Silence was sacred here.
High in the wind-cut ridges of Nepal, the Shambali Monastery stood untouched by war, suspended in time. Candles flickered. Incense drifted like smoke from a dying star. Somewhere beyond the stone, bells chimed with a slow, ancient rhythm.
Genji sat beneath the Bodhi tree.
His sword was laid beside him—not as a weapon, but as a memory. His eyes were closed. Breath steady. Thoughts drifting like leaves in water.
He did not come here to sharpen his blade.
He came to remember who he was.
To forget what he had lost.
But peace never lasted long in this world.
It began with a tremor.
Not in the earth—but in the spirit.
A ripple of heatless flame. A pressure behind the eyes. A taste of ash in lungs that had long forgotten how to breathe.
Zenyatta's orbs froze mid-orbit.
The omnic monk paused in his silent walk, golden robes fluttering in a wind that wasn't there. His gaze slowly lifted to the sky—past the clouds, past the atmosphere.
To something… deeper.
"Do you feel it?" he asked.
Genji opened his eyes.
There was no thunder. No quake.
Just the subtle sense that something precious had died somewhere far away… and the world hadn't noticed.
"Yes," Genji said. "What is it?"
Zenyatta's voice, usually calm, seemed strained—distant.
"A soul screaming so loud, it cracked the veil between life and death."
The wind shifted. A shadow crossed the courtyard.
"He burns again," Zenyatta murmured. "But this is no resurrection."
Genji stood.
Not like a warrior—but like a brother remembering the weight of grief.
"Jay."
The name came unbidden, but certain.
A flicker of old memories surfaced—
Laughter during sparring sessions.
Jay creating flame constructs to cook instant noodles.
The night Angela made them promise to take care of each other.
Genji had failed her. And Jay…
"He was sealed," Genji said. "I felt it. I thought he was at peace."
Zenyatta turned, his expression unreadable.
"He was," he said. "But peace has limits. And grief… has none."
A pulse shook the sky.
The clouds burned red for a breathless instant—then dimmed.
"What was that?" Genji asked, stepping toward the edge of the platform.
Zenyatta floated beside him, silent for a long time.
"The Abyss," he said finally, "has collapsed."
Genji froze.
"You don't mean—"
"Yes," Zenyatta answered. "He burned his prison. His pain melted reality. And now… even Hell cannot contain him."
Genji's hand tightened around the hilt of his blade.
"Then I have to find him."
Zenyatta reached forward, placing a gentle hand on Genji's shoulder.
"You may not find the friend you remember."
Genji met his master's gaze.
"But someone has to try."
Bells tolled.
The sky above the monastery turned a deeper shade of crimson.
And somewhere, across the broken edges of the world,
a god of fire walked free.