The path away from the final Nexus was a mixture of quiet and unease. The air still carried the faint hum of the stabilized threads, a fragile harmony that held the barrier together. But the further we walked, the heavier the weight in my chest grew.

We had done it. Ecclesion’s forces were scattered, the last of their controlled Nexuses stabilized. The void’s pull had weakened, its oppressive presence retreating to the edges of my thoughts.

And yet, it wasn’t over.

Jessa walked beside me, her blade still drawn. “You’re too quiet,” she said, her sharp eyes studying me. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

I glanced at her, gripping the crystal tightly in my hand. Its hum was faint now, its light dimmed after stabilizing the Nexus. “The barrier’s threads are holding, but it feels... temporary. Like something’s waiting.”

“Waiting for what?” Ryla asked, falling into step on my other side.

I shook my head. “I don’t know. But it’s not over. Not yet.”

The group crested a hill, the barren landscape of the Deadlands stretching out before us. The faint glow of the stabilized Nexuses was visible in the distance, their light barely cutting through the haze.

“We need to head back to safe ground,” Jessa said, her voice steady. “Regroup, plan our next steps.”

“Do we even know what the next steps are?” Farron asked, his tone edged with nervous energy. “We’ve been chasing Nexuses and smashing Ecclesion’s toys for weeks. Now what? We just... wait for the void to try again?”

“No,” I said firmly. “We prepare for whatever’s coming next.”

The crystal in my hand pulsed faintly, its hum aligning with the threads of the barrier. The rhythm felt steady for now, but beneath it was a faint undercurrent of tension—a reminder that the void wasn’t finished with us.

Orin frowned, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “You think Ecclesion’s going to stay scattered? They’ve lost their foothold, but their leaders won’t give up. They’ll regroup, maybe even strike back harder.”

“Let them,” Jessa said, her tone hard. “We’ve beaten them before. We’ll do it again.”

“But the void...” Ryla began, her voice trailing off.

“The void is weaker now,” I said. “But that doesn’t mean it’s gone. We’ve delayed it, but the barrier is still fragile. We need to figure out how to hold it together for good.”

As we descended into a shallow valley, the air grew heavier again, the faint tension of the barrier’s threads pressing against my thoughts.

“I don’t like this,” Ryla muttered, her bow in hand. “Feels like we’re being watched.”

“We probably are,” Farron said, his voice tinged with forced humor. “This place isn’t exactly welcoming.”

Jessa glanced over her shoulder, her blade glinting faintly in the dim light. “Stay sharp. Whatever’s out there, we deal with it like we always do.”

The valley opened into a narrow canyon, its jagged walls glowing faintly with the energy of the barrier. The path ahead was clear, but the oppressive weight in the air grew stronger with each step.

And then, the traveler appeared.

He stepped out of the glowing fissures as if he had been waiting, his dark cloak billowing faintly. The runes on his armor pulsed faintly, their rhythm in perfect sync with the barrier’s threads.

“You have done well,” he said, his voice low and resonant. “But the path is not yet complete.”

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Jessa’s blade was up in an instant, her stance tense. “We’re not in the mood for riddles. Say what you came to say and leave.”

The traveler’s glowing eyes fixed on me, ignoring her completely. “The void has retreated, but it has not forgotten. It is still watching, still waiting. You have delayed its advance, but the barrier’s heart remains fragile.”

“And what do you expect us to do about it?” I asked, my voice steady despite the weight pressing against me.

The traveler tilted his head slightly. “You must choose your place in the cycle. The threads of this world will hold, but only if you remain to guide them.”

The group exchanged uneasy glances, the tension thickening.

“What do you mean, remain?” Jessa asked, stepping forward.

The traveler’s gaze didn’t waver from mine. “You are the anomaly. The threads of the barrier align with you, but they cannot maintain their harmony without your presence. You are part of the cycle now.”

“And if I leave?” I asked, my stomach twisting at the implication.

The traveler’s voice was calm but unyielding. “The threads will fray. The void will return. And the cycle will end.”

Ryla stepped closer, her expression sharp. “You’re saying Ash has to stay here. Forever?”

The traveler inclined his head. “If the balance is to hold, yes. But the choice remains his.”

I stared at the crystal in my hand, its faint hum resonating with the tension in the air. The weight of the decision pressed heavily against my chest.

“What if there’s another way?” I asked, my voice quiet.

The traveler was silent for a long moment before replying. “If there is, you will have to find it yourself. But time is running out, anomaly.”

He vanished into the fissures, his presence leaving the air heavy with unspoken consequences.

The group stood in silence, the gravity of the traveler’s words settling over us like a storm.

“What do we do now?” Orin asked, his voice low.

“We keep going,” Jessa said firmly, her gaze fixed ahead. “We find a way to hold the barrier together—and we do it on our terms.”

I nodded, gripping the crystal tightly. “This isn’t the end. Not yet.”

The void was still watching.

But so were we.

The glowing expanse seemed to pulse faintly around us, its rhythmic energy almost hypnotic as the group settled into uneasy rest. Even in the moments of stillness, the tension didn’t fade. The traveler’s words replayed in my mind like an unrelenting echo: “The threads will hold, but only if you remain to guide them.”

Jessa’s quiet determination was reassuring, but the logic of the traveler’s warning gnawed at me. The threads were stable now, but I could feel the fragility beneath their rhythm—a balance held together by my connection to the crystal, to the barrier itself.

Could we really find another way?

Ryla’s voice cut through the silence, low but steady. “Ash.”

I glanced toward her as she stepped closer, her bow slung across her shoulder. “I get why you’re worried. The threads, the void... all of it. But whatever happens, you’re not doing this alone. We’ll figure it out together, or we won’t figure it out at all.”

“Ryla’s right,” Orin said, his tone unusually serious as he joined us. “This isn’t your burden alone. We’ve all fought for this, and we’ll keep fighting. You don’t have to carry it by yourself.”

Farron plopped down beside the fire, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Yeah, what they said. Plus, if you pull the whole ‘lone hero’ thing, who’s going to keep me entertained with glowing-rock tricks? Or laugh at my jokes?”

“You think we laugh at your jokes?” Ryla asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not the point,” Farron said, waving a hand dismissively.

I couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh, the weight in my chest easing slightly. “Thanks, Farron. I’ll keep that in mind.”

As the night stretched on, the group gradually drifted off to sleep, though I could tell no one was fully at ease. The barrier’s faint hum lingered in the background, its energy a constant presence pressing against my thoughts.

I sat with the crystal in my lap, staring into its faint glow as the hours passed. The threads of the barrier pulsed faintly, their rhythm steady for now but fragile beneath the surface.

“You are the anomaly.” The traveler’s voice echoed in my mind. “The threads cannot hold without you.”

I tightened my grip on the crystal. There had to be another way.

Before dawn, the air shifted.

The faint tension pressing against my thoughts grew sharper, the rhythm of the threads trembling slightly as a low vibration rippled through the ground.

I shot to my feet, the crystal flaring faintly in response.

“What is it?” Jessa was awake instantly, her blade already in hand.

“The threads,” I said, my voice low. “Something’s pulling at them. The void’s testing the barrier.”

The others were on their feet in moments, their weapons ready as the faint vibration grew stronger. The glowing fissures around us pulsed erratically, their steady rhythm disrupted by chaotic energy.

“What are we dealing with?” Orin asked, his tone grim.

“I don’t know,” I said, the crystal humming violently in my hand. “But it’s coming. Be ready.”

The faint glow on the horizon began to shift, a swirling darkness pressing against the edges of the light.

The void was making its move.

And we had to stop it.