**[POV: ?????]**
There was nothing. The void was absolute.
No sound.
No light.
No direction.
Only black.
In the middle of that infinite darkness, the only anomaly was a boy who seemed completely accustomed to the scenery around him.
He stood there, motionless, as if he had always been there. As if that place existed only for him.
For a while he remained silent. Then he slowly sighed.
"Finally…"
His voice was calm, tired, yet within it one could sense a strange emotion.
"The time has almost come."
He took a few steps into the void, even though there was no ground to walk on nor a sky that could guide him.
The figure did not even know whether he was looking up or down. His senses had long since become useless in a place like that.
How long had he been there?
A day? A week? A year? Ten years?
It no longer seemed to matter.
"It's been… terribly boring just standing here watching for all this time. I don't feel hunger or thirst, but a little longer and I might have gone insane."
He stopped.
Something floated in front of him.
A white sphere—the other strange thing, together with him, in this world painted in black.
Looking at it more closely, one could notice that the sphere was not perfect: it was divided into two parts, as if it had been split a very long time ago.
Between the two halves ran a thin fracture line, and in some places small sparks of light could be seen where the edges were slowly trying to reunite, returning to what they once had been.
The two parts were slowly but inevitably moving closer together.
As the figure had said, the time was near.
He tilted his head slightly, observing the scene like someone watching an old mechanism finally start working again.
"Ah…"
A smile appeared on his face.
"It's somewhat satisfying to see things returning to where they belong."
He watched the sphere for a few seconds.
Then he lifted his gaze upward.
Above him there was nothing.
Only a familiar darkness.
And yet he spoke anyway, as if he could clearly see beyond that infinite black veil.
"Finally, I will be free."
His voice was almost… amused.
"If it can even be called freedom…"
He paused briefly.
"…well, literally anything would be better than this. I like black, but this is really too much."
Then his smile widened slightly.
"And besides, I'm curious to see what will happen when we meet."
The white sphere trembled slightly, as if in response.
The two halves moved closer.
Closer.
Toward the inevitable.
---------
**[POV: KIAN]**
When I opened my eyes again, the first thing I felt was pain.
In my ribs.
In my face.
In my back.
It would have been easier to count the parts that didn't have bruises.
Every part of my body seemed to protest just for existing, and if I tried to move it only got worse.
I didn't clearly remember when I had lost consciousness, but I vividly remembered spitting in Daren's face.
That had been satisfying.
I couldn't see anything. Besides the darkness, it was worth mentioning that that bastard had focused quite a lot on my face.
There was nothing I could do but wait, but for once the silence was not a welcome companion. Silence let my thoughts wander, and I couldn't stop thinking about the old man—his last moments, his body falling and never getting back up…
Inside, I felt completely shattered.
The days began to pass.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
The journey continued, the wagon swaying as the cart moved along roads that would eventually lead us to our destination.
I didn't know where we were going.
I didn't know how much time had passed.
But one thing always stayed the same.
Daren.
Every day he came into the wagon.
Every day he needed to vent.
Every day we were his outlet.
The scar on his eye hadn't healed completely, and every time I saw him touch his face, his expression twisted with rage.
Then he would look at us.
And smile as if he had found his favorite stress-relief toy.
The punches always came the same way.
First Luke.
Then me.
Sometimes he switched the order.
As if it were a game.
I didn't scream anymore.
Then one day things changed.
Luke, probably pushed to his limit, started shouting that he had never spoken to the old man, that he had barely seen him twice in his life—and then he dumped everything on me.
He said I was the only one who regularly went to his cabin, the only one who talked to him.
He kept repeating the word "only" like a mantra, hoping to be left alone.
And it worked.
Daren completely lost interest in him and focused entirely on me, making my days even more hellish.
The only positive thing was that the pain clouded my mind, and for a while I could avoid thinking.
But even while I was broken—both physically and mentally—the anger had not disappeared.
On the contrary, it kept growing inside me, fueled by every blow and every insult, until it turned into a silent flame burning stronger and stronger.
*One day I will kill you.*
The thought always came back.
Stubborn.
Like an echo bouncing inside my mind.
Whenever the cart approached a village, however, things changed.
This time it was Lyra who entered the wagon.
She almost never spoke. She simply observed us with cold eyes, evaluating our condition as if she were estimating our market price by the kilogram.
Then she slowly raised one hand, and the air changed.
A sweet scent began spreading through the wagon.
It was obvious she was using her element, though I didn't have enough information to understand exactly which one it was.
At first I tried to resist, clenching my teeth and holding my breath.
But it was useless.
My head became too heavy.
My eyelids harder and harder to keep open.
My vision blurred.
And then… darkness.
Every time I woke up, there was someone new in the wagon.
At the beginning there had been twelve of us.
Then thirteen.
Then fifteen.
Then sixteen.
Eventually we became eighteen.
The expressions of the new victims were always the same—terrified, confused, unable to understand what sin we had committed to end up like this.
Some cried often, unable to contain their fear.
Others stayed silent for hours, staring into the void with their minds somewhere else.
And the last ones… had simply stopped doing anything at all.
The routine continued for days.
Maybe weeks.
Then it happened again.
Lyra entered the wagon, silent as always, and raised her hand.
The sweet smell slowly filled the air again, slipping among us like an invisible fog.
My head started spinning almost immediately.
A child collapsed to the ground with a dull thud.
Luke muttered something beside me, but his words came out distorted.
My vision slowly darkened.
And then… darkness again.
When I woke up, I immediately realized something was different.
The constant sound of the wagon's wheels had disappeared.
The smell of wood from the wagon that had accompanied us for all that time was gone.
I slowly opened my eyes.
The room was dark and cold, and the walls around us were made of rough stone.
Around me were the other children.
But we were no longer eighteen.
Our number had grown to around thirty.
Some were just waking up, moving slowly.
Others were already sitting, looking around with eyes full of fear and confusion.
For a while, no one spoke.
Then—
*click.*
The door opened.
Light from the corridor poured into the room, forcing us to squint.
Three figures appeared in the doorway.
Two stood at the sides, wearing light armor and standing motionless like statues near the door.
The figure in the center, however, stepped forward.
He wore a long white coat and thin glasses rested on his nose.
His expression was calm as he looked at the chaos created by thirty frightened children.
His eyes slowly passed over all of us, one by one, studying us carefully.
Then he smiled.
A polite smile.
And said:
"Welcome…"
He paused briefly.
"…to Eclipse."