They left the ruined forest behind.
Neither Lysander nor Roan said much.
Not because they had nothing to say—just too much to process.
Lysander's body still ached. Not from wounds alone, but from whatever that was… the tear in space, the shift in power, the thing he did without thinking.
The Fragment had reacted again.
But this time, it didn't just defend him.
It attacked for him.
And worse, it remembered something.
Not his memory—someone else's.
Every time he blinked now, he saw flashes of a temple swallowed by sand. A voice whispering in a language he didn't know. And always the same phrase carved into black stone: "When the chains break, the gods bleed."
It didn't make sense.
Not yet.
---
By noon the next day, they reached a small village called Redbraid Hollow, tucked between the cliffs and the scorched valley beyond. It wasn't much—wooden fences, a dried-up well, and a single inn with a cracked sign swinging in the wind.
They stepped inside.
It was quiet. Dust floated in the air. A few farmers looked up but quickly turned away.
Nobody asked questions in places like this.
Roan found a corner booth while Lysander handed coins to the old innkeeper—silent exchange, no eye contact. A room key dropped in his palm a moment later.
They sat down. Roan looked around. "This place smells like old blood."
"Because someone probably bled here," Lysander muttered.
She cracked a small smile. "You're getting used to this."
He didn't respond.
His eyes scanned the room. Something felt… off.
It wasn't the people.
It was the quiet.
The wrong kind of quiet.
Like the village itself was holding its breath.
---
It wasn't long before someone approached.
A man.
Maybe late twenties. Wore a black coat with silver threads across the sleeves. His face was half-covered by a faded scarf, but his eyes were clear. Sharp. Calculating.
He walked with a slight limp, like he'd been in too many fights.
Roan's hand slipped toward her dagger.
But the man stopped just before their table.
He didn't sit.
He didn't ask.
He just said, "You're the one the Watcher tried to erase."
Lysander froze.
Roan immediately shifted position—ready to draw steel.
"How do you know about that?" she asked.
The man pulled down his scarf.
There was a scar under his jaw—clean, straight, surgical. His eyes stayed locked on Lysander.
"Because I'm here to warn you," he said. "You're not the only one who's found a Fragment. And the Concord isn't the only one watching."
---
They stared at him in silence.
Lysander finally asked, "Who are you?"
The man gave a half-smile. "Name's Kael. I'm with the Relic Hunters."
Roan cursed under her breath. "Of course."
Lysander frowned. "I've heard of them. You dig up artifacts and sell them to the highest bidder."
Kael shrugged. "That's one way to put it. We also keep certain things out of the wrong hands. Like pieces of gods no one's supposed to remember."
Roan leaned forward. "What do you want with him?"
Kael met her gaze without blinking. "I want to help him. Before someone worse finds him."
Lysander folded his arms. "Help me how?"
Kael pulled something from his coat.
It was small.
A shard of stone, dark red, glowing faintly.
The moment it hit the table, Lysander's Fragment reacted. His chest burned. Not in pain—more like recognition.
The stone shimmered, pulsing once, then dimmed.
Kael nodded. "Yeah. Thought that might happen."
"What is that?" Lysander asked.
"One of the Seven Keys. Each one tied to a different sealed memory of the Fallen God. They're scattered all over the continent. Buried. Guarded. Forgotten. But someone's collecting them now."
Lysander narrowed his eyes. "You?"
Kael shook his head slowly. "No. A girl. Pale skin, silver hair. Carries a blade called Godpiercer. She has one of the Fragments too. But hers is… twisted."
Roan tensed. "Twisted how?"
Kael paused, then said, "It's alive."
Lysander didn't understand. "What do you mean alive?"
Kael leaned closer, voice low.
"Yours connects you to memories—pieces of power, echoes of a god who was erased."
"Hers feeds. Grows. It talks to her. And sometimes… it controls her."
Roan whispered, "Another Disciple?"
Kael nodded. "Or something worse."
---
The table was quiet again.
Then Kael pushed the red shard toward Lysander.
"I'll make you a deal. You take this. I'll show you where the next piece is. But after that… I want you to meet someone."
"Who?" Lysander asked.
Kael didn't answer.
He stood up. "I'll be in the chapel at the edge of the village. Sunset. Bring the Fragment."
And then he was gone.
Just like that.
---
Later, in the room upstairs, Lysander sat on the edge of the bed, holding the red shard in his palm.
It was warm.
Alive.
And it felt like something inside was waiting.
Roan sat by the window, sharpening her blade.
She spoke without looking at him.
"You trust this guy?"
Lysander didn't answer right away.
"I trust the feeling. And the way my Fragment reacted."
"Still could be a trap," she said.
He nodded. "Probably is."
Roan stopped sharpening. "Then why go?"
Lysander looked down at the shard.
"Because someone out there has another Fragment. And if they're already ahead of me... I need to know what I'm up against."
She leaned back, eyes half-closed. "Then let's hope this Kael isn't feeding you to something worse."
---
The chapel sat on a small hill just outside the village. Broken roof. Rusted bell. Half the walls had caved in. It looked like it hadn't seen worship in years.
But inside, a fire burned.
Kael waited near the altar, sitting with one leg propped up.
"You came," he said.
Lysander stepped inside slowly. Roan followed, dagger hidden in her sleeve.
Kael gestured to the altar.
There was a map—faded, torn, but marked with red ink.
"This," Kael said, "is the location of the next Key. It's buried beneath the ruins of a city swallowed by the desert. Name's Sularen."
"Sularen's a myth," Roan said.
Kael raised an eyebrow. "So are Watchers. Until you meet one."
Lysander stepped closer. "Why are you helping me?"
Kael looked up.
"For now? Because I need you to survive. There are forces moving that you haven't seen yet. Factions older than the Concord. Some of them want your god back."
He leaned forward.
"And others want to kill him a second time—by killing you."
---
A gust of wind blew through the ruined chapel.
Kael stood and walked to a shadowed corner.
From the dark, a figure stepped out.
A girl.
Slender frame. Covered in a traveling cloak. Her hood down.
Her eyes were gold.
Not glowing. Not magical.
Just… empty.
Like someone who'd seen too much, too young.
Kael nodded at her. "This is Mara."
"She's seen what happens when a Disciple loses control."
Lysander met her gaze.
And the girl spoke, voice soft.
"I saw a man burn his entire village alive… just to remember one name."