Kael floated in the void.

  Absolute darkness.

  This time, he could see himself.

  Each exhale sent bubbles rising toward a surface… that did not exist.

  His gaze was sorrowful.

  Drained of all light.

  His eyes were red, swollen with tears — they too drifted slowly upward.

  He spoke, voice weary, broken:

  “It’s Connie…

  She’s the one who sent her there.

  And she tried to send me there too, knowing perfectly well what had happened to my mother…”

  He clenched his teeth.

  “All this time… she told me nothing.

  She let me believe Orelia had simply disappeared, just like that, for no real reason.

  But it’s that damn man from the High Lands who’s responsible for her disappearance…”

  He closed his eyes slowly.

  “Connie will pay for that.

  So will he.

  I swear it.”

  He kept floating in the nothingness.

  But he felt nothing.

  Nothing except pure hatred.

  Not toward Connie.

  Not toward the man from the High Lands.

  Not even toward his mother… who had abandoned him.

  No.

  It was hatred toward causality itself.

  Kael clenched his jaw.

  And suddenly — everything reappeared.

  He was standing.

  The book Cause was no longer in his hands. It had vanished.

  But nothing else had changed.

  He was in his bedroom.

  He did not try to understand.

  He grabbed his saber.

  Stepped out into the garden.

  He didn’t take the stairs down.

  He jumped straight from the top of the steps, landing in the soft grass scented with lavender.

  He looked around.

  Nothing. No one.

  Then he spoke.

  Not to someone.

  But to the universe itself.

  His tone provocative.

  Loaded with hatred.

  “So… what are you waiting for, huh?

  I shattered your Trial, I pushed you into a corner.

  What did you expect? That I’d be afraid?

  You won’t wear me down.”

  He began turning in place, arms slightly spread.

  “Come on.

  Let’s finish this.”

  A slow clap echoed through the air.

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  Kael stopped instantly.

  He turned around.

  His mother.

  At the top of the stairs.

  “Bravo!” she called, a wicked smile on her face.

  Kael stared at her, eyes filled with disgust.

  With hatred.

  She descended the steps slowly.

  In a honeyed, almost mocking tone:

  “Who do you think you are, seriously?”

  Kael did not answer.

  “Do you really think you’re the first to try to bend the rules of the Trial? For millennia, it’s been attempted hundreds of times, Kael.

  Be serious.”

  Silence.

  Kael stood straight.

  Eyes locked on her.

  His saber still sheathed in his hand.

  The Needle Case Band still fastened to his scabbard.

  She stopped a few steps away from him.

  “Many have tried to defy causality…

  But I must admit, no one has gone as far as you.”

  Kael did not move.

  His gaze was cold.

  Heavy with resentment.

  She continued, her tone darker now:

  “But let me tell you one thing…”

  She did not have time to finish.

  Kael cut her off.

  His voice fell like a blade:

  “Who are you?”

  She looked at him for a moment…

  Then displayed a radiant smile.

  Perfect.

  Almost too perfect.

  In a gentle voice:

  “Me? Why… I’m your mother, of course.

  My little ragamuffin.”

  Silence settled.

  “And it’s time for you to make a choice.”

  Kael tightened his grip on the saber.

  “Who are you?” he repeated, firmer.

  She did not answer.

  She simply maintained that smile.

  Peaceful.

  Infuriating.

  Kael did not blink.

  Finally, she sighed.

  The radiant smile faded.

  The serene expression shifted into something weary, almost annoyed.

  “Fine… I can see you won’t decide.

  So… since I’m going to have to kill you to end this circus, I might as well answer.”

  She crossed her arms.

  “I am, let’s say… your vector of choice.

  The guardian of your causality.

  The path you must follow.

  Your logical continuation, if you prefer.”

  “Why?” Kael asked, tone glacial.

  His eyes held nothing.

  Nothing but hardness.

  And visceral hatred.

  The Guardian chuckled.

  “‘Why’ — that’s your only question?”

  Kael answered without hesitation:

  “It’s that ‘why’ you mock… that brought me here.

  And it will keep doing so.”

  The Guardian burst into laughter.

  “You think there’ll be an after? You?

  You, who don’t even have access to Divine Ichor, think you can survive me?”

  Divine Ichor? Kael thought.

  He made the connection instantly.

  “Why do you call the Elan ‘Divine Ichor’?” he asked.

  “The Primogenes didn’t create the Elan.”

  She laughed again.

  “The Primogenes?

  Those ersatz gods?

  No. I’m not talking about them.”

  Kael frowned.

  Ah… I see, he thought.

  The Guardian wasn’t even looking at Kael.

  She was staring at her hands.

  Hands that were not hers.

  Then she examined her body, as though judging the quality of the costume she wore.

  No comment.

  Kael then spoke, tone neutral:

  “You’re referring… to the past of the past.

  To the god mentioned in ‘The Bible.’”

  The Guardian froze.

  And stared at him intensely.

  No more mockery.

  No more ease.

  Kael held her gaze, just as cold.

  “I struck a nerve, it seems.”

  She inhaled deeply.

  “Sorry… but I can’t let you choose anymore.

  You have to die.”

  Kael moved to draw his saber.

  He didn’t have time.

  The Guardian was already in front of him.

  Her hand clenched around his throat.

  Kael was lifted off the ground in a single motion.

  He hadn’t let go of his saber.

  Not for a second.

  The Guardian raised her other hand.

  And a vile shiver, hideous prickling sensations, ran through Kael’s entire body.

  He struggled, one hand gripping the wrist of that false Orelia crushing his throat.

  She finally spoke:

  “Ah… I know how we’ll do this.

  Your friends are waiting for you in the material plane, aren’t they?”

  She smiled, wide. Cruel.

  “I’ll kill you in front of them.”

  Then she hurled him violently.

  The world shattered with a crash.

  Then dissolved.