The next morning, the castle was silent. The attack had shaken everyone, and the air was thick with unspoken fears. Atreya sat in the library, the Asura blade resting on the table before him. Its symbol no longer glowed, but he could still feel its presence—a faint hum in the back of his mind.
Celeste found him there, her expression unreadable. "You disappeared last night," she said, sitting across from him.
"I had to," Atreya replied. "The figure in the market—they knew me. They knew this sword."
Celeste frowned, her fingers tapping against the table. "What does that mean? Are they connected to the attack on your family?"
"I don't know," Atreya admitted. "But I need to find out."
She studied him for a moment before leaning back in her chair. "The council won't wait forever. My mother is calling for action. If we march to war, you'll be expected to fight."
Atreya's gaze dropped to the sword. "I don't even know what I'm fighting for anymore."
"You're fighting for yourself," Celeste said firmly. "For your family, for your future. You have a chance to rebuild, Atreya. Don't waste it."
Her words struck a chord, and for the first time in weeks, Atreya felt a flicker of determination. The path ahead was uncertain, but he couldn't afford to falter.
As Celeste left him to his thoughts, Atreya picked up the sword. Its weight felt less daunting now, its power a challenge rather than a burden.
He didn't know what lay ahead, but he knew one thing for certain—the void was calling, and he couldn't ignore it.