Chapter 111 The Smile Before the Storm
Aine says healing takes time. Grieving takes time; everything apparently takes time.
Which is ironic, because time is exactly what Milo keeps unravelling like a badly knitted scarf. One minute, we’re in the village of Virell’s Hollow, trying to repair the ley lines. Next, the sun is rising backwards, and the chickens are speaking in rhymed couplets.
Zeke tried to argue with one. He lost.
“I don’t care what your existential poultry philosophy is,” he snapped. “You still pecked me.”
Yuel didn’t help the situation by teasing the chicken.
The chicken replied, “Your soul is weak, your mind is thin. I peck again, and I shall win.” Watching the chicken dart forward and try to attack Zeke again gave everyone a moment of laughter that was desperately needed.
Thessa threw a fireball at it. It dodged.
“I hate this place,” she muttered.
“You hate every place,” Kael said, inspecting his sword for Void corrosion. “You hated the palace. You hated the Rift. You hated the Queen’s birthday cake.”
“It was dry,” Thessa snapped.
“It was symbolic,” Lira added. “Like her reign. Crumbly and tasteless.”
Ellira didn’t look up from her map. “Can we focus? Milo’s Void aura is destabilizing the village’s protective wards. If we don’t fix it, the entire town will collapse into a paradox loop where everyone’s stuck reliving their worst breakup.”
Yuel groaned. “I’m not emotionally prepared to see my ex again. She still owes me a sword.”
Aine, as always, remained calm. She stood at the edge of the village square, her hands glowing with soft light, watching Milo as he sat beneath the old statue of Lady Virellian.
He was back again; it's as if he disappears for a few hours before resurfacing and brooding.
He hadn’t spoken in hours.
Not to us.
Not to himself.
He just stared at the statue, as if it held the answer to a question he couldn’t remember asking.
I sat beside Aine, watching her watch him.
“You think he’s still in there?” I asked.
She nodded slowly. “The Void is loud. But Milo’s heart is louder. He just doesn’t know how to listen to it anymore.”
“He destroyed the ley lines,” I said. “He rewrote Talon out of history. He made Zeke’s eyebrows vanish.”
“I’m still bitter,” Zeke called from behind us.
Aine smiled. “He’s hurting. And when people hurt, they lash out. Especially when they think they’re beyond saving.”
I looked at Milo.
He was humming now.
A tune I recognized.
It was the lullaby Talon used to sing when we couldn’t sleep after missions. Off-key. Terrible. But comforting.
“He remembers,” I whispered.
“Yes,” Aine said. “But memory isn’t enough. He needs to forgive himself.”
We tried.
Gods, we tried.
Thessa built a containment ward around the village. Lira summoned ancestral flame to purify the ley lines. Kael and Ellira rerouted the energy flow through the old temple ruins. Yuel and Zeke distracted the Void anomalies by pretending to be emotionally available.
It worked disturbingly well.
“I think I’m in love,” one anomaly whispered to Zeke.
“I get that a lot,” he replied, dodging a tentacle made of regret.
Meanwhile, Aine and I approached Milo.
He looked up as we neared, eyes swirling with Void.
“I remember Talon,” he said. “I remember his laugh. His stupid jokes. The way he always stood in front of me when things got bad.”
“He loved you,” I said.
“I know,” Milo whispered. “And I failed him.”
“No,” Aine said gently. “You’re still here. That means you haven’t failed.”
Milo looked at her.
Really looked.
And for a moment, the Void flickered.
“I want to be good,” he said.
“You are,” Aine replied.
And then the sky cracked.
It started with a whisper.
A ripple in the air.
Then the statue of Lady Virellian exploded.
Milo stood, eyes wide, hands trembling.
“I didn’t mean to,” he said.
“Wait, you did that?” I say, pointing to the statue that used to stand, now nothing more than rubble.
But the Void didn’t care.
It surged from him like a tidal wave, swallowing the square in violet flame. The containment ward shattered. The ley lines screamed. The villagers ran, but the ground twisted beneath them, turning into mirrors that reflected their worst fears.
Thessa tried to hold the barrier.
It broke.
Kael charged at Milo.
He was thrown back, bleeding.
Ellira screamed as the temple collapsed.
Yuel and Zeke vanished into the smoke.
And Aine stood her ground.
“Milo,” she said, voice steady. “You can stop this.”
He looked at me.
And smiled.
“I don’t want to.”
The village burned.
Not only with fire.
But with black shadows and memories of despair.
Homes turned into burning fragments of forgotten dreams. Trees became shadows of choices never made. The air was thick with regret and sorrow, and the sound of laughter that didn’t belong to anyone.
I stood in the center of it all, frozen.
Milo walked toward me.
His eyes were pure Void.
His smile was gentle.
“I’m sorry, Mo,” he said. “But I’m tired of pretending. Power is the best medicine when you are sad, and guess what, Mo. I am sad, and I am going to enjoy my power.”
“You’re not this,” I whispered. “You’re not a monster.”
He tilted his head. “Aren’t I? Look around, Mo, everything that is happening or has happened is because of me, and you know what… Let me tell you a secret, this is because of me and you.”
“It’s not, you're not this. We all believe that you are in there and that the void doesn’t own you. Why are you giving
And then he waved.
A casual, almost cheerful gesture.
“Tell Aine she was wrong,” he said. “Some things can’t be healed.”
And then he vanished.
Into thin air.
I stood there.
Crying.
Shocked.
Speechless.
The village was gone.
Just… gone.
Ashes and echoes.
And Milo’s smile burned behind my eyes like a curse, a promise of what he was capable of and a promise of what was to come.