The air stilled once more. But this time, silence didn't follow.
It was reverence.
The kind that settles before a god exhales. The hush before a storm kneels.
Lyle lay motionless on the crystalline floor, one hand pressed against his chest. Gold sparks spiraled lazily from his skin—no longer violent, just… present. His veins pulsed with something ancient, something alive. It wasn't his.
But it fit.
Not like a curse.
Like a crown.
Aria knelt beside him, her body trembling. The brand still glowed beneath her wrist—a fine flame etched into her skin. She didn't know what came next. But she knew this much:
He was still Lyle.
And for now, that was enough.
⸻
From the cliffside, Genevo turned away. His cloak snapped in the wind.
"Good," he muttered.
When he'd branded Lyle, he thought it would break him—crack open the shell and spill out everything hidden inside. Especially when he saw the blonde girl. He knew immediately: they were siblings.
And that changed everything.
He believed the brand would unhinge Lyle, drag out his deepest instinct—to protect her. If he had the Archon of Man, the only thing he would be thinking about is completing said quest and getting girl out of danger and out of this world, he'd lash out. He'd try to strike Geneva down in front of everyone, giving them the perfect justification.
Kill the villain.
Complete the quest.
Fix what was lost.
One clean death, witnessed by all. No one would question it.
But that's not what happened.
Lyle didn't just break.
He rampaged.
Not at Geneva. Not at first.
He tore into the world around him, savage and unhinged. Most of the other subjects, even at their worst, clung to some twisted sense of purpose—a quest, a desire, a fractured identity trying to piece itself together.
But not him.
He was a failure both as a subject and as a brother.
No grand vision.
No burning need.
Just fury.
He didn't evolve.
He devolved.
Feral.
And now…
Genevo heard footsteps.
Getting closer.
His allies—too close now. He had to act before they interfered, before they ruined the chance to complete the quest.
Or, if you want something a bit more poetic and intense:
His allies were closing in. He had to finish it—before they could stop him, before the quest slipped through his fingers.
He had to end this.
Before they saw.
Before they stopped him.
⸻
Lyle – Prophet's POV
[Soul Script]
Description: Born of desperation, Lyle lost himself to the Ragebrand—a cursed soul skill forced on him by Genevo Graye. In his wrath, he nearly shattered. But in that abyss, Jacob—one of the Paradox Twins—tethered Lyle's soul to Aria's. She became his anchor. Through her presence, he remembered who he was. He put the mask back on. He remembered how to read.
The Soul Script allows the user to perceive the movement of a person's soul a split-second before their body follows. It reveals attacks, thoughts, and intentions—like a living script. A skilled user can edit the script in real time, subtly bending others' actions to their will.
And now, Lyle saw them—Geneva and Genevo, weapons of fire drawn, charging toward him.
Markus, Aria, Finn, Ramsey—and now Rowan—stood shoulder to shoulder, slipping into their stances like a storm ready to break.
But before they even reached him, he saw something strange:
Afterimages.
Not echoes. Not illusions.
Possibilities.
One showed Genevo slicing through his neck. That timeline was seconds away if he didn't act.
⸻
Beneath the shattered tree, where the twins had once controlled the Strifelion, Jacob stirred.
Connor had been awake for hours—alert, aching. His half of their shared body slumped against the stone, limbs stiff with exhaustion.
Then—
Jacob's eyes snapped open.
Clear.
Burning.
It was as if the world itself flared from a distant place, holding its breath, waiting.
Jacob shot up, eyes blazing with purpose. "They're in trouble. We need to move. Now."
Connor didn't flinch. His voice came out dry, hollow with fatigue. "Welcome back. I've only been awake this whole time. Watching. Making sure no one ambushed us while we're vulnerable—and skill-locked."
Jacob didn't respond. Instead, he raised a hand, and with a flick, a glowing menu unfolded before him—stats, cooldowns, abilities, all flashing like firelight through the dark. "We're good enough," he said flatly. "We move."
"No, Jacob," Connor's voice tightened. "We're not."
Jacob turned, irritation creeping into his expression. "We don't have time. They need us."
"And if we rush in like this, we die," Connor snapped back. "Then what? They'll need corpses instead?"
"I can handle it," Jacob muttered, brushing off the concern.
"You forget," Connor stepped closer, eyes narrowing, "We share the same skin. You don't get to make decisions alone."
Connor didn't want to take the risk. They couldn't use any of their skills, and whatever Jacob planned to do with their current mobility wouldn't work. He wanted to argue further, but the words caught in his throat. He understood the unspoken weight—the awkwardness between them if Lyle were to die, especially since only one of them could win, and they were conjoined twins. He looked at Jacob, knowing their chances were slim.
Jacob paused, finally turning to face him—really looking. The soft glow of the menu highlighted his face, but it was the fire in his eyes that burned brightest. "Then unchain me."
Connor's expression hardened. "So the world can revolve around you again?"
Silence.
"It always has," Jacob whispered, barely audible.
Connor stared at him, the weight of years between them—resentment, survival, bitterness all coiled tightly within him. "You always think this is your story. That if you get strong enough, they'll finally accept you. Respect you."
Jacob said nothing.
"But we're freaks," Connor went on, his voice low and raw. "When we're weak, we're worthless. When we're strong, we're terrifying. There's no place for us. The only thing they tolerate is mediocrity. And admiration? That's borrowed time. People love to cheer for a hero… right before they tear him down."
Jacob stood silent, jaw clenched.
"So," he said quietly, "are you coming or not?"
Connor hesitated. He wanted to say no, wanted to tell Jacob it was pointless—that they'd only make things worse in their current state. The beast Jacob had controlled was gone. Their skills were on cooldown. They were drained. And yet…
"…I can't let you go alone," Connor murmured.