The safe zone buzzed with subdued tension. The survivors, huddled together near a central bonfire fueled by flickering memories of warmth, looked haunted but alive. Rowan paced impatiently, her spear spinning idly in her hand, while Kieran stood at the edge of the encampment, his glowing shield planted firmly in the ground like a barrier between them and the encroaching darkness.
Sylva hovered near Aiden, her light dim but steady. The air was heavy with the weight of what they had learned.
"What exactly happened to the rest of your group?" Rowan asked the bloodied man from earlier, her voice sharp with impatience.
The man, sitting cross-legged with a makeshift bandage over his head, shook his head. "We were trying to escape. The shadows came out of nowhere, but worse than that, the land itself... it turned on us. Things we thought were safe—memories of home, of joy—they twisted. Became something else."
"Twisted how?" Kieran asked, his tone steady but firm.
The man looked at him, his expression haunted. "The guardian of our fragment— He did what he could. Gave us a chance to escape. Those who couldn't escape... I don't know if they made it."
Rowan stopped pacing and spun her spear to a halt. "Then we go back. We save whoever's left."
"Absolutely not," Kieran interjected, his voice like stone. "If the Core's corruption has taken hold of that fragment, crossing into it is a suicide mission. We'd only weaken ourselves here."
Rowan turned to him, her eyes narrowing. "So what? We just let them die? Let the Core swallow more people, more memories, more of us?"
Kieran stepped forward, his broad shoulders casting long shadows in the firelight. "My responsibility is to keep this zone intact. If the corruption spreads here, it won't just be one fragment—it'll be all of them. We fortify the line."
"Fortify the—" Rowan scoffed, pointing her spear at him. "You're just scared."
"Enough," Sylva's voice rang out, her light flickering as she moved between them. She turned to Aiden. "This decision isn't mine to make. Aiden, what do you think?"
The question hit Aiden like a blow. His gaze flicked between Rowan and Kieran, the weight of their stares pressing down on him. His chest tightened as doubt crept in. He thought of the civilians they had saved, their terrified faces, and the voices of the ones they couldn't reach.
"I..." Aiden faltered, gripping the quill-sword tightly. "I don't know."
"You'll have to make a choice eventually, rookie," Rowan said, crossing her arms. "Because this isn't just about today. It's about what kind of fighter you want to be."
Aiden turned to Sylva, desperate for guidance. Her green eyes softened, and she hovered closer. "You already know the answer," she said gently. "The Core thrives on despair and inaction. We cannot let it consume another fragment."
Aiden exhaled slowly, nodding. "We go. We try to save them."
Kieran frowned, his expression unreadable, but he didn't argue. He lifted his shield and turned toward the darkened horizon. "If we're doing this, we move quickly. No detours."
Rowan's grin returned, though it was tinged with grim determination. "That's more like it."
The transition into the corrupted fragment was jarring. The air grew colder, the ground beneath their feet unstable. Sylva's light dimmed further, casting long, flickering shadows over the landscape.
They emerged into what had once been a schoolyard. Rusted swings creaked faintly in a nonexistent breeze, and broken pavement stretched toward an empty basketball court. The sky above was fractured, pieces of it shifting unnaturally like a shattered mirror.
Sylva floated higher, her glow illuminating the fragmented terrain. "This place... it was a memory of joy, once. A haven for children. But the Core's corruption has nearly consumed it."
"What happens if it collapses?" Aiden asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"The memories here will be lost forever," Sylva replied. "And the Core will grow stronger."
Rowan walked ahead, her spear resting against her shoulder. "Then we don't let it collapse. Simple."
But Aiden barely heard her. His footsteps slowed as they approached a cracked swing set. Something about it tugged at his chest, a feeling he couldn't place. He stopped, staring at the rusted chains, his breath catching.
"Aiden?" Rowan's voice cut through his haze.
Before he could respond, Aiden's gaze lingered on the swing set. It shouldn't be here. Not like this. The swing swayed gently, its rusted chains creaking in a slow, unnatural rhythm. His chest tightened. He knew that swing. He had stood right there, pushing Lila higher and higher until her laughter echoed like music in his ears. But this wasn't right.
No… no, this isn't how it happened.
The swing set flickered, like static on a broken screen. Lila's image appeared — smiling, laughing, carefree. But as she swung higher, her laughter twisted into a scream. Flames erupted at her feet, crawling up the chains as her figure contorted unnaturally, her arms snapping at jagged angles.
"No!" Aiden surged forward, but his legs felt like lead. The whispers came then, coiling around his thoughts. "You need control, Aiden. Control it all, or you'll lose everything."
"Focus, Aiden!" Sylva's voice was sharp, cutting through the noise. "It's a trap!"
The shadows lunged, their claws aimed directly at him. Aiden raised the quill-sword, but his strikes were wild, driven by panic. The memories—Lila's screams, the fire, the whispers—they clouded his mind, pulling him deeper into the chaos.
"Snap out of it, rookie!" Rowan shouted. She slammed her spear into the ground, sending a wave of light through the shadows and buying Aiden a moment to breathe.
Kieran moved beside him, his shield glowing brightly as he drove the shadows back with practiced precision. "You're no good to us like this. Get it together."
Aiden closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe. He tried to drown out the whispers, focusing instead on Sylva's light. He imagined the warmth of Yggdrasil, steady and unyielding. Slowly, the quill-sword glowed brighter in his hand. He opened his eyes and slashed through the air, drawing glowing chains that bound the remaining shadows.
When the battle ended, the fragment stabilized, but the air was still heavy with unease. Aiden's hands trembled as he lowered the quill-sword.
"You okay?" Kieran asked, his tone gruff but concerned.
Aiden nodded, though his voice was shaky. "Yeah. I'm fine."
Rowan rested her spear on her shoulder, her expression unreadable. "If that's what fine looks like, you've got a long way to go."
Sylva floated closer, her light flickering softly. "This far from the heart of Yggdrasil's influence, even the strongest memories can be twisted. The swing was safe once — now it's a tool the Core can use against you. You must be prepared."
Aiden looked at the swing set, now broken and charred. The image of Lila's screams still echoed faintly in his mind, but he pushed it aside. He had to. There was no room for hesitation.
"Let's keep moving," he said, his voice steadier now. "There might still be people we can save."
Rowan smirked, but her eyes held a glint of respect. "Now you're starting to sound like one of us."
As they moved deeper into the fragment, the corrupted schoolyard loomed around them, its twisted shadows hiding more than just memories. But Aiden kept his focus forward, the quill-sword glowing in his hand.
He wasn't going to let the Core win. Not again.