Fighting the Void sounded noble in theory.
In practice, it meant sitting in a cold room with Lyra while she tried to teach me to build mental walls, and I kept failing.
"Focus," she said, her voice patient but firm. "Picture the walls. Stone, brick, steel—whatever feels strongest to you. Build them in your mind, brick by brick."
I closed my eyes. I tried to imagine walls—tall, thick, impenetrable walls. But every time I started to build, the hum in my chest grew louder, and the walls crumbled before I could finish.
"I can't," I said, opening my eyes. "It keeps breaking everything."
Lyra sighed. "You're trying too hard. You're fighting the Void instead of working with it. There's a difference."
"I don't understand," I said, frustration creeping into my voice. "You said I had to resist. You said—"
"I said you had to control it," she interrupted. "Control isn't resistance, Eren. It's understanding. It's accepting that the Void is part of you now, and learning to shape it instead of letting it shape you."
I stared at her. "That doesn't make any sense."
"It will," she said. "Give it time."
Time. That was the one thing I didn't have.
The dreams were getting worse.
Every night, I returned to the field of black grass. Every night, the faceless figure was there, waiting for me. It never attacked. It never threatened. It just... talked. Whispered. Promised.
"You're so tired, Eren. So exhausted. Wouldn't you like to rest? Just let go for a moment. Let me carry the weight."
I always said no. I always woke up screaming.
But the no was getting harder to say.
"There's something I need to show you," Lyra said one morning.
We were in the training room—a wide, open space with high ceilings and walls covered in violet runes. I'd spent hours here, practicing, failing, practicing again. The runes had become familiar to me. Almost comforting.
"What is it?" I asked.
Lyra reached into her pocket and pulled out a small crystal. It glowed with a faint blue light, pulsing gently in her palm.
"This is a memory shard," she said. "It contains the last moments of the previous Voidwalker. Kael's final battle."
I stared at the crystal. "You want me to watch it?"
"I want you to understand," she said. "What it means to be a Voidwalker. What it costs."
I hesitated. I wasn't sure I wanted to see that—to witness someone else's death, someone who'd been just like me.
But I also knew I needed to understand. If I was going to survive this, I needed to know what I was up against.
"Okay," I said. "Show me."
Lyra pressed the crystal to my forehead.
The world dissolved.
I was standing in a different place—a field of ash and rubble, under a sky that was split open like a wound. The Rift was here, wider and deeper than the one I'd seen over Olori. It pulsed with a dark hunger, and from its depths, a creature was emerging.
It was enormous. Larger than any building, larger than any mountain. Its body was made of shadows and nightmares, its form constantly shifting, never quite settling into a shape I could recognize. It had a thousand eyes, each one burning with hatred, and a mouth that stretched across its entire body, filled with teeth that were also shadows.
And standing before it was a man.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair and tired eyes. He wore the same violet markings that I wore, but they blazed brighter, hotter, like fire beneath his skin. In his hands, he held a sword that shone with the light of a dying star.
"Kael," I whispered.
The man turned. He looked directly at me—through me, somehow, as if he knew I was watching.
"Don't forget," he said. "Don't ever forget."
Then he charged.
The battle was brutal.
Kael moved like lightning, his blade carving through the creature's shadow-flesh. Each strike sent waves of violet energy rippling across the field, and the creature screamed with a sound that shattered stone and split the earth. But it kept coming. It kept fighting.
And Kael was getting tired.
I could see it in his movements. The way his strikes were slowing. The way his breath was coming in ragged gasps. The way the violet markings on his skin were starting to flicker, like candles in a storm.
"You can't win," I said, though I knew he couldn't hear me. "You have to retreat. You have to—"
He didn't retreat.
Instead, he drove his sword into the ground and closed his eyes.
The violet markings blazed. They grew brighter, hotter, until Kael's entire body was glowing like a sun. And then he raised his hands to the sky, and all that power—all that impossible, terrifying power—flew out of him.
It hit the creature like a wave. The shadows that made up its body disintegrated, torn apart by the light. The creature screamed, a sound that shook the foundations of the world, and then it was gone. Obliterated.
The Rift began to close.
But so did Kael's eyes.
He fell to his knees, the violet markings fading from his skin. His body was hollow, drained, empty. He'd given everything—everything—to close the Rift.
And he'd succeeded.
But he'd died in the process.
The vision ended.
I was back in the training room, gasping, my heart pounding in my chest. The crystal had fallen from my forehead and shattered on the floor.
Lyra was watching me, her expression unreadable.
"That," she said, "is what it means to be a Voidwalker."
I couldn't speak. My throat was too tight. My chest was too heavy.
"He gave everything," I finally managed. "He sacrificed himself."
"Yes," Lyra said. "He did."
"Was there no other way? Couldn't he have—"
"No," she said. "There was no other way. The Rift was too powerful. The creature was too strong. The only option was total sacrifice."
I stared at the shards of the crystal on the floor.
"Is that what's going to happen to me?" I asked. "Am I going to die the same way?"
Lyra was quiet for a long moment.
"I don't know," she said. "I hope not. But you need to understand what you're carrying. The weight of a Voidwalker is heavier than anyone can imagine. And if you're not ready for it, you'll break."
I looked at my hands. The same hands that had killed a Riftspawn. The same hands that carried the power of the Void.
"I won't break," I said.
It was a promise. To myself. To Lyra. To Kael, wherever he was.
"I won't break."
That night, the dream was different.
I was still in the field of black grass. The faceless figure was still there. But this time, there was something else—a presence, familiar and warm, standing at the edge of the field.
I knew who it was before I saw his face.
"Kael," I said.
He turned. He looked just like he had in the vision—tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair and tired eyes. But his expression was gentle, and there was a sadness in his gaze that made my chest ache.
"Eren," he said. "You saw."
"I saw you die," I said. "You gave everything to save everyone."
He nodded. "I did. And I'd do it again."
I wanted to ask him why. Why he'd chosen to sacrifice himself. Why he hadn't tried to find another way. But I already knew the answer.
Because there was no other way. Because sometimes, being a hero meant giving everything.
"The Rift took more than my life," Kael said. "It took my soul. Part of me is still trapped here, in the Void, unable to move on."
I thought about the faceless figure. The voice that whispered promises in my ear.
"That was you," I said. "The figure. It was you."
Kael nodded. "But I'm not alone. The Void has twisted my soul, made me into something I don't recognize. That's what it does to us, Eren. It takes everything we are and turns it into something else."
I felt cold. "Is there any way to save you? To free your soul?"
Kael was quiet for a moment. "I don't know. No one's ever done it before. But if anyone can, it might be you."
"Why me?"
He smiled. It was a sad smile. "Because you're different. The Infinity resonance. You have power that none of us had. Maybe that power can do what we couldn't."
I didn't know what to say to that. So I just nodded.
"I'll try," I said. "I'll find a way."
Kael's smile grew sadder. "I know you will. Just be careful, Eren. The Void is patient. It'll wait for you to make a mistake. And when you do, it'll try to consume you."
"I know," I said. "I've been warned."
He nodded. "Then I'll leave you with one piece of advice. When the time comes—when the Rift opens again, and you have to make a choice—remember who you are. Not what you are. Who you are."
I opened my mouth to respond.
And then I woke up.
Lyra was sitting beside me when I opened my eyes.
"You were talking in your sleep," she said. "You said Kael's name."
"I was dreaming," I said. "I saw him. He talked to me."
She was quiet for a moment. "What did he say?"
I sat up, rubbing my eyes. "He told me to remember who I am. Not what I am. Who I am."
Lyra studied me, her expression unreadable. "That's good advice."
"I know. But I'm not sure I know who I am anymore."
She reached out, placing a hand on my shoulder. "You're Eren Kalu. You're seventeen years old. You love your mother. You read too many physics textbooks. You're stubborn, and brave, and sometimes a little stupid."
I almost laughed. "That's not very helpful."
"It's true," she said. "And that's what matters. The Void can change what you are. But it can't change who you are."
I thought about Kael. About the faceless figure in the field. About the power inside me that was both a gift and a curse.
"Thank you," I said.
"Don't thank me yet. You still have a long way to go."
The next day, Lyra took me to the Nexus.
The sphere of liquid light pulsed gently in the center of the room. As I approached, I felt the hum in my chest grow louder, more insistent. The violet markings on my arm flickered to life.
"It recognizes you," Lyra said. "The Nexus knows you're a Voidwalker."
I reached out tentatively. My fingers brushed against the surface of the sphere, and—
The world exploded into light.
I was standing in the center of the Nexus, but I wasn't in the Hall anymore. I was somewhere else—somewhere vast and empty, a void of darkness and silence. The only light came from the sphere of liquid light, which was hovering in front of me, pulsing like a heartbeat.
"Hello," a voice said.
I spun around. There was a figure standing behind me—a woman, tall and regal, with silver hair that flowed like liquid starlight. Her eyes were the same color as the sphere, bright and piercing, and there was a power radiating from her that made my knees weak.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"I am Sera," she said. "The first Voidwalker. The founder of the Order."
I stared at her. "Sera? But you're—"
"Dead," she said, finishing my sentence. "Yes. But part of me lives on, here, in the Nexus. I've been waiting for you, Eren."
"Waiting for me?"
"The Infinity resonance," she said. "It's been a long time since the Nexus recognized a Voidwalker. And it's never recognized one like you before."
I didn't know what to say.
"You have questions," Sera said. "Ask them."
I hesitated. There was so much I wanted to know. Why me? What did the Void want? How could I control it? How could I save Kael's soul?
But the first question that came out was simpler.
"Am I going to die?" I asked.
Sera's expression softened. "That's not the right question."
"What is?"
"The right question is," she said, "what are you willing to sacrifice?"
I woke up on the floor of the Nexus chamber.
Lyra was kneeling beside me, her face pale with worry. "Eren! Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," I said, pushing myself up. "I think. I saw Sera."
Lyra blinked. "Sera? The first Voidwalker?"
"She's in the Nexus," I said. "Her spirit. She said she's been waiting for me."
Lyra was quiet for a long moment. "The Nexus has always been connected to the Voidwalkers. But I didn't know it could manifest like that."
"Neither did I," I said. "But she told me something. Something I need to think about."
"What?"
"She asked me what I was willing to sacrifice."
Lyra's expression flickered. "That's... a heavy question."
"I know."
She looked at me, her eyes searching. "What's your answer?"
I thought about Kael. About the vision of his final battle. About the way he'd given everything to save everyone.
"I don't know," I admitted. "But I think I'm going to have to figure it out."
That evening, I met with the Order's Council.
It was a formal affair—the Leaders of the various ranks, each seated at a long table in the heart of the Hall. They looked at me with the same mixture of curiosity and suspicion I'd become used to.
Lady Aster sat at the head of the table. "Eren Kalu. We've heard about your progress. Your connection to the Nexus. Your dreams of Kael."
"It's been... a lot," I said.
Lady Aster nodded. "The Council has been discussing your future. Your role in the Order."
"What role?"
She leaned forward, her eyes sharp. "We want you to be ready. Ready for the Rift's next opening. Ready to fight. Ready to—" She paused. "Ready to make the sacrifices that will be required of you."
"I know," I said. "I've seen what Kael did. I know what it costs."
"Do you?" a voice asked.
It was Zed, the Hunter who'd been so hostile to me. He was standing at the edge of the table, his arms crossed, his expression cold.
"You've been here for what, a week? You've killed one Riftspawn. You've had a few dreams. You think that makes you ready for what's coming?"
"Zed," Mira said, stepping forward. "That's enough."
"No," Zed said, shaking her off. "I want to hear him say it. I want to hear him say he knows what it's like to lose everything. To watch the people you love die. To carry the weight of the world on your shoulders."
I met his eyes. "I don't know what that's like. Not yet. But I'm willing to learn."
Zed scoffed. "Willing to learn. That's precious."
"Zed, I said that's enough!" Mira's voice was sharper now, and she stepped between us, her body tense. "This isn't the time or the place for your personal issues."
"Personal issues?" Zed laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You think this is personal? This is bigger than that. This is about whether he can handle what's coming. And I don't think he can."
"Then I'll have to prove you wrong," I said.
The room went silent.
I hadn't meant to say it out loud. But once I had, I realized I meant it. Every word.
Zed stared at me. Then, slowly, he nodded.
"Fine," he said. "Then prove it."
After the meeting, Mira found me in the corridor.
"You handled that well," she said. "Better than I expected."
"Thanks, I think," I said.
She laughed. "I mean it. Zed's been like this since the last Voidwalker died. He was close to Kael. Kael was his mentor."
I felt a pang of guilt. "I didn't know."
"No one did," she said. "He keeps it buried. But it's there. And he takes it out on you because you remind him of what he lost."
"Great," I muttered. "Another person who wants me dead."
"Not dead," she said. "Just... better. Stronger. He wants you to be strong enough to survive."
I looked at her. "And you? What do you want?"
She met my eyes. "I want you to survive too. But for different reasons."
I didn't ask what those reasons were. Part of me was afraid to know.
That night, I didn't dream.
I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the field of black grass to swallow me. But it didn't come. For the first time in weeks, I slept peacefully.
And when I woke up, I felt stronger than I had in days.
End of Chapter