24. Thyros #2
The Praetor’s power surged. Golden light engulfed us.
Naeris wrapped her arms around my neck as reality folded.
For one suspended heartbeat, we flew. Not drifting this time.
Flying. Naeris threw back her head and screamed again.
The sound was not fear. It was pure, unrestrained delight.
I laughed aloud, unable to contain my pride in my extraordinary Aelyth.
The world snapped back into focus. Solid ground appeared beneath our feet as we materialized inside Zapharos’ palace. Naeris was still laughing. Her cheeks were flushed, her curls wild, and her eyes sparkled with exhilaration.
She looked up at me, breathless. “We are definitely doing that again.”
Emotion swelled in my chest until it was almost painful. War raged outside. The Harrowed One waited. The fate of the universe balanced on the edge of a blade. And all I could think was that I had never loved anyone more than I loved the astonishing female in my arms.
Naeris’ delighted laughter still echoed off the crystal walls, but it faded quickly as reality reasserted itself. Unfortunately, we didn't have time for wonder.
Zapharos strode forward without releasing Ella’s hand. “We don't have much time.”
The amusement vanished from all of us.
Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the far wall, offering a sweeping view of Nox Eternum. The sight beyond stole what remained of my breath. The usually dark skies above the world Zapharos had chosen as his home had become a lit-up battlefield.
Thousands of Arkhevari warriors streaked through the atmosphere like living comets, their auras blazing in shades of gold, silver, and blue-white fire. Some fought with blades of pure energy. Others unleashed bursts of celestial power that shattered entire clusters of Mmuhr’Rhong.
They were magnificent. But there were far fewer of them than there should have been.
I felt Naeris tense beside me as she took in the scale of the conflict.
Once, the Arkhevari had numbered in the millions.
An immortal host vast enough to defend entire galaxies.
But the war against the Harrowed One had consumed us, one by one.
And with every loss, the numbers of the Mmuhr’Rhong rose.
Every century, our numbers dwindled while the darkness grew stronger.
What remained now were the survivors. The strongest. The most stubborn.
The ones too determined to surrender. And even they were being pushed to the brink.
Outside the windows, a dozen Arkhevari warriors converged on a writhing mass of Mmuhr’Rhong. Their combined light burned like a newborn star. When the brilliance faded, only seven remained. My jaw tightened. This was what we were fighting to end.
Zapharos crossed the chamber to an ancient chest positioned beneath a towering crystalline arch.
The coffer itself was a work of art, forged from gold and translucent crystal etched with symbols older than recorded history.
As he laid his palm against the lid, the seals dissolved in concentric ripples of light.
Reverently, he lifted the top, withdrawing a bundle wrapped in layers of white cloth.
Every sound ceased. Even the distant battle beyond the windows seemed to fade. Zapharos carried the object to the central table and carefully peeled away the final layer. My breath caught.
The Shard of Echoes.
The most beautiful object I had ever seen.
It was a faceted globe no larger than a human skull, yet it seemed to contain an entire universe.
Gold and silver light shimmered beneath its crystalline surface.
Each perfectly cut facet caught the surrounding illumination and scattered it into thousands of tiny sparks that danced across the chamber like fragments of living starlight.
Galaxies swirled within its depths. Memories. Souls.
The preserved essence of our people. Naeris drew closer, and awe radiated through our bond. Ella’s hand moved forward instinctively, as though compelled by the same reverence that held all of us motionless.
“The Shard of Echoes,” Zapharos stated quietly. His voice was softer than I had ever heard it. “The heart of Reconstitution.”
The words reverberated through me.
Reconstitution.
The ancient Arkhevari process of renewal.
Created to prevent immortal minds from collapsing beneath the weight of endless memory, Reconstitution archived accumulated experiences and emotional burdens while preserving an individual's essential identity.
For millions of years, it allowed the Arkhevari to endure without succumbing to madness.
After the First Collapse and the rise of Nox Eternum, the process was corrupted. Memories became fragmented, identities fractured, and our connection to one another weakened, leaving us increasingly vulnerable to the whispers of the Harrowed One and the influence of the Dark Abyss.
Now, after discovering the Shard of Echoes and the prophecy hidden within the walls of the ancient city, we believed Reconstitution might hold a greater purpose than renewal alone.
Whether by fate, design, or desperate hope, the bond between Arkhevari and Aelyth appeared capable of restoring pieces of what was lost. Memories once buried might return.
Dormant abilities might awaken. Fractured souls might begin to heal.
No one knew what complete Reconstitution truly looks like. No living Arkhevari had ever witnessed it.
But if the prophecy was correct, it may allow us to reclaim more than our memories. It may restore the balance that existed before the Collapse shattered our bonds, our history, and our understanding of who we were meant to become.
For countless ages, this Vessel waited. Protected.
Hidden. Denied to us by war and loss. Now it lay before us, radiant and whole.
A promise that nothing truly precious was ever gone forever.
Naeris clung to my arm, and through the bond, I felt her awe and wariness.
Because instinctively she understood too, what lay before us.
I tightened my fingers around hers, overcome by a fierce, almost painful surge of hope.
For the first time in millions of years, the future no longer felt like a slow retreat. It felt like possibility.
Dravok’s head snapped toward the windows. “The Mmuhr’Rhong are breaking through.”
Outside, the battle intensified. The Harrowed One was throwing all his armies against us in one final attempt to prevent his defeat. Shadows poured across the sky like a living plague. Zapharos wrapped the globe once more and lifted it into his hands.
His dark gaze met each of ours in turn. “Then let us finish what our ancestors began.”