The sky above Vaelmir cracked.
Not like thunder. Not like storm.
Like glass.
It began with silence.
Then came the ash.
From the ruined mountains east of the Hollow Tree, a plume of black dust rose like a second sun, swirling outward in slow, deliberate spirals. The wind died. The air thickened. Every bird stopped singing.
Atop the fractured cliffs of the Whispering Reach, Nyssa turned sharply toward the blast. Her hair whipped behind her like a banner. Her hand gripped her sword, but the tremor in her fingers wasn't fear—it was recognition.
"That's Jack," she whispered.
Beside her, Marek had already dropped to one knee, palm pressed against the ground.
"Not just Jack," he said. "Kael too."
Nyssa's eyes narrowed. "They fused."
Marek looked up, grim. "Whatever they did… it tore the Gate wide open."
A low moan swept across the cliffs, as if the world itself was grieving.
From behind them, a soft voice spoke.
"You feel it too."
They turned to see Lola, her silver eyes glowing faintly, her cloak fluttering despite the windless air.
Nyssa still wasn't used to her. The girl had Jack's scent—memories of Earth clinging to her like oil—but she moved like something ancient now. Something touched.
Lola stepped forward, gaze fixed on the sky. "He broke the Gate. That means the Chainfire's gone. Which means…"
She didn't finish.
Because none of them could ignore the sound that followed:
A thunderous, gurgling scream—not from beast or man, but from beneath.
From the world itself.
Marek stumbled. "Something's rising."
Lola nodded. "No. Something's waking."
The cliffs buckled.
Veins of obsidian cracked through the stone, glowing with inner fire. From the deepest crevices, ghostlight spewed upward, forming vague shapes—withered giants, whispering wolves, twisted roots with screaming faces.
"Spirits," Nyssa breathed. "The Forgotten Kind."
"Buried when the Hollow Realm was sealed," Lola said. "They're no longer bound."
A shadow moved behind them.
Ashariel emerged from the mist, the Keeper of Aevareth—still veiled in her mirrored shroud, still walking like a memory unstuck from time.
"You opened the Eye," she said to Lola.
Lola didn't answer.
Ashariel stepped closer. "Then it is as I feared. The Second Sundering has truly begun. The Realm Between Realms will bleed into all worlds now—Vaelmir, Earth, even the celestial sanctums."
Marek exhaled sharply. "And here I was hoping for a nice, quiet apocalypse."
Ashariel ignored him. "If Jack and Kael fused at the Gate, their power is beyond anything known. But power without balance invites collapse."
Nyssa sheathed her sword. "We need to find them."
Lola's voice was strange—low and certain. "They'll find us."
Far below, in the valley that once held the Gate of Chains, light exploded again—this time not as a blast, but a flare.
A beacon.
A warning.
And in its heart stood two figures.
Jack—his hair streaked silver, his eyes split with light and shadow.
Kael—half-bound in arcane sigils, the golden fire of the Devourer flickering across his skin like living armor.
They stood back-to-back, surrounded by the crumbling husk of the Dark Lord's last manifestation.
Jack looked up.
He could feel them—Nyssa, Lola, Marek, Ashariel—like distant flames on a cold horizon.
He closed his eyes.
"We broke the Gate," he said.
Kael nodded. "Yeah. I noticed."
"Think they'll forgive us?"
Kael gave a dry laugh. "We unleashed the Second Sundering, Jack. There's not going to be a lot of forgiving going around."
Jack turned to the rising tide of ghostlight, to the falling ash, to the broken realm above.
"No," he said quietly. "But there might still be hope."
He reached into the air—and from the shimmer, pulled forth a blade made of pure memory.
Thalon's sword.
But not as it was.
This one burned with new intent.
Kael stared at it. "Where the hell did that come from?"
Jack didn't answer.
Because the wind shifted again—and with it came a sound like breathing.
Not theirs.
Not mortal.
The air breathed.
The sky watched.
Kael tensed. "Someone else is here."
A figure stepped into view at the edge of the ruined field. Neither light nor shadow clung to him. His skin was ink-black. His eyes were blank as bone.
He smiled.
"You thought this was the end?" he asked softly. "No. This was just the key."
Jack stepped forward. "Who are you?"
The figure tilted his head.
"I am what was lost. The one who whispered to Thalon. The one who fed the Devourer. The one even Auren feared to name."
He reached into his chest—and pulled free a mirror.
It shimmered, rippling with fire and void.
"The true Door," he whispered, "has not yet opened."
And then he vanished.
Along with the valley.
Along with the light.
Ashfall consumed the sky.
And far above, in the Sanctuary of Suns, something ancient began to crack.