The walk back to my quarters was silent, except for the faint hum of the dome overhead. The city that had looked so alive in daylight now felt like an empty shell — beautiful, glowing, and hollow.

Perin padded along beside me, his eyes reflecting the blue light of the streets. The closer we got to the residential sector, the more I noticed how quiet everyone had become. No laughter. No talking. Just… silence.

Every window we passed showed the same thing — families sitting still around glowing stones, heads bowed as if in quiet prayer even after the cycle was over.

It wasn’t peace. It was obedience.

I unlocked the small metal door to my temporary quarters. The inside was simple — one bed, a small table, a thin glowing screen showing the time and the faint pulse of Astra energy. Even here, the walls hummed softly with that same invisible current, like the entire city shared one heartbeat.

Perin jumped onto the bed immediately, curling up into a golden ball of fur. His soft snoring filled the still air within seconds.

I sat by the window, staring out at the endless blue light of the dome. It was beautiful — hauntingly so — and yet it made my chest tighten the longer I looked.

“I don’t get it,” I whispered. “This place should feel safe… but it doesn’t.”

Perin’s ear twitched, as if he agreed even in sleep.

I leaned back, rubbing my temples. Every sound in this city — every light, every breath — seemed to be part of the same rhythm. A rhythm not chosen by the people, but by something greater. Something watching.

I thought about the guard’s badge. The spiral sun. The chanting.
And the voice that had whispered through the air at dusk:
Children of light. Offer your peace.

It hadn’t sounded like a god.
It had sounded like control.

Outside, the dome shimmered faintly, sending a ripple of blue across the sky like a slow wave of thought.

I yawned, exhaustion creeping up behind my confusion. My body felt heavy, my mind fogged.

“Alright, alright,” I muttered, lying back on the bed beside Perin. “Just a few minutes of rest…”

The hum of Astra filled my ears like a lullaby — too gentle, too perfect. My eyelids grew heavy, the world fading to black.

And then—

A sound pierced the silence.

Faint at first — a whisper brushing against my ear.
Then clearer.
Calling my name.

“Arin…”

My eyes snapped open.

Everything around me was black. No sky, no stars — just endless void. Then, slowly, light bled into the darkness — red, liquid, and alive.

I was lying on water. But it wasn’t water.
It glowed — molten red, thick like blood or lava — stretching endlessly in every direction. Each ripple shimmered like a dying heartbeat.

I pushed myself up, staring around in disbelief.
The heat licked at my skin, yet I felt no pain — only dread.

Far ahead, through the red haze, I saw something rise above the horizon — a throne. Enormous, ancient, and carved of black stone. Someone sat upon it.

A silhouette. Human in shape… but vast, unmoving, watching me.

“Who are you?” I shouted, my voice echoing strangely across the burning sea.
No reply.

I stepped forward, my boots sinking slightly into the molten surface but somehow holding. I walked, one step after another, the red light reflecting off my skin.

Around me floated shapes — dark, twisted. I looked down and froze.

Skulls. Hundreds of them, drifting beneath the surface like drowned memories.

My breath caught. I looked away, forcing myself to keep walking.
“Who are you?” I shouted again, louder this time. “Answer me!”

The air rippled — then came the reply.

A voice that felt like thunder and ice all at once.
“I am Kalkin.”

The sound vibrated through my bones.

I froze. That name. Kalkin.
The legendary warrior Lang spoke of. The one I was cloned from.

“I…” My throat went dry. “Why am I here?”

His figure shifted, the air bending around him with invisible power.
When he spoke again, his tone carried authority that crushed the space around me.

“I give you your purpose,” he said. “Kill her.”

My heart skipped. “Kill who?”

“The Mother of Nature.”

The name echoed like a curse. The surface of the red sea trembled, waves of molten light spreading outward.

“Why?” I demanded. “Why would I—”

“You will understand,” Kalkin interrupted, his voice growing distant — colder.

Before I could speak again, a flash of red light tore through the air. It shot straight toward me — faster than thought — and pierced my chest.

“Ah—!”

Pain exploded through me. My breath vanished. My hands flew to my chest, where the glowing blade had entered. The world began to spin.

I tried to shout, to breathe — but invisible hands closed around my throat, choking me, dragging me down into the molten sea.

The heat burned through my veins, and just before I sank completely, I saw it —

A massive blue sphere, hanging in the crimson sky above the throne. It shimmered like liquid glass, pulsing with light. Inside it, swirls of green danced like clouds over land.

A planet.
No — a world.

I recognized it.
I didn’t know how, but I did.

The sphere pulsed once… twice… and then shattered into light.

Everything went black.

I jolted awake with a gasp, drenched in sweat. My chest burned where the light had struck me.

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. I just stared at the ceiling, heart hammering against my ribs, lungs struggling for air.

“What… what was that?” I whispered hoarsely. “That thing… that thing…”

Perin leapt onto the bed, eyes wide and alert, his fur bristling. He growled softly, confused and scared.

I clutched my chest again — the pain fading, but the echo of that voice still vibrating in my skull.

“I am Kalkin… Kill her…”

The words wouldn’t leave my head.

And for the first time since I’d awakened in that lab…
I felt fear.

Real, bone-deep fear.