The storm had passed, but inside Lengaza, it raged on.
He sat alone at the edge of the broken stone path just outside the ruins, fingers digging into the dirt like he could pull answers from the earth. The obelisk still glowed behind him, silent now—watchful.
Nyra kept her distance. She knew what this moment was. When a person begins to question not just what they are, but why they exist at all.
Lengaza muttered to himself, words barely audible.
"Why would they erase me? Why go through all that trouble? I wasn't special. I wasn't chosen. I was just a boy…"
He paused, remembering—not a memory, but a sensation. Running through tall grass. Laughter, maybe. A hand reaching out to his. Then, emptiness. Like something had ripped it all away mid-frame.
Nyra finally approached.
"You keep saying you weren't chosen," she said, kneeling beside him. "But maybe that's the point. Maybe you were too important."
He didn't respond. His eyes were fixed on the horizon.
"Did I have a family?" he asked quietly.
Nyra hesitated. Then nodded.
"Yes. You did. But they didn't make it."
"Because of me?"
"…Because they tried to protect you."
That silence again. This time not from fear—but grief.
Lengaza stood up slowly, wiping his hands. The stars above him were clearer now. No clouds. Just sky.
"I think I need to leave this place."
"Where will you go?"
"Somewhere the truth doesn't follow me like a shadow."
"That place doesn't exist anymore, Lengaza."
She was right. But he walked anyway.
The forest was darker now. Not because of night—but because something was changing. Shifting. Like reality itself had felt the obelisk stir.
As he disappeared into the trees, the Keeper stood in silence at the ruins, watching him go.
"Let the boy run."
"He must break first, before he awakens."
Somewhere far from the ruins, in a city humming with lights and noise, a small device blinked to life in the hands of a hooded stranger.
The screen showed Lengaza's face.
Below it, a single word:
"ACTIVE."