The world shattered.
Lysandra had expected darkness. Instead, she found herself suspended in nothingness—a vast expanse of swirling energy, neither light nor shadow. It pulsed, breathing with the rhythm of something ancient, something alive.
She reached out, but her fingers met no ground, no air. Only the void.
Where am I?
A whisper curled around her, brushing against her skin like a phantom touch.
You have unbound yourself. Now, you must decide what you will become.
The voice wasn't the Forgotten God's. It wasn't Kastian's.
It was hers.
The Choice
Lysandra turned, and the void shifted. Reflections of herself flickered in the nothingness—versions of her that never were.
One, draped in gold, a crown resting on her brow, shadows coiled at her feet like loyal hounds. A queen.
Another, covered in scars, wielding a sword of obsidian, her eyes hollow with war. A conqueror.
A third, her form blurred, her face hidden behind a mask, whispering to the darkness. A ghost.
Is this what I could have been?
The reflections watched her, waiting.
Then another figure appeared—one she knew all too well.
Herself, bound in silver chains. The version that had lived in fear, that had hesitated, that had believed she was never meant to hold this power.
The version that was still here.
The choice was clear.
Lysandra reached forward—and tore the last reflection apart.
The chains around its wrists shattered. The void roared.
And suddenly, she was falling.
The Return
She hit the ground hard.
A gasp tore from her lips as the weight of reality crashed back into her body. The air was thick with the scent of stone and rain. Her vision blurred, but she could hear the temple groaning, the magic writhing around her.
A voice. "Lysandra!"
Kastian.
She forced her eyes open, her body aching. Kastian knelt beside her, his face tight with concern. The chains around his wrists were completely gone—nothing remained of their cursed bindings.
And then she saw her own hands.
The silver chains that had once bound her were nothing more than dust. In their place, her veins pulsed with deep, inky darkness—not wild, not chaotic, but hers.
Kastian exhaled, a slow, disbelieving sound. "You did it."
Lysandra flexed her fingers, feeling the power settle within her. For the first time in her life, it didn't feel like a burden.
It felt like freedom.
The Forgotten God's Warning
A low chuckle echoed through the temple.
Lysandra's breath hitched as the shadows thickened, swirling into a familiar form. The Forgotten God lingered, its shape flickering at the edges like smoke. But this time, there was something different.
The weight of it—the threat—was gone.
It tilted its head. "You have made your choice."
Lysandra rose to her feet, her voice steady. "I have."
The god watched her for a long moment before speaking again. "Then I will offer you one last truth."
She tensed.
"You believe you have broken my curse." The god's voice was softer now, a whisper of something almost… amused."But curses do not disappear."
The shadows around it began to dissipate, its form unraveling.
"They only change."
The words sent a chill through her bones. Before she could demand an answer, the Forgotten God was gone—swallowed by the temple's collapsing magic.
Kastian grabbed her hand. "We need to go. Now."
Lysandra's heart pounded, but she nodded. Whatever the god's warning meant, she would face it when the time came.
For now, she ran.