The night was unusually silent.
Ren Zian sat alone by the edge of the cliff, overlooking the faintly glowing valley below. The stars above shimmered unnaturally bright, as if the heavens themselves were watching him. The wind whispered in hushed, almost reverent tones—until it shifted.
"You shouldn't be out here alone," Arin's voice cut through the silence.
Ren turned slightly, a smirk tugging at his lips. "And yet here you are, following me like the wind you are."
She stepped closer, her silver hair rippling in the moonlight. "Lyra's still unconscious. Her body is stable, but the flame pact backlash... it's worse than we thought."
His jaw tightened. The image of Lyra's collapse after fusing with the flame pact had haunted him. The gods weren't just watching—they were manipulating.
"Nyelle said there might be a place," Arin added, crouching beside him. "The Astral Garden."
Ren's gaze sharpened. He'd heard whispers. A sanctuary buried in a shifting dimension—accessible only through time-walkers. A place where divine and mortal energies converged to heal and destroy.
"She says she can open the path," Arin continued. "But it'll cost her. Time-walkers can't use their gifts freely. Every use rewinds their lifespan."
Ren stood. "Then we go. If Lyra dies, this entire rebellion dies with her."
As dawn crept into the horizon, Nyelle approached, her cloak trailing star-thread shadows behind her. Her expression was unreadable, but the glint in her eyes hinted at fear.
"You're sure?" Ren asked quietly.
She nodded. "I've seen it in a temporal fracture. The Astral Garden can restore her—but it's warded. Only a heart once lost and a vow once broken can open the gate."
Ren's brow furrowed. "What does that mean?"
Nyelle didn't answer with words. She raised her hand, and reality shimmered. A doorway of light tore open in the forest ahead, pulsing with quiet power.
Arin whispered, "She's doing it... Gods above."
Ren turned to her, gently grabbing her wrist. "You stay. Guard Lyra. If anything happens—"
"Don't you dare die in there," she snapped.
He smiled softly. "You like me too much for that."
He stepped into the gate.
The Astral Garden was not a place. It was a memory wrapped in magic. A shifting labyrinth of silver vines, floating lotus petals, and stardust rains. Ren could feel it tugging at his soul, testing him.
And then he saw her.
Not Lyra. Not Nyelle.
A woman in black robes, long raven hair cascading down her back. Her face hidden by a veil. But Ren knew. Somehow, instinctively.
"Seris?"
She turned. "You're early, Zian. Or perhaps... too late."
His heart stopped.
Seris—the woman from his fragmented memories. Nyelle's sister. The girl he could never save.
"You're alive?"
"No," she whispered. "But in this place, the dead still speak. And I have one warning—your next pact will break you."
Ren clenched his fists. "Then let it. Because I'll break the gods first."
The garden began to twist.
Behind him, a shadow moved.
Another presence.
Masculine. Confident. Dangerous.
A voice drawled, "So... you're the Auctioned One. I've been waiting."
Ren turned—and came face to face with a stranger dressed in divine silver armor, marked with pact runes.
"Name's Kael. I hold three pacts already. And you... you're late to the game."
Ren's eyes narrowed.
The race had begun.