Darkness cradled me. But it wasn't the kind that suffocated or pulled—it was warm. Still. Infinite. And in that nothingness, a rhythm pulsed through the space between thought and memory.
I stirred.
My head rested on something soft—warmer than anything I remembered from the Hollow. My breathing was steady now, no more choking on ash or blood. Just silence. Peace.
Fingers ran through my hair, slow and deliberate, like they were memorizing the strands. I didn't have to open my eyes to know who it was.
"Nyxia…" My voice came out low, groggy, but without pain. "You're real…"
She didn't speak at first. Just kept petting my head, her nails lightly grazing my scalp, grounding me in this space that wasn't real, yet felt more alive than the world I'd just escaped.
"I've always been real to you," she finally said. Her voice was soft—not a whisper, not a lullaby, just hers. The sound carved through the endless dark like a gentle ripple, threading calm into my chest.
I opened my eyes slowly. We were seated in a glimmering void—black like ink, but flecked with tiny sparks, like dying stars refusing to vanish. Her thighs were beneath my head, her body reclined slightly, pale skin glowing faintly in the void's glow. Her long hair cascaded around us, floating like it had no weight. Like it, too, was dreaming.
"You held me…" I whispered. "Back then, before I died."
She smiled faintly, brushing a loose strand of hair from my face. "And I'm holding you now."
The Void didn't need time. But in this moment, I felt like hours passed without a single tick. I stayed still, head in her lap, eyes scanning the infinite black stretching out around us.
"I saw everything again… what they did to Faze. What I did. The blood. The pain. All of it came back."
"I know," she said gently. "You've buried so much for so long. But even the deepest wounds eventually demand to be felt."
I clenched my jaw. "He didn't deserve to die like that. None of them did."
"No," she agreed. "But you endured. Even when you shouldn't have. Even when every part of you screamed to give up."
Silence passed again, but it wasn't empty. It was heavy with all the things I wanted to ask—but knew I wasn't ready to hear.
"I still don't understand why I'm here," I murmured. "Why I'm alive. Why… why me?"
She lowered her hand, her palm resting against my cheek now. Her thumb traced the faint scar there, the one I always forgot was even there until the pain reminded me.
"You're here," she said, "because your soul refused to break."
I looked up at her, locking eyes with that swirling black-and-silver gaze—galaxies behind her irises, yet sadness embedded so deep it almost hurt to look into.
"They've taken everything from us," I said, voice cracking. "And I still feel like I'm not enough. Like I'm just running from death every time I take another breath."
"You are running," she replied. "But not away—from it. Through it. And the only ones who ever make it to the other side… are those who don't stop."
I sat up slowly, turning to face her fully. The moment my weight lifted from her lap, the warmth I'd grown used to faded slightly—but her presence never dulled.
"You've seen everything I've done so far?" I asked.
"I've felt it," she said, nodding. "The moment you touched your Essence. The battle with the cloaked ones. Violet's fear in the shrine. Scarlett's memory. Every heartbeat between you and the truth you're still trying to find."
I narrowed my eyes. "You talk like you know more than you're saying."
Her smile softened again, almost apologetic. "I do. But if I gave you answers now… they'd only shatter you."
"…That's not fair."
"No," she said. "But it's necessary."
I exhaled hard, my fists clenching, the void around us reacting ever so slightly—shifting, swirling, rippling with my frustration. But I knew better than to force her hand. Nyxia had her reasons. She always did.
"You've changed, Matte," she said quietly. "Not just your body… but your soul. You're no longer the boy from the Dunes, or the survivor from the encampment. You've begun to remember who you are… not just who they made you into."
A pause. She looked distant, for the first time since I'd arrived.
"I wish I could stay with you longer."
Her words landed like ice in my veins.
"What do you mean?"
Nyxia turned her gaze back to mine, leaning forward, pressing her forehead lightly to mine. Her breath was cold and warm at the same time—otherworldly. Divine.
"You're dying," she said softly. "Out there."
Images flashed in my mind—the Mortar Zone. The stonefire creatures. Their fists. The blood. My ribs cracking.
"You must wake up, Matte…" she whispered now. "Before it's too late."
Her lips brushed my forehead—not a kiss, just the echo of one.
"But Matte… before you can achieve your goals…"
She cupped my face with both hands, her voice trembling with emotion.
"You MUST WAKE UP."
And then—
Everything shattered.
Her hands slipped away. Her warmth vanished. The stars of the Void flickered out like dying embers, and I was flung backward—no ground, no sky, no breath to scream with.
The silence was replaced by a deafening crunch.
CRACK.
My body jolted violently.
I was back.
The monster's molten palm was wrapped around my skull, its grip like a vice forged from stone and hellfire. My face was buried in its burning grip, blood pouring from my scalp, seeping into my eyes, stinging every open wound. Bones creaked beneath the pressure.
I could feel it all.
Every fracture.
Every burst vessel.
Every inch of skin tearing beneath its grip.
The other creatures circled me like jackals, watching with those hollow, ember-lit sockets—soulless, without language, without thought, only the instinct to destroy.
And I was dying again.
No—worse.
I was aware this time.
A scream sat locked in my throat. My heart thundered once—twice—and then slowed.
My vision began to go white.
Not from peace. Not from surrender.
From something else.
Something building inside me like a storm trapped in a cage.
My breath hitched.
A soundless jolt pulsed through my chest.
BOOM.
Like a heartbeat born from something older than flesh. My body spasmed, a ripple of electricity slamming through my core and spreading outward like cracks in porcelain.
I gasped.
My back arched.
The stonefire creature holding me hesitated—only slightly—but it was enough. Enough to let me feel what was rising.
Essence.
Not calm.
Not focused.
Raw.
It poured from me like a dam breaking under pressure. My skin began to glow, veins flaring with pale white light, each pulse brighter, hotter, angrier.
The creature tried to squeeze harder, but my eyes snapped open—
Pure white. No pupils. No iris. No mercy.
I didn't know why the word came to me.
Didn't care.
I screamed it anyway.
"RELEASE!!"
The Hollow itself seemed to respond.
Essence erupted from my body in a blinding surge, like a thousand knives of light stabbing outward in all directions. The ground beneath me cracked. Air warped. The heat from the monsters paled in comparison to the cold fire now tearing through me, out of me.
The creature clutching my skull recoiled as my energy exploded against its chest, shoving it back with a distorted roar. The others stumbled, snarling, their twisted heads jerking as the light overwhelmed them. For the first time…
They looked startled.
I dropped to my knees, panting, arms trembling—but the Essence didn't stop. It spiraled off me like a storm given breath, rising in jagged spirals from my skin, illuminating the Mortar Zone in a flash of blinding brilliance.
I didn't know if I could control it.
I didn't even know what I had just done.
But I was no longer dying.
I was burning.
Alive.
And they knew it now.