A colossal skeletal figure began to take form, crowned with flame and bone, eyes hollow suns that burned into his mind.
“You’ve awakened the shard… but you have yet to earn it. You carry what was mine. My flame… fragmented… now stirs within you. If you have the potential and will, you will be me one day and carry out the mission I failed.”
“Who are you? Are you the thing inside this Sigil?” Binyamin asked, breath trembling.
“I am what remains. My flame was broken, buried… made myth. Now it leaks through your soul.”
The dreamscape trembled. Behind him, the Inquisitor hovered mid-strike, frozen in crimson crystal. Above, burning skyships rained from the heavens.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
“They feared my power. They cut the sky to stop me. But my ruin is not death. It is a seed.”
“I didn’t ask for this power. I don’t want it,” Binyamin said.
“Then burn with them. Or take the fire… and finish what I could not.”
The skeletal god raised one hand. A blazing construct of the Sigil swirled above, immense and layered with ancient glyphs. Energy surged violently around him, flames roaring, heat pressing against his chest.
Visions flashed:
- Mountains consumed by fire
- Naela screaming
- A golden figure watching through flames
- A throne of ash
- The Sigil splitting apart
Then, silence.
“My other half is now awake… brother,” whispered the god.
Binyamin bolted upright. The Sigil glowed softly. Naela’s worried voice echoed:
“You were talking in your sleep again… sounded like someone else.”
“I saw him. The thing inside the Sigil. He called me… brother,” Binyamin whispered, clutching his chest.
“That’s not terrifying at all,” Naela muttered.
Binyamin’s gaze settled on his glowing hands. “A war… fire raining from the sky… and something worse is coming.”
“You think it’s real?” she asked.
“I think it hasn’t happened yet,” he said, voice low and steady.
The Sigil pulsed once, a heartbeat echoing across the ruins.