Chapter 6 Echoes of forgotten

The campfire flickered, struggling to hold its fragile light against the cold embrace of the ruined world. Shadows danced along the walls of the collapsed theater where Elias, Lyra, and Callum had chosen to rest. The crumbling remnants of old stage curtains fluttered in the wind, whispering like dying voices.

Elias sat near the embers, fingers curled tightly around his knees, sleep refusing to claim him.

The sky above remained fractured, jagged veins of violet and black stretching into infinity. The shapes beyond the cracks pulsed and shifted, moving in ways that made his stomach turn.

It was like looking at something that shouldn't exist.

Like staring into the end of everything.

Callum had fallen asleep first, exhaustion finally taking him. He lay curled in his jacket, face slack and peaceful in a way that didn't match the weight of grief in his eyes earlier.

Lyra, however, wasn't asleep.

She lay with her back to them, perfectly still, but Elias could see the way her fingers subtly gripped the hilt of her dagger. She was pretending.

He didn't blame her.

Elias exhaled slowly and forced himself to close his eyes.

Then—

Something was wrong.

A slow, creeping dread curled in Elias' stomach as he opened his eyes.

The campfire was out.

The ruins were silent.

And Lyra—

Lyra was sitting by the fire just as before. But something about her was off.

Her hand twitched.

Her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps.

And then—her arm began to vanish.

Elias' stomach lurched. It wasn't cut. It wasn't taken. It simply… ceased to exist.

Her left shoulder dissolved into nothingness, as if reality itself had rejected it. Her fingers crumbled next, then her torso, piece by piece, slowly peeling away into void.

And yet—

She didn't scream.

She didn't even move.

Her eyes were locked onto his, her lips parting slightly, as if she were about to speak.

And then—

She was gone.

Elias' breath hitched. His heartbeat pounded in his skull. He tried to move, tried to stand—but something loomed behind him.

A shadow.

A thing with no shape, no substance, but infinite hunger.

It reached for him—

And Elias screamed.

"Elias!"

His eyes flew open. He was back.

The fire was still burning. Callum and Lyra were staring at him—alive. Whole.

Elias gasped, his chest heaving, his skin clammy with sweat.

"It was—it was just a—"

"A nightmare," Lyra finished, though her voice lacked softness. She studied him carefully, her brow furrowed. "You screamed like something was ripping you apart."

Elias swallowed hard. He could still feel it.

The cold fingers of erasure against his skin.

He forced himself to nod. "Yeah… just a nightmare."

Callum rubbed his face, groggy. "You scared the hell out of me."

Lyra didn't say anything.

But she didn't look away, either.

By morning, they were walking again.

The ruins stretched endlessly before them—twisted steel, fractured roads, buildings that still stood despite their foundations being half-erased.

After an hour of travel, they stumbled upon an abandoned restaurant. Its windows were shattered, the walls blackened from old fires, but it still stood. The faded sign above the entrance read:

"The Golden Ember"

"Maybe there's something left inside," Callum suggested. His voice was hollow, but there was hope in it.

Lyra didn't hesitate. "Let's check it out."

Inside, the air was stale but not completely dead. Wooden tables, though broken, still remained. Glass shards littered the floor.

And most importantly—food.

Callum found a sealed pantry, miraculously untouched. Old cans, dried rations. It wasn't much, but it was enough.

Elias, however, was drawn to something else.

A pile of old diaries stacked near the counter, some half-burned, others intact.

He carefully flipped one open. Handwritten entries. Desperate words. It was a record of the city before the Eclipse.

He scanned through hurried sentences, ink smudged with panic:

"The world is collapsing, but we received word—there is still a city standing."

"A sanctuary, hidden beneath the ruins. The last civilization."

"We have to reach them before it's too late."

Elias' breath hitched.

A city still standing?

Did that mean—humanity hadn't fully fallen?

He turned another page—and then his heart stopped.

There, sketched in ink, were seven familiar faces.

The Seven Heroes. The ones he had written about.

His pulse quickened. He scanned the page, desperate for more. But the details were vague, as if whoever wrote this had only heard rumors.

But if it was true—

If even one of the heroes had survived—

Then maybe they weren't alone after all.

"Elias."

Lyra's voice snapped him from his thoughts.

She was holding something.

A book.

The cover was familiar. The pages were worn, the ink faded—but the title remained:

"The Last Stand of the Seven"

His book. His own writing.

Elias stared at it, cold creeping down his spine.

Lyra flipped through the pages, scanning his words before looking back up at him.

"You wrote this, didn't you?"

Elias hesitated.

"...Yeah."

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Then why don't you remember the factions?"

Elias opened his mouth, but Lyra turned the book over. And there, on the back cover, in faded golden ink—was his name. Written by Elias Valtor.

A chill ran through him.

His own name. On something he should remember.

Something he should know.

But it was like reading a stranger's words.

Like it had been written in another life.

His breathing turned uneven. "I… I don't—"

Then—

"Run."

The voice cut through his mind like a blade.

His stomach twisted.

Lyra frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Run, Elias."

His fingers curled. His instincts screamed. Elias snapped his head toward the entrance. Something was coming.

His breathing turned sharp. He turned back to the others. "We need to go. Now."

Callum blinked. "Why?"

"Run."

Elias grabbed Callum's arm, pulling him up. "No time. MOVE!"

Then—

The air turned cold.

The windows darkened, as if something outside had swallowed the last remnants of light.

And then—the walls began to unravel.

Piece by piece. Like something was peeling the world away.

And then—

The Calamity appeared.

It stepped through the unraveling walls, its body shifting, pulsing, as if it was deciding what shape to take.

Elias' blood ran ice-cold.

Because this one was nothing like the Nullborn.

And as it turned toward them, Elias knew one thing with absolute certainty. This wasn't a fight they could win.