The sky broke open before dawn.

Rain fell like ash, soft and steady, blurring the ruins of Verden into gray silhouettes.

Eiden stood on the edge of the fountain, staring into the faint golden ripples. The water no longer shimmered with warmth — only cold reflection. His reflection. His guilt.

Behind him, Mira stirred awake beside the dying campfire.

Her voice was groggy, innocent.

 “You didn’t sleep again, did you?”

He turned slightly, forcing a tired smile.

 “Couldn’t. The rain’s too loud.”

She tilted her head. “It’s not raining that hard.”

He didn’t answer.

Because what he heard wasn’t rain — it was the faint hum of Lumen energy, vibrating through the air like a distant prayer.

---

They set out before sunrise, following an overgrown path leading toward the border valley. The remnants of the Lumen Order had offered them supplies and a warning:

 “If the Empire tracks you past the ridge, you’ll never reach the Hollow Plains alive.”

Mira walked ahead, cloak fluttering lightly in the wind. Her golden spark had begun to glow faintly beneath her skin, soft and alive.

Every time Eiden looked at her, a strange ache stirred in his chest — a mixture of fear and something he didn’t want to name.

“You’re quiet today,” she said without turning.

 “Just thinking.”

 “About what?”

 “About how the world used to be before all this… light and blood.”

Mira smiled faintly. “Maybe the gods broke it because people stopped believing.”

Eiden shook his head. “Or maybe they broke it because they believed too much.”

Their eyes met for a moment — fleeting, wordless — and then the wind changed.

The hum grew louder.

---

Somewhere miles away, inside a colossal cathedral of glass and steel, a cloaked figure knelt before a throne of white flame.

The Emperor’s voice echoed through the chamber:

 “You’ve felt it, haven’t you?”

The figure raised his head. His eyes were empty, like frozen stars.

“The Eighth Vessel has awakened.”

“Then reclaim him,” the Emperor ordered. “And bring the girl. Her spark belongs to the Core.”

The figure stood, drawing a blade that shimmered like liquid moonlight.

 “As you command, my Emperor.”

The storm outside shifted — clouds curling as if obeying the call.

The Reclaimer had begun his hunt.

---

Back in the valley, Eiden and Mira took shelter under a rocky ledge.

The air had grown colder.

Mira huddled close, trembling slightly.

“You’re shaking,” he said.

“I’m fine.”

 “No, you’re not.”

He pulled his cloak around her shoulders, feeling her heartbeat through the thin fabric. It was fast — too fast. The golden spark under her skin flickered with each beat.

She whispered, barely audible:

“It feels like something’s calling me…”

Eiden froze. “From where?”

She shook her head, eyes wide. “I don’t know… it’s not a voice, it’s like… it remembers me.”

He clenched his fists. Remembers her?

The storm thickened outside, rain turning silver under flashes of light.

In that moment, the faint hum became a roar — and Eiden felt it too. The same pull. The same ancient ache in his chest.

“Mira,” he said sharply. “Don’t answer it.”

But it was too late.

Her pupils glowed gold. Her lips parted, whispering something in a forgotten tongue —

and the world around them shifted.

---

The rain froze midair.

The valley twisted, light bending into impossible shapes.

For a heartbeat, Eiden saw visions — memories that weren’t his.

A burning city.

A woman holding a dying child.

A tower of crystal tearing the sky apart.

And at the center of it — Mira.

Older. Radiant. Weeping.

Then it all shattered.

Eiden gasped and fell to his knees. Mira collapsed beside him, unconscious.

When he lifted his head, the ground around them was scorched — spirals of golden fire etched into the mud.

The storm had stopped.

But standing at the edge of the clearing, half-hidden by the mist… was a man in white armor, blade resting against his shoulder.

“Eiden of the Lost Flame,” the stranger said softly. “You’ve run far enough.”

Eiden’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”

The man smiled faintly.

“The Reclaimer. I’ve come to return what never should’ve escaped.”

Eiden rose slowly, the gold veins in his arms flaring like molten glass.

 “Then you’ll have to take it from me.”

The Reclaimer’s blade glowed with silver light. “That’s the idea.”

And as lightning split the sky above them, the first true battle of fate began.

---