The forest burned blue. Ash swirled in the air like snow made of memory. Zeeler stood at the edge of the clearing, chest rising slow, arms cracked with faint silver light. Beside him, Rythe crouched, her blade humming, hair sticking to her face with sweat. Neither of them moved. Not yet.
Across the blackened earth, the stranger waited.
He looked young. Maybe nineteen. Barefoot. Bare chest. Skin burned in jagged lines—scars that glowed red like lava under skin. His hair was white as bone, falling in messy strands. But it was his eyes that caught them.
Not silver. Not violet.
Both.
At once.
And when he spoke, his voice sounded fractured—like two people speaking over each other.
> "I thought I was the last one."
Zeeler stepped forward, one boot cracking a burnt root. "You're Fractureborn?"
The boy tilted his head. A smile twitched at his lip. "No. I'm what comes after."
The ground rippled.
Flames burst in a ring from the boy's feet, spinning outward—blue, not red. Zeeler pulled Rythe back as the wave roared past, leaving scorched sigils in the dirt.
Then he vanished.
Not teleported. Not stepped.
He flickered.
Zeeler only saw the attack coming because the fracture on his chest pulsed once—a warning.
He fractured backward just as a fist exploded through the air where his head had been, blowing wind and ash into a storm.
Rythe swung—her blade cutting through the smoke—but her target was gone again.
Behind her.
He appeared mid-spin, heel crashing toward her head.
She caught it with her blade, skidding backward, sparks flying. Her boots dug trenches in the earth.
Zeeler reached out, hand glowing—Pulse Snare.
A ring of silver sound burst from his palm, locking space for a second. The boy froze mid-motion, caught inside.
Rythe leapt in, blade reversing.
She aimed for the ribs.
But the boy shattered.
Literally.
His body broke into ash and embers, swirling upward—and reformed behind Zeeler.
> "Not bad."
Zeeler turned too slow.
The punch hit.
White-hot pain tore through his ribs as he was flung backward, smashing through two trees and hitting the ground hard. His cloak flickered in glitchy bursts as he rolled, coughing blood.
Rythe screamed. "ZEELER!"
Her blade lit. Blue-white. Fractured flame ran down the edge.
She dashed—Echo Step—her afterimages flaring as she weaved around the boy in a spiral. She came in low.
He met her with a grin.
Two arms up—flames coating them like molten armor—and they clashed.
Blade met skin. Sparks and sound exploded.
She pressed harder—fractured power bleeding into the steel.
The boy caught the blade with both hands—and smiled wider.
> "You're not him."
He pushed.
A burst of reversed momentum knocked Rythe back, spinning through the air. She caught herself on a tree trunk, but her hand was bleeding. Her blade had cracked.
The boy turned toward Zeeler.
> "You feel it too, don't you?" he said, walking through the smoke. "The bloom. The split inside your blood."
Zeeler rose slow. One hand on his ribs. One hand glowing with silver.
> "Who are you?"
The boy stopped.
> "I'm Kael. I bloomed six months ago. Killed everyone I ever knew. Didn't mean to." He smiled. "Now I learn."
Flames erupted again—this time forming a circle of burning glyphs around his feet.
> "And I teach."
Zeeler fractured forward—skipstep, cloak blurring. He appeared above Kael, hand raised—Resonant Pulse, raw and hot.
Kael met it with a laugh—raising his own hand.
The two blasts collided midair.
The explosion cracked the sky.
Trees folded outward in a dome. Birds fell. Sound vanished for a heartbeat.
Zeeler was hurled back, flipping three times before landing hard.
Kael, still standing, wiped blood from his mouth. His grin now was hungry.
> "Good. You're waking up."
Rythe was already moving. She circled wide, hand weaving—Memory Stitch. Threads of forgotten moments curled around her blade. She slashed midair—sending a whip of silver through the clearing.
Kael caught it—*with his bare fingers.
And pulled.
Rythe was yanked forward—face-first into a fire-coated knee. She fell, coughing, blade tumbling away.
Zeeler's eyes burned.
Enough.
He stood tall.
Both hands spread.
And then—he fractured.
Not in two.
Not three.
But four.
Each version of him blinked in different directions.
Lightform Zeeler moved first—blinding fast, body glowing, fists coated in harmonic flame. He struck Kael in the side, a shockwave flaring out.
Kael twisted, taking the hit—and then drove an elbow backward.
But Shadowform Zeeler was already there—slipping through the ground, sliding up behind and locking Kael's leg with a twist of forgotten time. Kael staggered.
The real Zeeler—centerline—appeared above him, both hands locked on a memory shard.
> "Collapse this," he muttered.
He slammed the shard into Kael's chest.
It pulsed.
Kael's body buckled. Images flooded out—his parents, the fire, the screaming.
For a second—he dropped to one knee.
That's when Rythe struck again.
With her last ounce of strength—she launched her blade, guided by memory threads.
It pierced Kael's shoulder—pinning him to the earth.
He gasped.
Not in pain.
In awakening.
And laughed.
> "YES."
He erupted.
Flames exploded from his back in wings. His eyes snapped wide—now glowing silver and violet like suns.
The ground fractured in a spiral beneath him.
Zeeler backed up, pulling Rythe with him.
Kael stood, blade still in his shoulder, and roared.
> "NOW YOU SEE!"
He raised his arms.
The sky cracked.
Not from magic.
But from resonance—the same bloom Zeeler felt in his own blood. But different. Wilder. Out of tune.
The trees ignited. The glyphs on the ground flared.
Kael's body began to fracture—not die, but shift. His veins glowed with burning memory, his skin cracking with emotion.
> "We're not meant to survive this. We're meant to become what comes next!"
Zeeler stepped forward. His hands shook. But he didn't look afraid.
He looked… understanding.
> "You're broken."
Kael's head tilted.
> "So are you."
They moved.
Clash.
Fist to fist.
Memory to flame.
Their powers cracked the air like thunder made of thought.
Each blow launched shockwaves. Flames and pulses danced around them, colliding midair. Memory shards flew from Zeeler's body, forming shields, blades, and traps. Kael weaved through them like fire given form, his strikes burning without touching.
They were equal.
Fractureborn.
Made of lost things.
Until—
Kael missed.
Just once.
Zeeler caught him.
Two hands on his chest.
> "No more teaching."
Resonant Collapse.
Again.
Point blank.
This time, it wasn't for damage.
It was to remember.
Kael's body lit up—burned in blue and silver light. His scream echoed not in sound—but in shared memory.
He saw Zeeler's pain.
Zeeler saw Kael's.
Both of them shaking.
Both of them… alone.
Kael dropped to his knees.
The flames died.
The crack in the sky faded.
Rythe limped forward, blade back in hand.
> "He done?"
Zeeler nodded, chest heaving. "For now."
Kael didn't speak. His eyes were open. But wet. Distant.
Zeeler stepped closer.
> "You're not what comes after. You're just the same."
Kael looked up.
> "Then what do we become?"
Zeeler offered a hand.
> "Something new."
Kael stared at it.
Then—took it.
Somewhere deep in the forest…
…the fracture pulsed again.
And whispered:
"There are more."