Chapter 109 The Core Beneath the Ashes
I used to think the palace was indestructible.
Even after the Rift tore through Aeloria’s sky like a wound that wouldn’t close, even after Lady Virellian’s final scream shattered the stained glass windows and left the throne room in ruins—I still believed the palace would stand. But now, as I step over scorched marble and shattered sigils, I realize how wrong I was.
The magical core is dying.
Thessa kneels beside the central conduit, her fingers glowing faintly as she tries to coax a response from the dormant crystal. “It’s not just drained,” she mutters. “It’s… rewritten.”
Kael crouches beside her, his brow furrowed. “Rewritten how?”
Thessa doesn’t answer. She doesn’t have to. We all feel it—the wrongness in the air, as if the palace itself is trying to recall a history that never happened.
And I know exactly whose fault that is.
Milo stands at the edge of the chamber, silent. His eyes are darker than they used to be. Not tired. Not haunted. Just… hollow. Like something inside him is watching us through a veil.
He hasn’t spoken since the Rift closed. Not really. Just fragments. Echoes. And when he does speak, it’s like he’s remembering someone else’s life.
I want to scream at him. Shake him. Beg him to come back.
But I don’t. Because Talon wouldn’t have.
Talon would’ve stood between us and whatever Milo is becoming. He would’ve made a joke, probably something sarcastic and wildly inappropriate, and then he would’ve fought like hell to protect us.
But Talon is gone.
And the silence he left behind is louder than anything.
We descend into the palace’s lower sanctum, where the magical core pulses beneath layers of protective wards—or used to. Now, the wards are cracked, flickering like dying stars. The air smells like burnt ozone and old blood.
Ellira leads the way, her flameborn senses guiding us through the maze of collapsed corridors. “The core’s still here,” she says. “But it’s… twisted.”
“Twisted how?” I ask, echoing Kael’s earlier question.
She glances back at me, her eyes glowing faintly. “It remembers a different Aeloria. One where Talon never existed. One where Milo was never chosen by the Flame.”
I stop walking.
“What do you mean, Talon never existed?”
Ellira hesitates. “The Void rewrites. It doesn’t just destroy—it reshapes. Milo’s connection to it is warping reality. Talon’s legacy is unravelling.”
Thessa gasps. “That’s why the wards won’t respond. They’re tied to Talon’s bloodline. If the palace doesn’t remember him…”
“…then it won’t let us in,” Kael finishes grimly.
I feel my chest tighten. Talon wasn’t just our friend. He was the last living heir of the Flamebound line, born in flame, flame DNA running through his veins. The palace recognized him.
And now it doesn’t even know he existed.
We reach the core chamber.
It’s worse than I imagined.
The crystal heart floats in the center of the room, suspended by threads of broken magic. Its light is dim, flickering between gold and violet. The violet is new. Wrong. It pulses like a heartbeat, slow and heavy.
Milo steps forward.
The crystal reacts instantly, flaring with violet light. The walls tremble. The air thickens.
“Milo, stop,” I say, but my voice sounds distant, like I’m underwater.
He turns to me, and for a moment, I see something behind his eyes. Not Milo. Not the boy who used to steal Thessa’s books and argue with Kael about sword techniques.
Something else.
Something ancient.
“I didn’t mean to forget him,” Milo whispers. “But the Void remembers differently.”
The crystal pulses again, and suddenly we’re not alone.
A figure steps from the shadows, cloaked in violet flame. Its face is familiar—too familiar.
It’s Talon.
But not.
His eyes are wrong. His smile is cruel. And the sword he carries is made of pure Void.
“Hello, Mo,” he says. “Miss me?”
We scatter.
Kael draws his blade, Thessa conjures a barrier, and Ellira hurls a bolt of flame, Lira produces water spears—but the figure moves like smoke, dodging everything with ease.
I freeze.
It’s not Talon. I know that. But it looks like him. Sounds like him. And the way he moves—the way he fights—it’s like watching a memory turned inside out.
“Milo!” I shout. “What did you do?”
He doesn’t answer. He’s staring at the figure, eyes wide, lips trembling.
“I didn’t bring him back,” Milo says. “The Void did.”
The figure laughs. “I’m not Talon. I’m what’s left when you forget him.”
Thessa’s barrier shatters. Kael is thrown against the wall. Ellira screams as the figure’s blade grazes her arm. Lira dodges just before a bolt of fire hits her, leaving a trail of violet fire.
I run.
Not away from the core.
If we can restore it, maybe we can push this thing back. Maybe we can remind the palace who Talon really was.
I reach the crystal and press my hands against it.
It’s cold.
So cold.
I close my eyes and think of Talon.
His laugh. His terrible jokes. The way he always stood between us and danger, even when he was scared.
I think of the letter he left me. The one I haven’t read yet. The one I’m too afraid to open.
“I remember you,” I whisper. “Even if the Void doesn’t.”
The crystal flares gold.
The figure screams.
And then everything explodes.
When I wake, the chamber is quiet.
The figure is gone.
The crystal glows gold again, steady and strong.
Milo is kneeling beside me, his face pale.
I flinch away from him. Not trusting this version of him.
Thessa limps over, her arm bleeding. Kael groans from the floor. Ellira is unconscious but breathing. Lira stares at Milo with pure disgust.
We’re alive.
Barely.
But the palace remembers again.
Talon’s legacy is restored.
For now.
Later, as we rest in the shattered throne room, I finally open the letter.
It’s written in Talon’s messy scrawl, full of crossed-out words and sarcastic doodles.
But the message is clear.
Mo,
If you’re reading this, I’m probably dead. Or trapped in a Void dimension. Or turned into a flaming squirrel. Honestly, all three are equally likely.
I just wanted you to know—you’re the heart of this group. Not me. Not Milo. You.
So when things get dark—and they will—remember who you are. And remind Milo, too. He will come back, I trust that you will bring him back.
Also, tell Kael I never liked his sword. Tell Zeke and Yuel that their baking sucks. Tell Thessa that she can be the next protector. As for Lira and Ellira, tell them that their spells need more work.
Love,
Talon
I laugh.
And cry.
And then I look at Milo.
He’s staring at the horizon, where the Rift used to be.
The Void is still inside him.
Still growing.
I have to find a way to save him.
To make him realise that he isn’t the void.
Before the rewritten history becomes our future.