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Prologue: The Sundered Forge
Three Centuries Ago
The crater known as the Sundered Forge still smoldered, veins of molten gold and blackened steel threading its basin. Two figures stood at its heart, silhouetted against the bleeding horizon.
The Ashorex prophetess, Ilaria, raised her hands to the sky. The air hummed as hundreds of followers chanted behind her, their faith weaving into a lattice of golden light. "By the Light Dominion's grace," she intoned, "we remake." The land beneath her feet knit itself whole, cracks sealing as flowers bloomed from ash.
Across the crater, Kaelen Lobenstein drove a jagged device into his own chest. Arcane gears whirred, and the ground shuddered as gravity inverted above his palm—a pebble floated, then imploded into a speck of starlight. His left hand blackened, flesh curling like burned paper. "Progress… requires sacrifice," he hissed, grinning through the pain.
A child's voice echoed from the crater's edge, unnoticed by both: "You're both wrong."
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Present Day: The Coronation of Light
Celia Ashorex's bones ached under the weight of her coronation robes. The Luminar Cathedral's vaulted ceiling stretched endlessly above her, its stained glass casting kaleidoscopic light over the crowd of thousands. Each pane depicted Ashorex miracles: storms calmed by prayer, plagues purged by holy fire. Lies, she thought. The latest pane, freshly installed, showed her father's deathbed—a "miracle" where his cancer vanished. In truth, he'd coughed blood onto her hands until his last breath.
"Celia of Ashorex." High Luminar Torin's voice boomed as he placed the Solaris Veil over her face. The gold filigree mask seared her skin, its magic syncing with her pulse. "Do you vow to uphold the Light Dominion's will, to be the vessel of its grace?"
The crowd roared. Celia's throat tightened. They think the Veil gives me power. They don't know it's the other way around.
"I vow," she whispered. The Veil ignited, its glow blinding. The crowd fell to their knees as hymns swelled. Celia's fingers brushed the Luminar Code etched into the altar—a holy sigil that could cure the Rotplague ravaging the slums below. Focus. Faith is power.
But as she channeled, the whispers began.
"Your light is a leash."
The Veil flickered.
A child in the front row collapsed, their skin mottled with Rotplague's black veins. Gasps rippled through the crowd. Celia clenched her fists. Ignore the voice. She pressed her palm to the Code, and golden tendrils snaked toward the child—until the whispers sharpened.
"You're killing him."
The light twisted.
The child screamed as the Code's tendrils drilled into his chest. Celia recoiled, but the Veil held her locked in place. The golden light turned viscous, oily, pooling in the boy's eyes until they burst into flames.
The crowd's faith snapped like a wire.
Celia tore off the Veil. The boy's charred corpse slumped as silence choked the cathedral. High Luminar Torin stared at her, his horror melting into fury. "Heretic," he mouthed.
The stained glass above them cracked.
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The Black Foundry
Jax Lobenstein's Arc Core hissed, its neon-blue light glinting off the rusted walls of the Black Foundry. His latest prototype—a wrist-mounted device codenamed Chrono-Skip—thrummed with unstable energy. The numbers on his cracked holoscreen blurred. 5.3 seconds. That's all I need.
"You'll die faster," said the AI voice of his mother, Dr. Veyra Lobenstein, crackling from a dented speaker. Her consciousness had been uploaded to the Foundry's mainframe three years ago, her body reduced to ash by Arc Core corrosion.
"Noted," Jax muttered. He flexed his mechanical left hand, the joints grinding. His skin, what remained of it, was a patchwork of scar tissue and synthetic graft. The Core embedded in his spine had eaten through 40% of his body. And it's hungry.
He activated the Chrono-Skip.
The world stuttered.
A rat scuttling across the floor froze mid-step. Jax lunged, grabbing it before time snapped back. The rat writhed in his grip, confused. It worked. He grinned—then choked as corrosion clawed up his throat. Black veins spiderwebbed across his jawline.
"Told you," said Dr. Veyra.
Jax ignored her, squinting at the holoscreen. The Chrono-Skip's output data wasn't right. Buried in the gibberish was a pattern—coordinates. 49.2827° N, 123.1207° W. He cross-referenced the Foundry's maps.
"The Veythari Wastes?"
"Where your father disappeared," Dr. Veyra said quietly.
Before Jax could respond, the Foundry's alarms blared. Intruders. He grabbed a plasma wrench and crept to the corroded steel doors.
A figure stood in the shadows, clutching a pulsing crystal.
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Celia ran until her lungs burned. The cathedral's spires loomed behind her, their light now a sickly yellow. She'd fled through the crypts, past the tombs of Ashorex luminaries whose faces were carved in eternal serenity. Liars. All of them.
The Rotplague child's screams echoed in her mind. Was it the whispers? Or did I fail?
She stumbled into the borderlands, where Ashorex's golden plains crumbled into the Lobenstein's jagged Iron Hollow. A storm brewed ahead—unnatural, crackling with violet lightning. The Veythari Wastes.
A glint in the mud caught her eye: a shard of crystal, glowing faintly. She reached for it—
—and time ripped.
Suddenly, she was standing beside a hulking machine, a gaunt young man in a grease-stained coat staring at her.
"What the hell?" Jax Lobenstein aimed a plasma wrench at her face. "Ashorex?"
Celia raised her hands, the Veil still dangling from her belt. "I don't want trouble."
"Too late." He nodded at the crystal in her hand. "That's a Reality Shard. It's why we're here."
"We?"
The ground trembled. Four figures emerged from the storm—Veythari nomads, their bodies fused with Lobenstein tech and Ashorex sigils. One pointed a blade at Celia. "The Third Heart wakes. You will not stop it."
Jax activated the Chrono-Skip.
Time froze—but Celia, somehow, could still move. The Shard? She grabbed Jax's arm, her holy magic flaring. Gold and blue light collided.
The world shattered.
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Reality Shard Vision
Celia and Jax stand in the Sundered Forge, but it's wrong. The sky is a fractured mirror. The Ashorex and Lobenstein founders lie dead, their bodies consumed by their own power. A child kneels between them, pressing a pulsating crystal—the Third Heart—into the crater.
"You have to break it," the child says. "Before they find it."
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Time snapped back. The Veythari lunged.
Jax grabbed Celia's wrist. "Run. Now."
They fled into the storm, the Shard burning between them. Behind, the nomads chanted: "The Heart will rise. The Lie will die."
Celia's Veil glowed, its light now tainted with the Shard's violet hue. "What was that vision?"
Jax tapped his corroded Arc Core. "A problem."
The Chrono-Skip on his wrist sparked.
"And that?"
"A bigger problem."
The device exploded—and time looped.
Again.
And again.
Ten seconds.
Nine.
Eight.
Celia's holy magic surged, entwining with the Chrono-Skip's remnants. Seven.
"Stop fighting it!" Jax yelled.
Six.
She let go.
The loop broke—and the Shard's light consumed them.
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End of Chapter 1