The forest air was heavy with silence. No wind stirred the leaves. The light filtering through the canopy cast dappled patterns on the forest floor, but nothing moved. It was the kind of silence that pressed on Eryn Noctis’ mind—too still, too expectant, like the world was waiting for something to happen.

He pulled the hood of his weathered cloak farther down over his silver hair, hoping to avoid attention. Not that anyone was around to notice—except Eilea, the only person foolish enough to follow him. She trailed a few paces behind, kicking stones with every step.

“You know,” Eilea called, brushing a lock of dark hair from her face. “You could say thanks. I did just save your life.”

Eryn glanced over his shoulder. “From three bandits who were more scared of their own shadows than me?” His golden eyes shimmered faintly under the hood. “They barely even tried.”

“Still,” she huffed, “I did most of the fighting. You didn’t even lift a finger. You could’ve helped.”

Eryn turned back to the path, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. He knew better than to use his power—not unless he wanted more trouble. "I was helping," he muttered. "By staying out of it."

Eilea scoffed. “Right. I guess the legendary strategy of standing still really paid off.”

The banter was light, but Eryn knew she was frustrated. He didn't blame her. She didn’t know what he was capable of. Not really. And it was better that way. He needed to stay off everyone’s radar—keep his head down, disappear. His powers... they never ended well. For anyone.

Ahead, the path curved toward a clearing, and Eryn slowed his pace. Something felt off.

The silence deepened, pressing against his ears like cotton. Birds had vanished. Even the usual forest smells—damp leaves, wood, earth—seemed to have faded, replaced by a strange emptiness. Eryn stopped, a knot forming in his chest.

Eilea bumped into his back. “What now?” she asked, exasperated.

Eryn held up a hand to quiet her. “Something’s wrong.”

The forest answered his unease. The shadows shifted unnaturally, pooling at the base of the trees. A cold breath swept through the clearing—not wind, but something else. Something intentional. And with it came a voice—low and sharp, slicing through the air like a dagger.

“Found you.”

A man stepped into the clearing, his movements deliberate and smooth. He wore dark leather armor, his long black cloak swaying behind him. His eyes gleamed with a predatory light—cold, calculating, and devoid of mercy. Varis Grell had found them.

Eilea’s hand flew to the dagger at her belt. "Who’s that?" she whispered.

Eryn’s lips tightened. “Someone I’ve been trying to avoid.”

Varis smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "You’ve been running for a long time, anomaly. But the hunt always ends the same.” He flicked his hand, and a sleek silver blade slid from his wrist gauntlet.

“I don’t want trouble,” Eryn said quietly. “Leave now, and we’ll forget this happened.”

Varis’ grin widened. "Trouble? You are trouble, Eryn Noctis."

Before Eryn could respond, Varis moved.

The First Strike

The hunter lunged forward with impossible speed, his blade flashing toward Eryn’s throat. Eryn stepped back on instinct, his mind screaming at him to stay calm. Do not use your power. But Varis was fast—too fast for anyone normal.

Steel arced through the air. Eilea shouted a warning, but Eryn didn’t need it. Time seemed to slow for him as it always did in moments like this. The blade sang through the space where his head had been a fraction of a second earlier as he twisted aside.

Another slice. Closer this time. Eryn could see the reflection of his own golden eyes in the polished surface of the hunter’s blade.

Eilea lunged from the side, dagger flashing toward Varis' ribs, but the hunter twisted with supernatural grace. He deflected her strike with a single motion, sending her sprawling into the dirt.

“Stay back!” Eryn snapped, panic edging his voice.

Eilea coughed, glaring at him. "And let you stand there doing nothing again?"

Varis circled slowly, blade in hand, watching Eryn with a predator’s patience. “I know what you are,” the hunter murmured. "I know what you're trying to hide. But it won’t work on me, anomaly.”

Eryn’s jaw tightened. He could feel his power stirring—like a storm beneath his skin, waiting to break free. But he kept it locked down, forcing the pressure back into himself.

“Walk away,” Eryn said quietly. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

Varis chuckled. “Oh, I know exactly what I’m dealing with.” His eyes darkened. “That’s why I’m going to kill you before you remember who you are.”

The Breaking Point

Varis struck again, faster this time. A blur of metal and shadow. Eryn dodged, barely keeping ahead of the blade. But Varis wasn’t trying to kill him just yet—he was toying with him, testing his limits.

Eryn felt the pressure building—his control slipping. Every instinct screamed at him to release the power inside, to end the fight in a single breath. He didn’t want to fight. He didn’t want to hurt anyone.

But Varis wasn’t giving him a choice.

The next strike came too fast. Eryn’s body moved on reflex, twisting to avoid a killing blow—but he miscalculated. The blade grazed his shoulder, slicing through fabric and skin. Blood welled from the cut.

Pain bloomed—and with it, something darker. Something unstoppable.

The world blurred at the edges. The storm inside him broke loose.

Unleashing the Power

Eryn didn’t mean to do it. One moment, he was holding everything back; the next, reality rippled outward from him in an invisible wave.

The clearing froze—time grinding to a halt. The leaves that had been falling from the trees now hovered midair, suspended. Eilea, lying on the ground, seemed trapped in a moment of stillness, her expression locked in surprise.

And Varis...

Varis stumbled, his eyes widening as he realized too late what was happening. “No—”

Eryn reached out with his mind, and the blade in Varis’ hand vanished—not broken, not destroyed, but erased, as if it had never existed. The hunter stared at his empty hand, disbelief flickering across his face.

“This is what I was trying to avoid,” Eryn whispered, his voice hollow.

He raised his hand, and the ground beneath Varis cracked, fracturing into jagged shards of nothingness. Space folded inward, threatening to swallow the hunter whole.

Varis staggered back, fear flashing in his eyes for the first time. “You—you're not supposed to exist.”

“I know,” Eryn whispered.

But before the void could claim Varis, Eilea’s voice cut through the frozen moment like a knife.

“Eryn! Stop!”

Her voice jolted him—dragging him back from the edge. The cracks in the earth sealed themselves, and the flow of time resumed.

Varis stumbled, panting, his face pale with shock. "This... isn’t over," he spat, retreating into the shadows of the forest. “You’ll wish you’d killed me.”

Eryn let him go, the storm inside him slowly receding.

Aftermath

Eilea got to her feet, brushing dirt from her clothes. She stared at Eryn, her expression a mix of confusion and anger. “What the hell was that?”

Eryn looked away, his golden eyes dimming to a dull amber. “Something I shouldn’t have done.”

“You just—” She gestured helplessly at the empty space where Varis had stood. “You erased his weapon! You cracked the ground like it was glass! You could have—”

“I know.” Eryn’s voice was low, filled with regret.

Eilea crossed her arms. “So... what now? Are we going to pretend none of that just happened?”

Eryn sighed. “We keep moving. Before he comes back.”

Eilea hesitated, then followed as Eryn started walking again. “Next time,” she muttered, “try using that power before someone nearly kills you.”

Eryn didn’t answer. He knew the next time might be worse.

And so they walked deeper into the forest, leaving behind the broken clearing—and the first ripple of a storm that was only just beginning.

The world around Eryn Noctis felt like a muted echo. He drifted through the hazy forest path, eyes fixed forward, mind somewhere far beyond Yrlith’s fading dusk. Trees stretched upward like dark spires, the silence broken only by the sound of his own footsteps. Eryn barely registered them, each step weighed down by an emptiness as deep as the gathering shadows.

But he was not alone. Beside him walked Eilea, her gaze shifting curiously from the dirt path to his face. She was a light against his shadows, but the contrast only deepened the ache within him.

“Eryn, are you even here right now?” Eilea asked with a teasing smile, nudging him lightly. “Or are you off in some other realm again?”

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, Eryn didn’t respond. His gaze lingered on a point in the distance, mind churning with thoughts he couldn’t quite articulate.

“Why do you stay with me, Eilea?” he asked abruptly, his voice quieter than he intended.

Eilea’s laughter trailed off, and she looked at him with a gentle but intense gaze, as if searching for the source of his question. “Why not? It’s not like I have a grand plan or anything. I think… I stay because there’s more to you than you let on. You may try to keep everyone out, but I can tell you care, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

Eryn’s gaze dropped. “Care? Eilea, I…” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “You’re wrong. I’ve erased people from this world without so much as a thought. Just today, I erased a man—a bandit—because he got in my way.”

A chill silence settled between them, and Eryn waited, almost daring her to look at him with the disgust he knew he deserved. But Eilea’s face softened, and she merely sighed.

“Did he threaten you?”

“No.” Eryn’s jaw clenched, and he stared at his hands, fists clenched at his sides. “He did nothing but inconvenience me. And so, I erased him. No memory, no existence. He’s gone as if he never was.”

To his surprise, Eilea’s expression didn’t shift to judgment or fear. She simply nodded, taking in his words with a somber understanding.

“You know… it’s easy to see you as just a shadow,” Eilea said softly. “But I see someone who’s lost, who’s buried himself under his own power. You can’t just let yourself be empty, Eryn. There’s more to living than merely existing.”

“Living…” Eryn repeated the word as though it were foreign. “What does that mean for someone like me? I can erase, change, alter anything I want. What’s left to do once everything’s within reach?”

Before Eilea could answer, a rustle came from behind them, a sound sharp against the silence of the forest. In an instant, Eryn’s focus shifted. The air grew taut, his senses sharpening. From the shadows, three men emerged—rough, hardened, their weapons glinting in the fading light.

“Well, what do we have here?” The largest of the men sneered, his gaze lingering on Eilea. “A couple of wanderers, eh?”

Eryn’s eyes narrowed, and he positioned himself subtly in front of Eilea, his hand twitching as he felt the familiar hum of power simmering beneath his skin. These men were nothing more than nuisances, easily erased, easily forgotten.

“Turn around. Leave us,” Eryn said, his voice steady but cold. “Or you’ll cease to exist.”

The men laughed, a harsh, mocking sound that grated against his ears.

“Oh, we’re so scared,” one of them jeered, stepping closer. “What are you gonna do, ‘erase’ us? You think we’re fools?”

The words stung, not because of the threat but because of how simple it would be to make them disappear. With a single thought, he could erase each of them from existence without a trace, leaving nothing but empty space in their wake.

Eilea’s hand touched his shoulder. “Eryn… please.”

He turned, her eyes pleading. “Let’s not—just… let’s go around them.”

But as she spoke, one of the men reached for her, a rough hand grabbing her arm.

Without thinking, Eryn’s entire being surged with power. His mind, trained in control, opened like a floodgate, and he didn’t bother to stop it. Reality bent around his will, the world becoming a thin sheet of existence he could cut through like paper.

“No!” he snapped, his voice a command that vibrated through the air. Time itself seemed to waver, and the man’s hand froze mid-motion, suspended in Eryn’s grasp on reality.

One thought, and the man would be gone.

“You’ll regret this,” he murmured, his voice calm, almost too calm, as he raised his hand. But the power he held, the annihilation he wielded, felt strangely hollow, like something he barely cared to use.

Eilea’s voice, soft but urgent, cut through his focus. “Eryn, stop!”

His hand trembled, and he turned to her, seeing the fear in her eyes—not for herself, but for him. It was as if she saw through the power, through the empty space he had surrounded himself with.

“Eryn, if you erase him… it won’t solve anything. It won’t make you feel any better. Please… don’t give into this emptiness.”

A shadow of conflict flickered in Eryn’s gaze, his resolve wavering. He released his hold, and reality snapped back into place, the man stumbling forward, gasping as though he’d been held underwater.

Eryn’s voice dropped to a chilling whisper. “Leave. Now.”

The men didn’t need any more encouragement. They stumbled back, disappearing into the forest without another word, their bravado shattered.

Eilea let out a slow breath. “Thank you, Eryn.”

He avoided her gaze, his hands trembling as the power within him simmered back down. “I could’ve ended them with a thought, Eilea. I could’ve… erased them like they never existed. You don’t understand what that means.”

“Maybe I don’t,” she admitted, her voice soft. “But I know what I see. I see a person who feels too much and hides it behind power because he’s afraid.”

“Afraid?” He laughed, a hollow, bitter sound. “There’s nothing left for me to be afraid of. I can change anything I want, be anywhere I wish. What else could I fear?”

Eilea stepped closer, her eyes unwavering. “You fear yourself, Eryn. Because the power to erase… it’s not as powerful as the courage to live without needing that power. You’re afraid of facing what’s left if you can’t rely on your abilities.”

Eryn stared at her, words caught in his throat. Part of him wanted to argue, to tell her she was wrong. But a deeper part, buried and long ignored, knew she was right. He had locked himself in his own fortress of apathy, barricading himself from meaning, from the ache of hope and disappointment.

They walked in silence for a while, the forest path winding back to the village. He could feel the weight of her presence, as though her words had carved cracks in his defenses, allowing slivers of light to pierce through. He felt her kindness like a tangible warmth in the air, reaching out to him without expectation.

As they entered the village, Eilea glanced over at him, her face softened in a smile. “Eryn, what would you say if I told you that even with all your power… you could still find peace? Even if you let go?”

Eryn blinked, surprised by the question. “Peace? What do you mean?”

“I mean, maybe power isn’t the answer. Maybe letting go, letting yourself feel again, is.”

He looked away, uncertainty gnawing at him. Could he do that? Could he find meaning beyond power, beyond the empty vastness of his own abilities? As they parted ways for the night, Eryn couldn’t shake her words. They lingered, filling the silence of his small room, embedding themselves like a soft hum in the back of his mind.

That night, for the first time in years, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to simply be—without purpose, without control. And though the emptiness remained, there was something new alongside it. A flicker of warmth, an echo of hope, too fragile to name but enough to shift the weight within him.

Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t alone in this after all.

The morning mist clung to the forest, draping the trees in a pale, eerie veil as Eryn and Eilea moved through the silent woods. It was early, the world around them still sleepy, the earth damp from a passing rain. Eryn had not spoken much since the encounter with the bandits; his usual detachment had deepened into a silence that left Eilea uneasy, yet she kept close, watching him with quiet patience.

Suddenly, the mist thickened, twisting into strange shapes that wove through the trees. Eryn paused, feeling a faint tremor in the air, something almost alive threading through the fog. A chill traced down his spine, a sensation he’d nearly forgotten.

Then, from the shadows, a small, lithe figure appeared.

A girl stood a few feet away, barely visible through the fog, her face framed by loose curls of dark hair, her eyes wide and knowing. She was no older than seven, dressed in simple, tattered clothes, but her gaze held a depth that seemed timeless, like a river cutting through ancient rock.

“Nira…” Eryn breathed, instinctively aware of her identity, though he didn’t know how. Something about her felt painfully familiar, like a forgotten dream resurfacing.

Eilea glanced from Eryn to the child, sensing the strange tension between them. “Do you… know her?”

The child didn’t answer, but instead stepped forward, her bare feet soundless against the damp forest floor. “Eryn,” she murmured, her voice barely more than a whisper, yet it rippled through the air like the toll of a bell. “You’ve forgotten so much. Would you like to remember?”

Eryn felt an involuntary shiver. “Why are you here, Nira?”

“To help you, silly,” she said with an innocent smile, though her eyes were dark and ancient. “You locked away so many things, and now they’re coming back, bit by bit. But memories are funny things… they change everything when they return.”

Before he could answer, Nira raised a small hand, and the fog around her swirled, coiling like mist caught in a storm. Suddenly, Eryn felt a jolt, like a key turning in a lock deep within him. Shadows shifted in his mind, and in an instant, memories began to resurface.

He staggered, clutching his head as the fragments crashed through him—faces, voices, moments from his past emerging all at once.

He was standing on a cliff overlooking a vast, crumbling city. The wind whipped around him, carrying the scent of ash. Beside him was a figure, half shrouded in darkness, a presence both familiar and terrifying. The figure spoke, its voice echoing, soft and cold.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it? A world where you could shape everything to your will.”

Eryn watched, horrified, as the city below twisted, buildings collapsing, the ground splitting open as the figure raised a hand.

“I gave you the power to change anything,” the figure continued, its voice soft and mocking. “But you couldn’t handle the cost.”

The memory ended abruptly, and Eryn gasped, feeling his body tremble. The trees around him blurred and flickered, as if reality itself were straining, struggling to hold onto form. He steadied himself, trying to push back the visions clawing at his mind, but it was no use.

“Nira…” he managed, his voice strained. “What did you do?”

Nira tilted her head, watching him with a look of pure innocence. “I only gave back what you lost. But your memories… they’re part of the world, Eryn. When they come back, they change things.”

As she spoke, the forest around them continued to warp. The ground beneath his feet shifted, as if an invisible force was reshaping it. Trees bent at impossible angles, leaves withering and regrowing, their colors shifting from green to gray.

Eilea, sensing the change, reached for his arm. “Eryn, what’s happening?”

He shook his head, too dazed to answer. The fragments of his past were slipping through his fingers, moments from another life returning with a force that left him shaken. Each memory brought a surge of energy, raw and chaotic, spilling out into the world.

“Nira…” he said, struggling to steady his thoughts. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because it’s the only way you’ll understand,” she replied, her voice soft but firm. “You’re more than just an anomaly, Eryn. You were… meant for something.”

Eryn felt another wave crash through him, and he saw himself in a different place, a vast hall lined with stone pillars, ancient symbols etched into the walls. He recognized it—a place from his past, though he had no memory of how he’d arrived there. In this memory, he was standing before an altar, a strange, pulsing stone in his hands, its energy radiating like a heartbeat.

The figure from before was there as well, its face obscured, its presence filling the hall with an oppressive weight.

“If you take this power, you will never return to the life you once knew,” the figure warned, though its tone held a note of satisfaction. “You will be free from every law, every boundary. But you will know only solitude.”

In the memory, Eryn hesitated, but then, with a grim determination, he reached forward, placing his hand on the stone.

Reality shattered.

The memory ended with a sickening lurch, and Eryn staggered, barely able to keep his balance as the world around him twisted once more. The trees bent and stretched, the air rippling as if a storm had passed through.

Eilea held his arm tightly, her face pale. “Eryn, are you all right?”

He looked at her, his vision still blurred from the onslaught of memories. “No,” he whispered, the weight of his past pressing down on him like a thousand stones. “I don’t… I don’t think I’m all right.”

Nira watched him calmly, her gaze far too knowing for a child. “Every memory you locked away is tied to this world, Eryn. When you remember, you change the past… and the present.”

He stared at her, barely comprehending. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you’re not the only one with forgotten power,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Others are remembering too. And if you don’t, they’ll shape the world in ways you can’t even imagine.”

Eryn felt a chill crawl down his spine. He had thought he was alone, a solitary anomaly in a world that could barely hold him. But now, with these fragments returning, he saw the truth. Others like him existed, and they too carried pieces of a broken past.

Eilea’s voice brought him back to the present. “Eryn, I don’t understand what’s happening, but… whatever you’re remembering, you don’t have to face it alone.”

He looked at her, his gaze softening. But before he could respond, the ground beneath them trembled, and a jagged tear appeared, ripping through the earth with a force that shook the trees.

Nira stepped back, her gaze fixed on the rupture. “The past isn’t a place you can simply visit,” she said softly. “It’s a shadow that follows you.”

Eryn took a step forward, staring into the darkness of the crack, his heart pounding. This tear was more than just a shift in the earth; it was a doorway, a passage into something older and far darker than he had anticipated.

“Eryn…” Eilea whispered, her hand on his arm. “What are you going to do?”

He took a breath, steadying himself. The weight of his memories was heavy, crushing even, but in that weight, he felt a strange kind of purpose emerging. There was something here, something he needed to remember, something buried deep within this fractured world.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, glancing back at her. “But whatever’s waiting for me… I have to face it.”

Nira’s gaze held his, her expression calm and knowing. “Then I’ll guide you, Eryn. But be warned—there’s no going back.”

With a last glance at Eilea, he took a step forward, feeling the darkness of the tear wrap around him, pulling him deeper into the unknown, into the forgotten fragments of his own power.