The rift had closed with a sudden, eerie stillness, leaving the forest in a tense silence. The air was heavy, thick with the unease that followed the Weaver’s cryptic words. Kael stood at the edge of the clearing, his mind reeling with thoughts of the shattering Crystal, the broken thread, and the dark power he had felt in the presence of the Weaver. A broken thread… The time you lost will never return. What did it all mean?

Siris, still beside him, watched his face with growing concern. “Kael,” she said, her voice quieter now, edged with worry. “We have to move. The rift—it could open again, and we’re not safe here.”

But Kael barely acknowledged her, his thoughts consumed with the knowledge that the world was fractured beyond repair. The old rules, the knightly code of justice and mercy—none of it made sense anymore. The Weaver had shown him the truth in their mocking words. The world had already broken, and perhaps the only way to survive was to seize control.

Siris stepped forward, her eyes searching his face for some sign of the boy she once knew, the one who had believed in hope. "Kael, we can’t stay here. It’s not safe."

Before Kael could respond, a rustling sound broke the silence, followed by the approach of several villagers. They were dragging a man through the forest, his hands bound tightly. Kael’s gaze locked onto the figure, and a cold recognition crept through him. It was Eran—the thief who had been looting the bodies of those killed by the rift’s chaos.

"Please," Eran pleaded, his voice raw with fear. "I didn’t mean any harm. I was just trying to feed my family. You don’t understand—people are starving. The world’s falling apart. I had no choice."

The villagers, bruised and weary from the turmoil, stopped just short of Kael and Siris. One of them—a man with a deep scar across his face—spoke in a trembling voice. "He was raiding the bodies of the fallen. Taking what wasn’t his. He needs to answer for his crimes."

Kael stood motionless, his thoughts spiraling. Justice, mercy, survival—none of it seemed real anymore. Eran had done what he could to survive, but wasn’t that the way of the world now? Survival at any cost? He remembered the Weaver’s taunts, how easily the fabric of time could be manipulated. What was the point of mercy when everything was already broken?

Siris stepped forward, her hand on the hilt of her sword. "You stole from the dead. You’ve hurt others. That’s a crime."

Kael’s hand, however, was already resting on the hilt of his dark blade. He felt the pull of it—the weight of the power it offered. Power to shape this world, to bring an end to the weakness that had plagued it.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“You don’t get it, Siris,” Kael said, his voice low, detached. “This world is a dying thing. There’s no place for mercy anymore.” He turned toward Eran, his eyes cold and unfeeling. “He took from others without hesitation. And he would’ve kept taking, until there was nothing left.”

Siris took a step back, a flicker of horror crossing her face. "Kael, no…stop!

But Kael was beyond listening. His hand moved with cold precision, drawing the dark blade. In one swift motion, he cut down Eran with the same ruthless ease that a lumberjack might fell a tree. Eran’s body crumpled to the ground, blood staining the earth beneath him.

The forest seemed to hold its breath, the air thick with the aftermath of the act. Siris stood frozen, her mouth slightly agape. The villagers, who had watched in stunned silence, began murmuring among themselves.

Kael stood over the body, his breath steady but his eyes far away. "It had to be done. He was a threat to everyone else."

The words left his mouth, but they felt hollow. His mind was still racing, a whirlwind of emotions he didn’t understand.

But then, as the weight of what he had done began to settle in, Kael’s expression faltered. His eyes darted to the lifeless body at his feet, and for the briefest moment, a flicker of regret flashed across his face.

He took a step back, shaking his head. "I… I don’t know what came over me," Kael muttered, his voice barely a whisper. His grip on the dark blade loosened, and he let it drop to the ground. "I didn’t mean to—"

Siris took a cautious step toward him, her voice trembling with disbelief. "Kael, you… you killed him. Just like that. In front of everyone."

Kael swallowed, his heart pounding in his chest. What have I become? For a fleeting moment, the anger and confusion that had driven him seemed to dissipate, replaced by a hollow emptiness. He bent down, his hand hovering over the dead thief. "I didn’t mean it," he whispered, as if pleading with the air itself. "I didn’t want to do this."

Gerrak, who had been standing a few paces back, watching the scene unfold, finally stepped forward. His face was hard, his voice steady. "Kael, this isn’t the way." His eyes scanned the villagers who had witnessed the act. "You can’t just take lives without consequence. You’re not the same as him."

Kael’s gaze flickered toward Gerrak, his face a mask of conflicted emotions. "I don’t know what’s happening to me," he admitted, his voice low and raw. "The world is broken, Gerrak. Everything’s broken."

Siris stood beside him now, her voice softer, but still filled with concern. "Kael, you have to stop. There’s still a chance to make things right. But not like this."

Kael turned his back on them, his eyes dark with uncertainty. "Maybe you’re right. But I don’t know how much longer I can keep pretending that everything’s going to be okay." He stepped away from the body of Eran, his mind clouded with doubt. The darkness he had felt earlier—the hunger for power—lingered, threatening to consume him.

Gerrak exchanged a look with Siris, both of them uncertain of what to say. Kael was slipping further away from the person he had once been, and they both knew it. But for now, all they could do was follow him, hoping there was still a trace of the boy who had once dreamed of something greater.

As Kael disappeared into the woods, the others lingered behind, unsure of what would come next—unsure of whether the man they had once trusted would ever return.