The world had never been this quiet.
No birds. No wind. No breath of life in the air.
Zeeler stood alone in the Waking Hollow—a place so old the trees grew upside down. Their roots clawed the sky. Their branches dug into the stone below. The mark on his chest pulsed steadily, the Stilllight inside him calm but alert.
Something was coming.
He didn't know how he knew. Just that his blood felt it.
A presence.
Not predator. Not prey.
Something else.
Like looking into water and seeing your reflection blink.
Then—
A crack.
Not in the air. Not in the earth.
In space itself.
A line split the sky behind him, as thin as a hair. Zeeler turned.
A figure stepped through.
Not summoned. Not broken in. Just walked, like space allowed it.
The boy was his age—dark clothes draped loose, stitched with symbols Zeeler didn't recognize but felt. His hair was ash-gray, spiked and wind-torn. His skin shimmered with flickers of fractured light. And his eyes—
One silver.
One pitch black.
He stared at Zeeler like he was reading a book written in screams.
Then he smiled. Soft. Calm.
"I was wondering when you'd bloom."
Zeeler said nothing. But his body shifted subtly. Weight adjusted. Hands open. Ready.
The boy didn't move. Just took a breath.
"I'm Rythe."
That voice. Something about it made Zeeler's heart pull tight.
Not just power.
Kinship.
"Zeeler," he replied.
Rythe stepped forward. No threat in his motion. But the air shook with each footfall. Not loud. Just… wrong. The world nudged sideways to make room for him.
"You felt the Hollow wake?" Rythe asked.
Zeeler nodded. "It sang."
"It always does. Before we meet."
Zeeler tilted his head. "There are more?"
"Not many." Rythe's gaze sharpened. "But enough."
A silence stretched between them, heavy.
And then Rythe whispered, like confessing a sin:
"They've started hunting us in pairs."
Zeeler's spine straightened. "Who?"
"Everyone."
A pulse of power slammed into the clearing.
Not from Rythe.
From above.
Zeeler fractured backward just as a bladed sigil crushed into the earth where he'd stood—a Noctari binding rune, laced in blackfire. The moment it hit, the air split with shrieks—executioners, half-seen, leaping from tree to tree. Dreamsteel drawn. Faces masked in cracked glass.
Three landed behind Rythe.
Four surrounded Zeeler.
But neither boy looked surprised.
"They followed me," Rythe muttered.
Zeeler cracked his neck. "They followed me."
Both turned at the same time.
And moved.
Zeeler fractured left—his cloak splitting into strands of light and shade. A blade came down. He ducked under it and slammed his hand into the assassin's ribs—Resonant Echo, a burst of stolen sound that crushed the man backward through a tree.
Rythe lifted his fingers—time bent, and the executioner in front of him froze mid-swing, then shattered into a dust of broken memories.
Zeeler skipped between two more, his staff forming mid-spin in his hands. One side silver, one side void. He caught a blade with the shadow end, flung it wide, then swung the silver—Harmony Disruption, shattering the assassin's leg and dropping him in a heap of flickering selves.
Rythe blinked.
Literally.
His body fractured forward in time, appearing behind the nearest enemy. He touched the man's shoulder gently.
"Forget."
The assassin dropped, screaming silently. Trapped in a loop of lost names.
Another came from the trees—twisting, fast.
Rythe reached up.
And split the sky.
A line of white-hot fracture energy carved down, erasing the assassin in a blink of light and a gust of heat.
Then—
Silence again.
Seven enemies gone.
But the forest still watched.
Zeeler turned to Rythe. "You fractured… time."
Rythe shrugged. "I fracture what listens."
More shadows stirred.
Then the ground cracked.
A new figure emerged—twice the size of a man, covered in shifting armor made from dead timelines. Its chest was hollow. Inside, a core of spiraling black flame pulsed like a beating heart.
"Fractureborn anomaly detected," it said in a voice that wasn't sound.
Zeeler's mark burned.
Rythe raised a brow. "You ever fought a Shardbringer?"
"No," Zeeler said. "You?"
"Once."
"What happened?"
"I died."
Zeeler blinked.
Rythe smirked. "Then fractured back before it happened."
The Shardbringer lunged.
Zeeler and Rythe exploded into motion.
Zeeler fractured right, striking fast—his hands glowing. He sent out Pulse Threads, tiny wires of resonant force. They wrapped the Shardbringer's arm, slowing it—
Only for the creature to twist and shed its own future, dodging the trap.
Rythe appeared on its back, drove both palms into its shoulders.
Time Shatter.
The upper half of the beast glitched—sagging as moments slipped out of sequence.
But it roared and sent out a reality quake, throwing both boys backward.
Zeeler rolled, bleeding from his lip. Rythe skidded and vanished—reappearing behind a tree.
"This one's learning," Rythe muttered.
"It's adapting," Zeeler said. "To us."
Then both reached inward.
And bloomed.
Zeeler's eyes lit—silver and violet.
Rythe's skin cracked with soft golden light.
Together, they rushed.
Zeeler leapt first—his body flickering between three futures. He chose the one where his strike landed—his staff smashing across the beast's core.
Rythe followed—splitting into four selves, each casting a different moment. One whispered a lullaby, one screamed his first memory, one was silent, and the last burned with fracture energy.
They converged.
And slammed into the beast's chest.
Resonant Collapse. Time Spiral. Shadow Unravel.
The creature screamed as its form glitched apart—its armor bleeding light. It reached for them.
Zeeler grabbed Rythe's wrist.
"Now."
Rythe nodded.
They fractured into each other—their powers crossing, combining, twisting.
Light and shadow spun.
The Hollow of Stilllight echoed.
Then—
They struck.
A single pulse.
Fractureborn Unity.
The world inverted.
Silence.
Then—
Boom.
The Shardbringer shattered.
Not exploded. Not broken.
Just… erased.
Like it had never happened.
The trees returned to stillness. The wind breathed again. Far above, the fracture in the sky dimmed.
Zeeler dropped to one knee, panting.
Rythe knelt beside him, bruised but grinning. "That was fun."
Zeeler coughed a laugh. "Your fun's dangerous."
"I'm dangerous."
They looked at each other.
Something passed between them.
Not words. Not power.
Just understanding.
"We're not enemies," Zeeler said.
"No," Rythe agreed. "But soon… we might have to be."
They both stood.
"Why?" Zeeler asked.
Rythe's eyes flicked to the sky. "Because not every Fractureborn wants to save this world."
The wind shifted.
From the distance, other pulses stirred.
Others like them.
Watching.
Waiting.
Zeeler turned his head.
"So what now?"
Rythe smiled faintly. "Now we find out how many of us are left…"
He stepped backward.
And fractured into a mirror of himself.
Gone.
Zeeler stood alone.
But not the same.
Somewhere deep inside, the Stilllight pulsed once more.
And whispered:
"You are not alone in your breaking."