Chapter 8: Echoes of Betrayal

Rain fell in thin, sharp lines across the ruins of the sky temple. The cold wind howled through its hollow pillars, carrying whispers of forgotten battles. Syra stood still, her breath steady, her fingers curled tightly around the hilt of her practice blade. Across from her, Lucian approached through the shadows, dressed in a long black coat, hood low over his face.

He looked every bit the part of a weary uncle—a guardian burdened by war.

But Syra knew better now.

The truth had been unraveling for weeks, ever since her confrontation at Vault IX. The clues Author left behind—scraps of vision, impossible dreams, fragments of someone else's memories—were beginning to make sense. And Riven's report sealed it.

"Lucian was there the day Ares fell. He didn't just witness the betrayal. He orchestrated it."

Her stomach turned.

"You're quiet today," Lucian said, his tone unusually soft. "Something troubling you?"

Syra raised her eyes to meet his. For a moment, she hesitated. Part of her still clung to the man who once held her hand through fire. But the image shattered as quickly as it formed.

"I know," she said.

Lucian's body stiffened. "Know what?"

"That you lied. That you stood over my father's body while I… I did what you made me do."

The wind died. The world narrowed.

Lucian gave no denial. No excuses.

"So… it's true," Syra whispered. Her chest burned. "You used me to kill him."

"He couldn't die," Lucian said. "But he could fall. You were the only one who could make him break."

Syra's blood boiled.

"Why?!" she screamed. "He was your brother!"

Lucian's voice dropped into a whisper. "He was more than a brother. He was a god. And gods don't get to decide fate alone."

Behind Syra, the air shimmered. Riven stepped out from the veil, weapons drawn, eyes narrowed. The half-demon had followed Lucian for days now, gathering proof, preparing for this confrontation.

"You're finished, Lucian," Riven growled. "The truth is out."

Lucian slowly pulled back his hood, revealing tired eyes and a scar down his cheek Syra had never seen before.

"No," he replied, voice almost mournful. "This is just the beginning."

In a flash, he moved—lightning-fast, impossibly precise. His blade met Riven's just inches from Syra's chest. Sparks flew. Syra stumbled back as the two clashed, steel ringing against steel, fire crackling from Riven's palms.

Syra, heart pounding, watched. But then… something pulsed inside her. A memory. No—a command.

Trust no blood. Only your fire.

She clenched her fist and joined the fight, swinging wide, channeling a force she barely understood. Her sword burned with white flame—the same kind her father once wielded.

Lucian faltered for the first time.

"You're waking up," he muttered.

"To the truth," Syra snapped.

Riven landed a hard blow to Lucian's side, sending him skidding back. Breathing heavily, he looked at Syra with something like pride.

"You'll need more than anger to find the Seven," he said.

"We're not after the keys anymore," Riven growled. "We're after justice."

Lucian smirked. "Then kill me."

But Syra hesitated.

Killing him wouldn't bring her father back. It wouldn't undo the manipulation, the loss. But it would make her like him.

"No," she said, lowering her blade. "You're going to live with the consequences."

Lucian's expression darkened, but before he could respond, the ground beneath them rumbled.

A void opened. A ripple in time.

And through it stepped Author.

Clad in black and gold, mask hiding his face, katana sheathed.

The air stilled.

"That's enough for now," Author said, voice calm.

Lucian froze. Even Riven hesitated.

"She's not ready yet," Author added.

Then, to Syra: "But you're close."

With a wave of his hand, time flickered—Lucian vanished in a golden flash, transported away.

"Why did you stop me?" Syra shouted. "He needs to pay!"

Author turned. "He will. But not in this timeline."

She stared at him, panting. "Who are you… really?"

He gave no answer. Instead, he held out a thin, black notebook.

"This story isn't finished," he said. "But it's yours now."

Then he disappeared again—just like always.

Only echoes remained.

And betrayal burned hotter than ever before.