Chapter 115 The Eye of the Storm
The third wave hit like a confession.
Void constructs poured from the sky; their bodies stitched from broken memories and raw magic. They didn’t scream this time. They whispered. Every word was a regret Milo had buried, and the Void had exhumed.
“I should’ve died instead of Talon.”
“Mo deserved better.”
“I was never enough.”
Each whisper was a blade.
Thessa gritted her teeth and hurled a wall of flame. “I swear, if one more shadow tells me Milo hates himself, I’m setting his subconscious on fire.”
Kael spun through the air, slicing two constructs mid-leap. “You already did that.”
“Then I’ll do it again,” she snapped.
Kael quickly raised his hands in a placating gesture while quickly backing away and continuing to fight further from Thessa.
Lira conjured a hurricane of burning sigils. “This is what happens when you bottle your feelings for too long. You drown in a guilt storm.”
Zeke ducked under a construct’s swipe. “I’m starting to think Milo’s trauma has trauma. Also did anyone pack the snacks?”
Yuel stabbed a shadow through the chest. “This one just whispered, ‘I miss my cat.’ Did Milo have a cat? I miss those furry little Himalayan fur goblins as well.”
Ellira, still sketching runes mid-battle like it was a casual hobby, nodded. “Briefly. It ran away during the Rift incident. It was a stray that liked him.”
“Smart cat,” Zeke muttered.
Aine stood at the center of the chaos, her light pulsing outward in waves. Every time a construct got too close, it dissolved into mist. She didn’t speak. She didn’t shout. She just was—a calm, steady presence in a storm of madness.
And I?
I was trying not to cry while stabbing a shadow that looked like me.
We regrouped behind a crumbling memory of the palace courtyard. It shimmered with Milo’s time here—his first spell, his first failure, the moment he realized he was different.
Thessa collapsed beside me, panting. “I hate fighting metaphors.”
Kael wiped blood from his cheek. “I hate fighting things that look like my ex.”
Lira raised an eyebrow. “You dated a Void construct?”
“Emotionally, yes,” Kael replied.
Zeke flopped onto the ground. “I think one of them tried to psychoanalyze me mid-punch.”
Yuel sat beside him. “Did it help?”
“No,” Zeke said. “But it made me question my relationship with my father.”
Ellira finished her rune circle and sat cross-legged. “The Void’s reacting to Milo’s thoughts. The more unstable he gets, the more aggressive the constructs become.”
Aine knelt beside me. “He’s spiralling.”
I nodded. “I know.”
She looked at me, her eyes soft. “You still believe in him.”
“I do,” I whispered. “Even when I shouldn’t.”
The wind shifted.
And Milo spoke.
Not aloud.
Not directly.
But through the Void.
“I see you.”
“I remember you.”
“I wish I didn’t.”
Thessa stood. “Okay, rude.”
Kael frowned. “He’s watching us.”
Lira conjured a protective ward. “He’s judging us.”
Zeke raised a hand. “I’d like to formally request less judgment and more therapy.”
Yuel nodded. “Seconded.”
Aine closed her eyes. “He’s not trying to hurt us. He’s trying to push us away.”
Ellira’s runes flared. “He’s scared.”
I stepped forward. “Then we go to him.”
We moved through the Void like ghosts.
The terrain shifted with every step—memories bleeding into nightmares, dreams curdling into regrets. At one point, we passed a version of the palace where Talon was alive and Milo was laughing.
Thessa stopped. “He still wants this.”
Kael touched the illusion. “He can’t have it.”
Lira whispered, “Not without destroying everything else.”
Zeke stared at the scene. “I miss him. I miss the cookies as well.”
Yuel nodded. “We all do. We also all miss the cookies.”
Aine placed a hand on my shoulder. “You’re close.”
I felt it too.
Like a heartbeat beneath the surface.
We reached the center.
A platform of shattered glass and violet flame.
Milo stood there.
Alone.
He looked… tired.
His eyes were pure Void, but his expression was human. Broken. Haunted.
“You came,” he said.
“We never left; we are here fighting for you. We are fighting for you to come back to us.” I replied.
He smiled. It was sad and kind of forced, but it was a smile.
It was the saddest smile I’d ever seen.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to become this.”
Thessa stepped forward. “Then stop. We all struggle, Milo, but this isn’t the way.”
Kael raised his swords. “We’ll fight you if we have to. We will also fight for you.”
Lira conjured flame. “But we’d rather not.”
Zeke held up his grappling hook. “I brought this for dramatic effect.”
Yuel sighed. “It’s not helping.”
Zeke glares at Yuel. “But Milo will like it”
Ellira’s runes glowed. “We can fix this.”
Aine stepped beside me. “You’re not alone, Milo. Look at us, we are here, we are fighting for you.”
He looked at her.
And then at me.
“I wish I believed you,” he said. His eyes turn black as night, and the shadows around him thicken before cloaking his body.
And then the fourth wave hit.
This time, the constructs were us.
Twisted versions.
Thessa, burning with rage.
Kael, bleeding from every regret.
Lira, cold and cruel.
Zeke, laughing manically.
Yuel, silent and broken.
Ellira, lost in her own mind.
Aine, flickering like a dying star.
And me.
A version of me that had given up.
I froze.
Milo watched.
“I didn’t create these,” he said. “The Void did. It knows you. It knows what you fear. It knows that while you act brave, you are really nothing more than holding on by a thread.”
Thessa screamed and hurled flame.
Kael charged.
Lira fought with precision.
Zeke swung wildly.
Yuel moved like a ghost.
Ellira’s runes exploded.
Aine stood her ground.
And I?
I faced myself.
The other Mo looked at me.
“You’ll fail,” she said. “You’ll lose him.”
“I know,” I whispered.
“But you’ll try anyway.”
I nodded.
And stabbed her through the heart.
She dissolved.
And the Void screamed.
The constructs vanished.
The platform cracked.
Milo fell to his knees.
“I don’t want to be this,” he said. “But it feels good to not worry, to not regret.”
Aine knelt beside him. “Then let us help.”
He looked at me.
“I’m scared.”
“I am too,” I said.
He reached out.
And the Void surged.