Chapter 7

Chapter 7: The Way Forward

The cold dawn broke over the wasteland, its light weak and hazy. Arlen sat perched on the edge of the settlement’s crude barricade, her legs dangling over the edge. She hadn’t slept. Shadows clung to her eyes like bruises, and her arm still pulsed faintly with the shard’s energy.

The villagers avoided her now, scuttling past with hurried steps and muttered prayers as if she were some kind of specter. She couldn’t blame them. The glow of her arm and the hardened look in her eyes made her feel like a stranger in her own skin.

“You can’t stay here,” the shard whispered, its tone soft this time, almost coaxing. “*They’ll never accept you. You don’t belong in places like this.*”

Arlen’s fingers curled tightly around the shard embedded in her arm. She could feel its pulse beneath her skin, a steady rhythm that felt eerily like a heartbeat.

“And where do I belong?” she asked bitterly.

“*You’ve already seen it**,” the shard murmured. “Out there. In the wasteland. The power you’ve gained—what you’ve done—it’s proof that you’re capable of more. That you’re destined*** for more. Staying here is a waste of what you’ve become.”

Arlen frowned, staring out at the horizon. The endless expanse of ash and ruin stretched before her, a brutal reminder of the world she lived in. She thought of the scavengers she had killed, the lives she had taken in her quest to survive.

“I didn’t want to kill them,” she said softly, her voice trembling.

“*But you did. And you survived because of it*.”

The shard’s words struck a chord deep within her, a truth she couldn’t deny. Her grip on the barricade tightened, her knuckles turning white.

“They weren’t evil,” she whispered. “They were just trying to live.”

“*And they would have killed you to do it. Don’t fool yourself, Arlen. This world isn’t kind. Mercy is a luxury you can’t afford. You said you wanted purpose. You said you wanted to mean something. The only way to do that is to keep moving forward, *no matter the cost.”

The shard’s voice followed her as she descended from the barricade and wandered back into the settlement. The villagers’ whispers had returned, their mistrust crackling in the air like static. She felt their eyes on her, their judgment suffocating.

An old man sat hunched by a fire, his skeletal hands trembling as he clutched a bowl of thin soup. He looked up at her as she passed, his eyes wide with fear.

She froze. For a moment, she saw herself in his frailty—weak, powerless, begging for scraps from a world that had long since turned its back on her.

“You could help them,” the shard said suddenly, its tone almost kind.

“How?” she asked aloud, her voice bitter. “By leaving before they decide I’m too dangerous to let live?”

“By being what they can’t be,” the shard replied. “*Strong**. Ruthless. You’ve seen it already, haven’t you? This world isn’t built for kindness. It’s built for survival. You can take what you need, shape the world in your image. That’s what they need—a leader who doesn’t flinch. A savior who isn’t afraid to get their hands dirty*.”

The words burrowed into her mind like seeds, planting doubts and possibilities she couldn’t shake. That night, Arlen stood outside the settlement, her eyes scanning the darkened horizon. The villagers had retreated into their homes, their doors and windows barred against the night. The fire had burned low, its embers glowing faintly in the gloom.

The shard pulsed faintly, its glow illuminating the ash beneath her feet. “You don’t have to do this alone,” it whispered, its voice soft and insistent. “We’re connected now. Every step you take, every decision you make, I’ll be there. Guiding you. Protecting you.”

“But what’s the cost?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

“*Does it matter? You’ve already paid it.*”

Her breath hitched. She wanted to argue, to push back against the shard’s logic. But deep down, she knew it was right. She had already crossed lines she never thought she would. What was one more?

She clenched her glowing fist, the energy radiating from it a reminder of the power she now wielded. She thought of the villagers, their fear, their weakness. They couldn’t protect themselves. They couldn’t even look her in the eye.

Maybe she could be something more.

Arlen walked to the edge of the settlement, the shard’s pulse growing stronger with every step. She looked back one last time at the crumbling shacks and the fragile people inside.

She didn’t feel pity anymore. Only resolve.

The shard whispered its final words of the night, its voice cold and sure:

“The world doesn’t need mercy, Arlen. It needs power. It needs you.”

Without another glance, she stepped into the darkness, leaving the settlement—and the last remnants of her humanity—behind.

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