The orb on the altar pulsed once—slow and dim.
Outside, the wind howled across the ruined Wastelands, and the faintest tremor ran through the sanctuary stone.
But inside…
You closed your eyes again.
And I sat with you.
Quiet. Steady. Waiting.
Because when you rose next—
The world wouldn't be ready.
But you would.
You stirred again hours later—this time with purpose.
No gasps, no groans. Just a sharp inhale and the stillness that follows a decision. I watched your hand reach for the edge of the stone beside your bedroll, fingers curling around it like a lifeline. You didn't look at me, but I could tell by the tension in your shoulders—you were done resting.
You were ready.
Or at least, you believed you needed to be.
"You shouldn't move yet," I said gently.
You ignored me, shifting onto your side with a grunt, then slowly—painfully—pushing yourself upright. The blanket fell from your shoulders. The bandages were tight across your ribs and side, faint lines of purple bruising still visible under the collarbones, but you didn't flinch. You moved like someone who had accepted the pain, swallowed it.
Like someone who had woken up… different.
Your breath came out shaky but steady.
"Where's my blade?" you asked.
I gestured to the stone table nearby.
Voidscar rested in silence where I'd placed it—cleaned, dried, polished. But even untouched, it pulsed faintly. Like it had been waiting for your hand this whole time.
You reached for it and gripped the hilt with a quiet reverence, the steel humming low at your touch. When you stood, I rose with you—ready to catch you if you collapsed. But you didn't.
You took a single step forward. Wobbled. Caught yourself.
Then another.
And then you turned toward me.
"I remember everything," you said. "Every second of the fight. Every breath. Every wound. I remember how I felt… when he started to break."
I nodded, saying nothing.
You looked down at your free hand, flexing it slowly.
"I should've died."
"Yes," I said.
"But I didn't."
"No," I whispered. "You didn't."
There was silence for a long stretch, broken only by the bubbling spring behind us. Then you looked at me again—truly looked—and I saw it behind your eyes.
That quiet storm rising.
Not confusion.
Not fear.
But hunger.
A need to understand.
To grow.
"I want to know what I am," you said.
I felt my breath catch.
Because there was no denial in your tone. No doubt.
Just certainty.
I took a step closer.
"I don't have answers," I admitted. "But I know where to start."
You raised a brow.
"There's a structure beneath the Wastelands," I continued. "One the Dracus tried to bury. It predates their presence here. Predates most of the recorded history in the Southern Vaults. I've only seen glimpses of its walls… through fractured dreams."
You stayed quiet.
Listening.
"I think whatever you tapped into... that power—it left an echo behind," I added. "It might be drawn to that place. Or maybe that place is drawn to you."
You didn't respond at first.
You just turned your gaze toward the sanctuary entrance.
The faint wind outside had picked up again, carrying with it the scent of scorched metal and old blood. The Wastelands were still broken. Still dangerous.
But you didn't flinch from it.
You took another step forward, slow and steady, like a man returning to a battlefield that never truly let him leave.
"I want to find it," you said.
You paused.
Then added, softer—
"I need to."
I walked up beside you and nodded. "Then I'll take you."
You looked at me again, and for a moment…
There was peace in your eyes.
Not because the storm had passed.
But because you'd finally chosen to walk into it.
As you gathered your things, I wrapped a fresh binding around your shoulder, and you let me. No words. Just trust. You tightened the strap on Voidscar, and the moment it rested against your back, the tension in your posture eased—like something inside you had just reconnected.
The sanctuary was no longer a place of healing.
It was now a launch point.
And as we stepped toward the tunnel leading back into the open air of the Wastelands…
You said just one thing.
"I don't know what's waiting for me."
I smiled faintly.
"Neither do they."