CHAPTER 117. WHAT REMAINS
Chapter 117: What Remains
—What He Makes of Her—
The Throne Plane did not sleep.
It existed in a loop of silence and distant hums—echoes of soul frequencies layered over each other like worn-out symphonies.
Karen Lockwood stood behind the invisible wall.
Breathing steady.
Eyes locked on Cassandra.
She watched helplessly as T`halem knelt over her.
Cassandra had not spoken since waking.
She moved, yes.
Twitched. Moaned.
But her gaze was distant—her soul still cracked.
Her Soul Core remained a ruin.
Fractured past natural repair.
Karen raised a trembling hand against the barrier.
"W-What are you doing to her?"
T`halem didn't answer.
His hands hovered above Cassandra's chest.
Strange threads of energy coiled around his fingers—deep black, etched with purple.
The threads reached inside Cassandra's body.
She flinched—but did not scream.
Karen's voice rose.
"She's in pain! If you're going to fix her, why does it look like you're replacing her?"
T`halem still said nothing.
Karen pounded the barrier.
"Answer me!"
He finally spoke—quietly.
"She was shattered. Beyond the cycle's hold."
"No soul rebirth. No natural repair. No inheritance of form."
He looked at Cassandra—eyes cold, unreadable.
"So I gave her something else."
Karen's voice dropped.
"You're… turning her into one of you."
T`halem didn't nod.
Didn't deny.
Instead, he lifted his hand—and revealed the new core forming above Cassandra's chest.
It wasn't glowing.
It pulsed.
A sphere of compacted soul mass—blackened, but stable. Its surface layered in spiral glyphs. Veins of old abyssal energy moved through it like living memory.
Karen stepped back, unsure.
"That's not Soulborne…"
"It's Dark Soulborne," he finally said.
"But not like the others."
She froze.
His hand pressed the new core into Cassandra's chest.
Her body arched.
Black veins streaked down her arms.
A sudden scream ripped from her throat.
Then—silence.
Her body settled.
Breathing leveled.
Her eyes… opened.
But they were different.
No longer the soft, steel-gray of Cassandra Ikemba.
Now midnight.
Rimmed in crimson.
Karen whispered, "What did you do?"
T`halem stood.
"She belongs to herself. That's more than most can say."
Karen swallowed.
"You said she looked like the Progenitor…"
He looked at her.
"She looked like the pain I once knew. Now she is the answer to a question I never dared ask."
Karen clenched her fists.
"She's not your redemption project."
T`halem gave a small breath.
"Redemption is for those who still believe they were wrong."
Cassandra sat up—slowly.
She looked between the two of them.
Then at her own hands.
She said nothing.
Karen reached toward her, hand pressed to the barrier.
"Cass…?"
Cassandra's gaze lingered on her friend.
Recognition flickered.
She opened her mouth softly.
And her dark and crimson eyes shone.
".... Karen?"
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