The sky had turned to iron.
Clouds churned like boiling smoke above the blackened forest, casting long shadows that twitched with every gust of wind. Beneath the skeletal trees, the world stood still — too still. Even the birds had fled. Only ash floated lazily in the air like dead snowflakes.
Rafael stood at the center of it all, staring at the broken monolith in the clearing before him. Once, it had been part of a temple — or maybe a prison. Time had erased the difference. Now, only ruins remained, half-sunken in scorched earth and silence.
Beside him, the silver-eyed girl crouched, her hand pressed against the cracked stone. Magic pulsed faintly through her fingers.
"It's still here," she murmured.
"What is?" Rafael asked, arms crossed, eyes distant.
"The key," she whispered. "Or maybe the lock. Hard to tell with things this old."
Rafael didn't respond. The artifact in his coat pulsed like a second heartbeat, stronger here — like it recognized the place.
"Whatever it is," he said finally, "it's reacting."
She stood, brushing ash from her cloak. "Then we're close. Closer than we've ever been."
"To what?" he asked.
She met his eyes.
"To the truth. To what started this war. To what broke you."
A cold wind hissed between the ruins.
"I'm not broken," Rafael said flatly.
Her eyes softened just enough to be dangerous.
"Then why haven't you asked me my name?"
Silence.
He hadn't realized it until now — not really. She'd been beside him for days, fought beside him, bled beside him. And he'd never once asked who she truly was.
Because part of him already knew.Because part of him was afraid.
She smiled, but there was no joy in it.
"I'm Elira."
He flinched. Just slightly.
The name echoed like a bell in the hollows of his memory — a name from another life. A promise he had buried with blood.
"You died," he said quietly.
Elira stepped closer, the wind swirling her ash-white hair.
"Maybe I did. Or maybe I was never really alive to begin with."
Rafael turned away, hands clenched into fists.
"You were part of Project Echo," he muttered. "They said the subjects couldn't survive outside containment."
"They were wrong," she said. "You should know. You destroyed the containment unit yourself."
Rafael's jaw tightened.
Project Echo. The government's attempt to fuse ancient magic with human will — to create perfect soldiers. Weapons. Monsters.
Rafael had been the first success.
Elira had been the last failure.
Or so he had believed.
"You were just a girl," he said. "You didn't ask for any of it."
"Neither did you," she replied. "But you made them pay."
He turned, eyes burning. "Not enough."
Suddenly, a sound — sharp, electronic — cut through the forest.
A mechanical hum. Then another.
Drones.
Dozens.
They crested over the treetops like black vultures, forming a perimeter. Behind them, armored vehicles pushed through the ash, tires crushing brittle branches. Soldiers in high-tech exo-suits moved with precision, weapons raised.
"Elira," Rafael said without turning. "Run."
"No," she said. "Not this time."
"You can't stop this many."
"But I can give them a reason to hesitate."
As she raised her hands, magic shimmered around her — silver light lacing the air like threads of starlight.
From his coat, Rafael drew the artifact. Its glow intensified, reacting to her power.
Then a voice echoed through loudspeakers:
"RAFAEL RALFS KASHTANOV. SURRENDER IMMEDIATELY."
He didn't move.
"YOU ARE IN POSSESSION OF A CLASS-ZERO ARTIFACT. YOU ARE CHARGED WITH HIGH TREASON, MASS EXECUTION, AND REALITY CODE VIOLATIONS."
Still, Rafael didn't move. The wind picked up. His scarf fluttered.
Elira stood beside him now, her voice low.
"If you give it to them, they'll wipe everything. Rewrite the past. Erase you. Me. All of it."
Rafael looked down at the artifact — a shard of obsidian laced with gold veins. It pulsed harder than ever, like it could sense what was coming.
"I'm not giving it to anyone," he said.
He stepped forward.
The soldiers raised their weapons in unison.
Elira tensed, ready to unleash her magic.
But Rafael raised his hand.
"Wait," he said.
The world held its breath.
He closed his eyes… and dropped the artifact to the ground.
The instant it touched the soil, the forest screamed.
Light erupted from the earth, veins of ancient magic igniting like lightning. The soldiers stumbled, blinded, their visors cracking. The drones sputtered and crashed, falling like dying birds.
Elira cried out as the energy surged through her — through Rafael — binding them in a web of memory and flame.
And then —
A vision.
He saw it all.
— The original war.— The origin of the artifact.— The gods who created it.— The lie that started everything.— The first version of himself.
A boy. A soldier. A king. A monster.
And in every version… Elira was there.
Sometimes friend. Sometimes foe. Sometimes something more.
Then, the vision shattered — and they were back in the forest, surrounded by stunned soldiers and crackling air.
Rafael opened his eyes.
They were glowing.
The artifact had fused with him.
No longer a weapon. No longer a man.
Something else.
"Rafael…" Elira breathed.
He turned to her, voice deeper, ancient.
"This isn't the end."
He looked back at the soldiers.
"It's the reckoning."
And as lightning split the sky, Rafael stepped forward — and the world changed with every step.