The skies cracked first.
Across the central continent of Serathis, the Ether tore open like a wound. From the breach came storms—not of rain or fire, but of memory. Forgotten people flickered into existence and faded within seconds. Lost cities blinked in and out like dying stars.
The War of Splinters had begun.
---
Aion stood at the edge of the breaking.
He could feel it in his blood—the Hollow Crown had unlocked more than memory. It had made him a conduit. Not just for the Null—but for the things written out of history.
He turned to Kael and Seln, his voice low. "The Cardinals are coming."
Seln nodded grimly. "And they're not alone."
---
Maelrik unleashed the Crimson Engine.
It screamed as it devoured forbidden Lawscrolls, spitting out Splinter Relics—twisted artifacts of pure rewritten Law, corrupted and unstable.
He gave one to each of his top Cardinals.
Veyra, the Mask of Silence, received the Blade of Reversal—a sword that made wounds appear before the strike.
Thorne, the Executioner, was bound to the Graviton Halo—a crown that inverted mass and density at will.
And Seir, the Quiet Flame, bore the Lantern of Stillbirth—a relic that stopped magic mid-incantation, freezing it into harmless ash.
Maelrik stood atop the tower, watching the Ether quake.
"Send them," he commanded. "Strike him before the Architect sees too much."
---
Three Cardinals.
Three monsters.
Each bearing power stolen from the bones of reality.
They moved like shadows across the sky, bound in crimson cloaks, riding rifts in the world.
Their destination: Aion.
---
Aion, Kael, and Seln reached the ruins of Vel Adryn, an ancient fortress built in the Age of Laws. Its defenses had once held off three armies. Now, they were little more than broken stone and silence.
"We can't outrun them," Kael said. "Not all three."
"We don't," Aion replied, stepping forward. "We make them chase me."
---
He stood in the middle of the ruined city as the first Cardinal arrived.
Veyra.
Her voice was like oil on glass. "You carry his crown."
"Not his," Aion said. "Mine now."
She drew the Blade of Reversal. The air rippled, and pain slashed across Aion's chest—before she even moved.
He staggered.
"Your death," she whispered, "has already happened. You just haven't accepted it yet."
Aion wiped blood from his mouth.
"Then let me rewrite it."
---
He unleashed Nullcraft—not like before, not cautious. But raw, vicious.
Reality snapped.
Time slowed, bent, then shattered as Aion moved backward through a wound, dodging a strike that had already occurred.
The Hollow Crown burned in his mind.
Forget the Law.
He pointed a finger—and unwrote her sword's momentum.
It dropped to the ground like a dead thing.
Veyra's eyes widened—just before the sky exploded.
---
Thorne and Seir had arrived.
The battle was no longer one-on-one.
It was a war.