Nadine continued quietly. “The problem was that Nox Eternum amplified imbalance.” We all fell silent, mesmerized by her explanation. “The fracture destabilized reality itself,” she continued. “And the consciousness that eventually became the Harrowed One fed on emotional extremes.”
She looked toward Zapharos. “Especially the darker ones.”
Something ancient and grim flickered across the men's expressions.
“The Harrowed One called to rage.” Dravok nodded.
“To grief,” Zapharos added.
“To vengeance,” Thyros murmured.
Nadine nodded. “It fed on those emotions. Strengthened them. Twisted them.” Her voice softened further. “And because the Arkhevari males already carried the greater capacity for destruction…” She hesitated. “They became vulnerable to it.”
Understanding rippled through me slowly. “The darkness wasn’t separate from you,” I realized.
“No,” Zapharos said quietly. “It's part of us.”
“Oookayyy,” Ella dragged the word out as she rubbed her temples. “That still doesn’t exactly help us figure out what to do next.”
No one answered immediately.
The ship hummed softly around us as it cut through the outer edges of Nox Eternum, damaged systems groaning every now and then beneath the strain. Beyond the viewport, darkness churned endlessly, vast and alive.
“So what happened to the females?” Thyros asked again.
His tone was quieter this time. Less sarcastic. More careful. Zapharos seemed to pull himself out of distant memory with visible effort. For a moment he looked ancient in a way I had never seen before.
“They went to Terra Nova before it was expelled from the Celestial Portal.”
“The original plan,” Dravok added softly, “was for the males to strike directly at the Harrowed One’s prime lair.”
“And then follow the females once the darkness was contained,” Zapharos finished.
His expression darkened. “Only Ashera refused to leave.”
Something tightened painfully in my chest.
“She and Caelor were…” Zapharos searched for the words. “The first, perhaps. The prime bond. The strongest among us.”
A strange hush settled over the room.
“Ashera stayed to watch Caelor lead the final assault against the Harrowed One.” His jaw tightened. “Caelor was Praetor of War before me.”
Even Thyros went still at that.
Zapharos’ gaze drifted somewhere far beyond the ship. “He led entire legions into the heart of the darkness.”
Everyone hung on his words, even though all of us, except Thyros, had experienced those memories during the Reconstitution process.
More quietly, Zapharos added, “He was overtaken.”
The words landed heavily.
“Overpowered,” Zapharos continued. “Dragged into the Fire of Darkness.” A flicker of horror moved across Ella’s face as if she were watching it happen in real time. “Where he burned.”
I let out a small gasp, because in my inner eye I watched Cealor too, being dragged by the Darkness into its depths. Straight into the Harrowed One's lair.
The moment the words left his mouth, something pushed against my mind. Not painful. Urgent. A whisper wrapped in unbearable grief.Where he still burns.
