Chapter 17: Whispers

The Void within him had held him together—redirecting the chaotic forces into something resembling stability. 

The Void entity shifted closer to the anomaly it now observed. Elias Varian was not just *different*—he was *impossible*. His existence defied the very fabric of the realms the Void oversaw. A mortal, altered by Void energy, who had not shattered or dissolved but *persisted*. 

The Void entity contemplated him with what might have been considered curiosity if it had the same emotions as mortals. What made this being special? And, perhaps more unsettling, why was the Voidstorm so drawn to him, as though Elias were a magnet for its boundless hunger? 

The training field had become Elias's second home. Over the past week, Caedric's relentless supervision and Lyara's sharp observations had pushed him to the edge of endurance—physically and mentally. His days were a blur of exhausting repetitions, each designed to keep the Void within him from spiraling out of control. 

Today was no different. 

"Focus, Elias," Caedric commanded, leaning on his staff like a watchful sentinel. "The Void is not your enemy. It is a storm—you do not fight the wind; you guide it." 

"Easy for you to say," Elias muttered under his breath, a faint shimmer of shadows flickering around his hands. "You're not the one trying to stop a Void bomb from detonating inside you." 

Caedric's piercing gaze silenced any further complaints. 

Elias inhaled deeply, closing his eyes. The dark mass within his chest—the Void Core—pulsed erratically. Its whispers had grown quieter over the week, but they were never entirely gone. Stretching out his hands, Elias let the Void trickle outward through his body, visualizing it as a river, not a flood. 

At first, the energy obeyed, flowing in smooth tendrils. Black mist swirled around his arms, coiling and flickering like smoke caught in a breeze. His breathing steadied. 

"Good," Caedric said from a distance. "Now, contain it." 

Elias gritted his teeth. Containment was the hardest part. The Void wasn't a gentle force—it was predatory, constantly resisting his attempts to bind it. Sweat dripped down his face as the tendrils began to tighten around his fingers, forming a small orb of concentrated darkness that pulsed faintly. 

But then the energy shifted. 

The orb destabilized, bursting outward with a sharp snap. Elias was thrown backward, hitting the ground hard. The clearing around him was scorched in a circle, the moss blackened and smoldering. 

"Again," Caedric said, his tone unyielding. 

Elias groaned, rubbing his shoulder as he sat up. "Seriously? Let me catch my breath." 

"No time for that," Caedric replied. "The Void doesn't wait for you to rest. It will consume you the moment you falter. Now, again." 

As the week had progressed, Elias had managed small victories. He no longer collapsed after every attempt to channel the Void, and his control had improved enough to create lasting constructs from the energy. But the toll it took on him was undeniable. 

He sat by the village creek that evening, nursing a faint ache in his chest. Lyara joined him, her usual smirk in place. 

"You don't look as bad as you did on day one," she teased, sitting cross-legged beside him. 

"And here I thought I was hiding it well," Elias replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips. 

Lyara leaned back on her palms, gazing at the water. "You're getting better. The villagers have noticed. They're still scared of you, obviously, but… less so now." 

"Good to know I'm not the resident boogeyman anymore," Elias said dryly. 

Lyara's expression softened slightly. "They're just cautious. The Void isn't something you mess with. It's…" She paused, choosing her words carefully. "It's not *evil,* but it's dangerous. People here have lost a lot to it." 

Elias nodded, not meeting her gaze. "Yeah. I get that." 

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The sound of the creek filled the silence, its soft gurgle oddly soothing. 

"You're pushing yourself too hard," Lyara said finally. 

"I don't have much of a choice," Elias replied. 

"You always have a choice," she countered. "You just refuse to take it." 

Her words lingered in the air, but Elias didn't respond. He wasn't sure how to explain the gnawing urgency he felt—the sense that if he didn't push himself, something terrible would happen. 

That night, Elias dreamed. 

Or at least, he thought it was a dream. 

He stood in a vast, endless expanse of black and violet, the ground beneath him shimmering like liquid obsidian. The air—or whatever passed for air in this place—was heavy, pressing against his skin as though the world itself was alive. 

And then he saw it. 

The Voidstorm. 

It loomed in the distance, a swirling mass of chaos and malice. Tendrils of darkness lashed out from its core, consuming everything they touched. It was a storm, but it was also alive—aware. And it was looking at him. 

*"You…"* 

The voice echoed through the void, layered and resonant. It wasn't a voice—it was a presence, vast and incomprehensible. 

*"You are… seen."* 

Elias stumbled backward, clutching his chest as the Void Core pulsed violently. "What do you want from me?" he shouted into the abyss. 

The storm didn't answer. But its tendrils began to shift, moving toward him with deliberate intent. The world around him trembled, the weight of the Void crashing down on him like a tidal wave. 

And then he woke. 

His breathing was ragged, his chest heaving as he clutched at the Core. It was steady again, its pulse faint but constant. But the memory of the storm lingered in his mind, its whispers echoing in the back of his thoughts. 

Over the following days, Elias found himself spending more time with Lyara. Though their interactions were often laced with sarcasm and teasing, there was an unspoken camaraderie that began to emerge. 

During one training session, Lyara approached him as he struggled to contain another Void construct. 

"You're gripping it too tightly," she said, leaning against a tree. 

"I thought the whole point was control," Elias grunted. 

"Control doesn't mean squeezing the life out of it," she replied. "It's like holding a blade in a fight. Too tight, and you'll cramp up. Too loose, and you'll drop it. The trick is finding that balance." 

Elias sighed, adjusting his stance. "You make it sound so easy." 

Lyara smirked. "It's not. But you've got the stubbornness for it." 

"Thanks, I think," Elias muttered, focusing on the Void energy flickering in his hands. 

That evening, after another grueling day, Elias and Lyara sat on a small hill overlooking Ashen Veil. The village lights flickered faintly below, and the stars above shone brightly against the dark canopy of the forest. 

"You ever think about leaving?" Elias asked suddenly. 

Lyara raised an eyebrow. "Leaving? Where would I go?" 

"Anywhere," Elias said. "The world's big enough, isn't it?" 

She laughed softly. "Not for me. Ashen Veil is… it's home. It's safe." 

Elias nodded slowly. "I guess I don't really have a home anymore." 

Lyara glanced at him, her expression softening. "Maybe you need to stop looking for one and start building one." 

Her words struck a chord, though Elias didn't respond. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt something close to peace.