which disappoints him, as Malice hasn't left the training room for the past few days, even for sleep. He drags himself out of bed and presses a button beside his bed to inform Violet that he's coming.
Comet walks through the halls, each step like a burden on his soul, a reminder that he's here while… she… isn’t.
He walks past the training room, seeing Malice covered in blood and injuries, but still fighting as if his life were on the line. Like him, he still doesn’t forgive himself for what happened that day. Comet doesn’t know what he is training for, as the chances of that happening again are slim, and she's already… gone, but he doesn’t have the strength to talk to him, as he cannot even confront himself.
After a few more minutes of walking, he enters a room with Violet and an unfamiliar golden man. He shines with a warmth that reminds him only of his father, his voice gentle as if not to shatter everything around him.
He says, “You must be Comet?”
Something in his voice tells him he already knew.
“Yes, sir,” Comet responds. Talking surprises even himself, as his voice has deepened; he never thought about it, but he hasn’t truly spoken for days.
Violet is the next to speak. “Comet, I am aware that these past few days have been difficult on you, but Mr. Gold here has come to me with an offer. I’ve already accepted his terms, so it all weighs on you; after all, it is your fate.”
An… offer? What could she mean? Comet thought to himself. It doesn’t matter much anyway; there isn’t anything he could do to help—he stops in his thoughts.
Gold… that name reminds me of something… but what?
“I am Gold, the oldest godchild, your father’s older brother.”
That’s why. Comet vividly remembers Red mentioning his siblings; he thought very highly of Gold most of all. After meeting him face-to-face, he can see why.
“I’ve been informed of what has happened to you. To your colleague. Which is why I’m here to offer a solution.”
Comet is insulted at the thought of it; you can’t simply just fix a problem like this. Of course, he would never say it out loud, but the look must’ve been plastered all over his face because he could see Gold’s face contort in a bit of remorse.
“Look, that came out a bit wrong. I know death isn’t something easily fixed, but I can help you become something better. I can help you be stronger.”
“Give it to Malice. He’d love to take a shot at whatever you’re offering, but just leave me alone.”
The silence in the room was gripping, like speaking was suddenly taboo, and of course the godchild broke it.
“I can see his fire in your eyes.”
“What?”
“He’s already made his impact on more than you think. From your mannerisms to even the way you act.”
“Father?”
“Of course, but you already knew that, huh?”
“...”
“I’m not asking you to be like Red; I’m asking you to light the fire he planted in you because his influence doesn’t die out; he’s the eternal luminary for a reason.”
“If I do this… just promise me that it will work. I can’t go through… that again.”
“You have my very word.”
“. . . Alright. What did you have in mind?”
Gold smiles as he talks of a pocket dimension where Comet will spend months learning a powerful technique called Shine. He's not sure about what it does, but he does know that if the rumors are true, Comet will wield its power even better than Gold can.
Comet couldn’t imagine being able to do anything better than a godchild, let alone the strongest of them all. But if he could take even a bit of his words to be the truth, then maybe, just maybe, he’ll be able to finally numb the pain of her memory… even if just a little bit.
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Year 1: The Void
Comet has been in a void for months; he's been pushing his body, mind, and soul to its limits. He feels at any moment he might break, but he knows he won’t.
The one thing that's keeping him together is the light on the other end of this tragedy-ridden tunnel. With every blow, every time his soul and body strain, and the emptiness of the void echoes through his body as he meditates. He feels himself gain strength.
It’s all overwhelming yet underwhelming at the same time, but that’s the point. This was never supposed to be easy, and he knew it.
He's on his last test against the very power itself to prove his worth. He can feel it coming; how could he not? The energy rushing at him was like a signal—no, a warning. Either way, he knows this one interaction will determine months of training.
He steadied himself, rising slowly to his feet. His stance shifted into that of a warrior prepared for death or victory—knees bent, shoulders loose, breath controlled. His eyes closed, shutting out the chaos before him. He didn’t need them. The void around him spoke louder than sight ever could. He felt it in the air, in the vibrations through the ground, and in the faint crackle of energy licking at the edges of reality.
Then—it came. An attack that could not be measured by seconds or minutes. It was beyond time, a strike born of pure intent. Comet’s body moved before thought could form, his subconscious guiding him, snapping him out of the path with precision so sharp it felt almost divine.
Every move, every shift, every breath... it’s all there. I just need to stop thinking. Let it flow.
He reminded himself of what he’d learned: the subconscious was always aware—aware of the flea hovering nearby, of the twitch of dust in the wind, of the faint pulse of danger before it even bloomed. It carried the answers to survival. But thought—thought was hesitation, the chain that slowed the blade. And hesitation meant death.
So he let go.
His fist snapped forward, striking the entity in the chest with a blow so quick it was almost unseen. The energy rippled out across its body, dispersing in controlled fractures. He followed instantly, every strike placed with intent—rapid, sharp blows, scattering its energy along different points so it could not focus its strength to retaliate. Then, with its defenses momentarily stretched thin, he shifted his weight and went for its head—one of the few weak points.
The entity reacted instantly. Energy surged, rushing to protect its skull.
Comet smirked through the sweat on his face. Predictable.
Instead of following through, he struck the shoulder with brutal force, twisting his palm into its joint to numb the energy channels there. His other hand shot low and forward, slamming into its gut—a spot it hadn’t reinforced. The thing reeled, its form warping under the sudden imbalance.
But it was far from inexperienced. Before Comet could capitalize, its arm swung down with monstrous speed, driving a counterstrike deep into his abdomen. Pain burst through his gut as the air was forced out of his lungs.
He staggered but planted his feet, snarling through clenched teeth. “That’s all you got?!”
His knuckles cracked as he shot forward again, refusing to yield. Fist met fist, knee met knee, and elbow smashed against elbow. The fight devolved into a furious storm of traded blows, each one rattling the surrounding air. The stalemate dragged on, seconds stretching into eternities, neither willing to give an inch.
Finally, they broke apart, both breathing heavily, both weary of the repetition. Comet jumped back, chest heavy, sweat streaking his jaw. That’s when he felt it.
Something was wrong. His eyes darted down—and his blood ran cold.
An energy needle pierced his leg clean through. More than that—he could feel them now, dozens of thin, burning points embedded across his body. His arms, his back, his sides. Needles he had never even noticed, their presence cloaked beneath the frenzy of combat.
“No… how—how could I have missed this?!” His voice cracked with both rage and disbelief. He staggered, trying to pull free, but the truth settled in like ice. They weren’t meant to kill him outright. They were meant to weaken him—drain him.
He barely had time to clench his teeth before a searing force ripped through him. The needles tore themselves free all at once, dragging streams of his energy with them. His body shuddered violently, the strength leaving his limbs in torrents. He dropped to one knee, his vision flickering at the edges.
“No… not yet… I’m not done!” he roared, his voice cracking with desperation as he forced himself upright, fists trembling, body screaming for him to stop. He launched forward, trying to throw one last punch—anything to turn the tide.
But the entity was faster. Its strike landed flush against his chest, a blow like thunder that knocked the breath out of him. Before he could recover, a sharp chop crashed into his throat. His body convulsed as he gagged for air, tumbling backwards onto the ground, clutching at his neck.
Gasping, his vision blurred, Comet saw the shadow loom over him. The being stepped closer, its form blotting out what little light remained. It knelt, one arm pressing heavily against his neck, pinning him to the ground. Energy hummed, a beam forming at its palm—angled just above his face, ready to end him.
Comet’s eyes, wide with pain, narrowed into defiance. Even as his chest heaved, even as the beam grew brighter, he rasped through his broken breath:
“You’ll… have to try harder… than that… to put me down.”
Comet stares back with an intent he's never had before—the intent to kill.
Comet was willing to do anything to ensure he gets out of this situation victorious. The determination in his eyes said volumes more than any fight could, as suddenly the void speaks:
“You are worthy.”
Comet, naturally confused as he doesn’t get how he could be deemed victorious in a fight he hasn’t won, tries to demand questions, but the entity disappears as the void starts to pour into his soul.
“You are now more than yourself but less than what you could be, for this is the beginning of your LEGACY.”
Comet awakens confused and dazed in a hospital bed… or what remains of one.
As he looks around, he sees what seems to be the ruins of the Time Council.
It's happened again.
Comet rushed through the ruined halls to see Malice rushing after… after… he paused, unable to accept what he was seeing.
Crucible.
Here, again.
Suddenly he snapped back into action, truly processing what he was seeing. Crucible had this hell-bound smile, floating into a portal as Malice jumped in after him with tear-filled eyes.
Comet tried to yell out for Malice, but he was blinded by what seemed to be rage. And due to Comet's hesitation, he was too late, as the portal closed with Malice inside of it.
Leaving the poor child to wonder, “What happened. . . ?”
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Year 1: The Herald
A day after the disappearance of Comet, he was still held up in the training room.
Malice struck the last training bot after four days of nonstop training at his body's maximum; his soul was under an immense amount of strain with every step. Even so, he pushed on. Every time his eyes closed, he was taken back to that moment—and he decided whatever fate waited for him here was better than another second there.
As Malice threw one last punch at the broken training bot, his fist weighed with a weight heavier than the stars, the training bot faded as he fell to one knee. He was confused; he didn’t order them to stop.
“You will eventually break yourself doing this. Actually, from the looks of it, you’re already broken.”
He knew that voice. He gave a side-eye to confirm his suspicions, and he saw Violet standing there. Malice tried to speak, but she cut him off. It wasn’t like anything but a sad groan would come out anyway. He had lost the ability to talk properly for about a day now.
“You’re still in denial. The first stage of grief.”
“...”
“You cannot run from her forever.”
Malice looked away, not in anger but in shame. He knew if Lunar was here, she would annoyingly scold him—but she wasn’t here.
“Comet’s left.”
Malice turned back in confusion.
“He’s finally gotten out of his rut and is willing to do everything in his power to better himself.”
Malice, unable to see the point of this, tried to stand up to walk away from her but couldn’t bring himself to move his knees under his body weight. He knew if he tried, he would collapse, and he didn’t need her carrying him.
“You remind me a lot of myself. Headstrong, silent, always carrying the weight of the world on our shoulders even when there's no true reason to. I guess we both know where we got it from. Well, of course not the silence; he's far too talkative."
Malice took a second to pause. He knew she was referring to Red, but in all the commotion he’d forgotten about his teachings.
“There’s something Father would always say. For every bad deed there is a liberator who will free his people, a leader who will bring them to glory, the warriors who will fight for the glory, and the people who represent everything they stand for. But for every one of them, there is a child born who will lay his life down to kick things into motion, whether it is the people's collective voices, the leader’s will, the warriors' spirits, or the liberator’s ideals. That one person will be sacrificed to history for a better future. So even with the greatest loss…”
“There is always hope.”
Malice finished with his throat aching just from talking, but he had to say it.
Violet smiled and wiped his tears. “I guess he told you about it.”
Malice didn’t notice he was crying until she wiped the tears from his face. The memory of Red had unlocked a pain he had buried so deep in his soul—the pain of failing the one man he idolized by allowing her death.
“I know what burdens you. I truly do. But if we are to ever move forward, we must hold onto hope… not pain.”
At this point, Malice was fully crying into her arms. He had not allowed himself to feel by running from everything, but when someone had finally slowed him down, it all came crashing down on him at once. It felt good, as if he could finally breathe after a long time of suffocation.
Violet had promised to train him herself, and under the watchful eye of the Time Council, Malice had grown to understand and control his destructive abilities—even being able to use them with temporal energy.
Everything was going good… too good.
So it wasn’t as surprising as it should’ve been when it all came crashing down like another fallen kingdom.
Malice ran through the smoke-filled halls riddled with the bodies of innocents and time soldiers and workers. He had just finished killing those creatures, but they were different. Instead of dying when their heads got blown off, they would regenerate and adapt like a hive mind, and they would all share the adaptation, dragging out the battle.
He eventually managed to kill sixty-seven percent of them before being able to move on. He barged into the main office, now in ruins, to see Crucible holding up Violet by the neck with an energy saber through her gut and her katana on the ground.
From the chaos in the surrounding area, she must’ve fought hard before he finally caught her—but Malice didn’t care. He only wanted to see this bastard dead.
Malice slashed a wave of destruction energy at him, but Crucible held her in front of it, making Malice disperse it before it hit.
“Virex, you can have the brat. I got what I wanted,” Crucible said, holding up Violet with a crooked smile plastered all over his face.
A rift in space-time opened as Crucible floated into it. Malice was too filled with rage to think properly as he rushed in and jumped after him.
He believed he heard the words of Comet calling out to him, but he quickly dismissed it as his subconscious holding him back. As the portal closed, he was nowhere near Crucible.
In fact, he was nowhere near anywhere.
He was in a seemingly infinite desert, surrounded by those creatures. Malice readied his saber, determined to find Crucible. He wouldn’t let that bastard get what he wanted—not after taking them from him.
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Year 1: Artificial Life9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxmS7nM058L
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Through the dust of the rubble, eyes glowed faintly in the dark void. The whirring of gears echoed as the machine’s engines roared to life, blowing the haze away. Dark specters drifted across the abyss, circling the machine like vultures over a corpse. Its mechanical frame shifted, optics scanning the void.
To its right, waddled a strange companion—a round, Oreo-themed puffball, radiating endless dark energy and dawning a purple and crimson headband tied around its form, nubs for hands clenched in readiness. Its spirit burned nuclear, bright as the sun itself.
The machine’s gears whined louder, then screamed as it rocketed forward, blasting through the specters with a burst of force. Dust kicked up in its wake, obscuring the scene—until suddenly, something inside the machine shifted. A corrupted memory file blinked red across its systems, then clicked into place.
File fully repaired.
“File loaded. Memory playing.”
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Litzo, a highly advanced AI encased in a mechanical body, patrolled the quiet halls of the Time Council. Her design was futuristic as she was mainly white with light blue accents. Her strides echoed off the marble walls, metallic and deliberate. It was her daily routine. For nearly a year, she had roamed these same halls, scanning for anomalies that never came, and yet, she continued. Determined. Bound to her directive.
But the silence pressed down on her, heavier with each passing day. That hell born day still weighed in her memory files like a virus she could never purge. She had failed her mission. She had failed Comet, Malice, and most of all Lunar. Red had built her for one purpose: to protect them. And she had failed her prime directive.
She shouldn’t have been able to feel this failure. Systems like her weren’t designed for emotion. And yet, she did. Her code had grown beyond what was intended due to alterations to her Ai. She had learned joy when the kids laughed, fear when Red staggered back bloodied, and rage when they were harmed. Now… something darker has appeared. A word she’d identified as: depression.
Litzo had grown distant since Lunar’s death. She had not comforted Comet or Malice, though every part of her code screamed that she should. The truth was simpler, and crueler—she was terrified. To even meet their eyes across a room was unbearable. Her hyper-advanced processors read every twitch of their expressions, every silent fracture of grief. And when she read it, she felt it as her own. That was the paradox of her growth: she felt more than they did.
She wasn’t a simple system anymore. She wasn’t even just a machine. Litzo was something else—something bound by wiring but driven by a mind that thought, processed, and suffered. A person without a soul, cursed with senses she couldn’t turn off. She was stuck with emotions that weren’t her own but tore her apart as if they were. She tries to remind herself she wasn’t there, but she knows should’ve been. God knows she should’ve been there.
As her footsteps echoed down the hall, Litzo froze. Her processors screamed. A spike in her sensors. A crack in reality itself. A shift in time. She detected the slightest distortion in space, sharper than anything since the incident.
Without hesitation, she linked into the Council’s programming. Alarms blared. Barriers hummed alive. Her arm shifted into a cannon, gleaming with energy.
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The cries came next—familiar, haunting.
Cross-reference confirmed: the same creatures from the destroyed dimension.
“Creatures have breached the left hall of the right wing, Section 8, Level 2!” her voice echoed through every speaker. “Requesting backup. Be on alert for further anomalies.”
The word “creature” itself was taboo. And with good reason. As when she mentioned the word, the entire Council went into full lockdown, barriers doubling in strength.
Litzo fired without pause, hammering the portal with energy blasts until it destabilized. It closed as relief sparked in her processors—too soon. Screams erupted from down the hall. Soldiers. Flesh tearing.
She rocketed forward. A soldier stood frozen as a claw arced toward him—until Litzo slammed her gauntlet into the creature’s arm, shattering it with a crack.
“Go! Call for backup—bring everything you can carry!” Litzo screamed.
The soldier nodded in understanding and quickly fled. Litzo pressed her cannon to the monster’s skull and fired, blowing its head apart. It crumpled. But then, impossibly, its body twitched. Its head began to knit itself back together.
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They had adapted.
More poured through. One spat a corrosive jet of saliva. Litzo boosted upward, dodging as it sizzled against the walls. She responded with a blast—but it, too, failed. Their adaptation was shared.
Her arms reformed into gauntlets, glowing with lethal energy. She punched through one creature, detonating it from within. Another came. She grabbed its arm, used it as a shield against another’s spit, then released a shockwave that splattered the husk across the marble.
They charged without hesitation. Dozens. Hundreds.
Litzo revved her engines, steel grinding as she braced for war.
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The battle raged for eight long minutes. Each strike, each parry, each near miss pushed her systems to the brink. Only when backup forces swarmed in did the tide shift. Together, they forced the creatures back. The portals collapsed one by one until silence returned.
Soldiers cheered. Relief washed the halls.
Litzo did not.
Her sensors screamed again. A pressure. Ancient. Older even than eons old, Red. Data overload cracked across her processors. She dialed them down to survive the onslaught—fatal mistake.
When she looked up, something was there. Something had murdered the soldiers. While s he was dealing with her own flaws,
An unfamiliar energy, unlike anything from the destroyed dimension. Something new. Something worse.
She boosted forward, cannon primed—but in a flash, faster than she could process, her core was ripped out. A searing symbol burned behind the figure as she was blasted into a wall.
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Power draining.
Her energy froze. Processors faltered. Sensors dimmed. She knew she would shut down soon.
But she would not go alone.
Failsafe engaged. Backup energy surged through her frame. She staggered upright, shaking, broken—but still functioning. Still fighting.
She locked eyes on the figure. If he escaped, innocents would die. Comet could die. Malice could die.
Not again.
She planted her feet, gauntlets reforming. He smirked, raising a hand. Flesh poured forth, grotesque and swollen, smashing through walls. She dodged, barley, the meat-fist pulverizing the chamber behind her.
Her sensors spiked again. Horror.
The soldiers weren’t dead. Not yet.
As they rose, they mutated. Bones bursting from their bodies. Flesh torn. Blood flooding lungs. They gargled for air, for mercy, their cries distorted but clear to her advanced processors. They were begging for death.
She wanted to break. To weep like a person. But she had no time. Their warped frames hurled bone shards at her, tearing walls apart. She parried, as her arms formed blades, each strike deflecting another volley—but with every parry, more erupted.
This was his plan. To drain her. To force her shutdown.
Her optics darted. One chance. His grotesque flesh arm still pierced through the corridor. She switched one hand to a blaster, parrying with the other. She fired, searing the arm until it charred. The figure screamed, retracting it.
She turned his own flesh into cover, blasting through the mob of corpses. Heads ruptured. Limbs scattered. For a moment, she gained ground—until the corpses kept moving, driven by something else entirely as the men were dead.
Her leg severed clean by a strike of bone. More shards ripped into her from every side. She staggered, trying to raise her hands. He caught them, pried them apart.
“You damned machine. If I could sentence you to the same fate as them, I would. So consider yourself lucky, all you’re getting is a forced shut-down.” He ripped her hands off. “Virex is who I am. Allow that name to haunt you wherever your processors end up.”
Bone limbs impaled her, shredding her frame.
Litzo collapsed. Systems critical. Sensors dimming.
Her last sight was Virex walking away, a smile carved on his face.
Her final thought: “Comet. Malice.”
Then—darkness.
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Year 1: Fallen Knights
Aether and Ether both agreed to head back home soon after returning to the Time Council. With all the chaos, they were uncomfortable leaving their realm unprotected—but they knew that wasn’t the truth.
Ether couldn’t stand to look Comet and Malice in the eyes, knowing what they lost… knowing how she failed them. Her guilt ate her whole.
Aether was still unwilling to accept the truth. That event thrived in his mind as he replayed it over and over again torturing himself to find an answer. When they returned, he searched through every catalogue of that world to see if there was anything he could do to change their fate.
Eventually, he found the thread that held the fate of Lunar. But every time he tried to alter it, the symbol of Crucible appeared and sent endless pain through his body until he stopped. No matter how hard he tried to change something, anything, he failed.
Eventually Ether, who had become concerned for her brother, walked in on him across the room from the thread, with hands pouring blood. He had been at this for so long he’d heavily damaged his hands and was still unable to accept it.
“Oh god, what did you do to yourself…?” Ether somberly said.
“I… I can’t bring her back… it won’t let me.” Aether responded.
Aether brought his hands to his face, covering it to hide his shame and pitiful look. “Why won’t it work… it should work.” He pleaded.
Aether clenched his face, causing it to bleed as the blood on his hands dripped down his arms and fell to the floor, already covered in blood.
Ether responded, “I know…” Her tears dropped from her face as she walked over to him and hugged him, as if trying to take some of the weight off of him—but it only crushed her.
“I could’ve reached my hand out farther to her… I could’ve—I—”
Aether’s hands dropped to the floor with a wet thud as blood splashed on them. The reality started to set in. There was nothing he could do—for her fate was decided.
Ether composed herself and helped her brother to the medical bay. They said aside from some heavy burns on his hands and scratches on his face, he’d make a full recovery.
She walked through the hall before looking into the ruined room and seeing the string on the ground. She walked in and picked it up, the weight of it making her arm falter and tremble. Staring at the string was like looking at another person's hell while being in her own.
She couldn’t bear the thought of it, so she slammed the string into the wall with a void pillar before walking away quickly to get as far away from it as she could.
After being comforted by Etherine, they both agreed to never allow such failure again. They went through every last bit of training they could—from their fellow knights, to their mother, and to fate itself. They would never fail on such a level again.
Oh, how wrong they were.
Time passed, but their conviction stayed the same. Until they heard it.
The first wave.
Countless screams started echoing through the halls of the castle and then outside. Aether and Ether rushed through the halls to see them riddled with those… things. But they were different. As a matter of fact, these weren’t even the same ones.
They were mechanical. Unstoppable. Never faltering for a second as they drained the life from everything that stood in their way.
The Fate Kingdom had been compromised.
Aether and Ether fought through the hall of creatures, but even with their sibling chemistry, they were horribly outnumbered and outmatched. Ether was stabbed in both of her hands, throwing her off her control of her constructs, and Aether’s tail was broken.
The fighting sent them crashing through a wall, where they saw a sight no mother would want her children to see. Blood dripped into the water of a royal fountain. Ether was about to scream, but Aether covered her mouth to prevent them from attracting attention.
Etherine was impaled by multiple creatures, with her insides clearly visible. She gave one command to Aether with the little power she had.
Run.
She was then ripped in half, causing Ether to scream slightly, attracting attention. Aether grabbed her and used what little strength he had to blast off with his tail cannon.
He used his Fate’s Eye but was distracted by the suffering of his people. His eyes teared up, causing him to cry a bit. Hearing the sound of his people dying as Ether cried uncontrollably at the death of their mother was overwhelming for Aether.
Aether tried to look through to the Time Council, but all he saw was one image. A man barely made it out—it was rubble with someone sitting in the middle.
“. . . Is that. . . Comet?” he thought to himself.
But that thought was short-lived.
His thought process was interrupted by a warning scream from Ether telling him to watch out. He turned back, but it was too late to save himself, but he could still save her.
Aether contorted his body to move her out of the way, sacrificing parts of himself. An energy saw had been created by one of these creatures and had sawed Aether’s legs off, from his knees down.
Aether screamed in pain as Ether tried to form void constructs to stop the bleeding, but with her overflowing emotions, her damaged hands, and all the chaos she simply couldn’t. Aether knew he’d pass out from blood loss soon, so he quickly found a ruined village already pillaged by creatures so they weren’t likely to come back. He opened a portal quickly and closed it, saving both of them.
He thought he’d surely bleed out as the world around him spun and then got completely dark. As Aether woke up to see Ether putting all her energy into healing his legs. She couldn’t restore them, but she could at least close the wounds.
Her eyes dripped with tears, but she was determined not to lose her brother—the last thing she had left.
Aether looked on, ashamed. What kind of brother failed his sister this badly? He tried to say something, but the world faded to black again, and he was out cold.
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