The sun rose—
but it wasn't warm.Wasn't bright.
It stared.
Like an eye.
Watching.
Waiting.
Weighing.
The girl felt it first.
Her shadow twitched.
Bent the wrong way.Stretched toward the west, where the sun should've gone down.
She whispered, "It's not the sun."
The boy nodded.
He didn't look up.
Didn't need to.
He remembered that heat.That pressure.
The third Vault had sealed it once.
A god that devoured light.Wore it like armor.Burned cities into prayers.
He muttered the name beneath his breath.
Not a title.
A warning.
Sol Akor.
The god that wears suns.
They walked toward the light anyway.
Because that's where the next Vault pulsed.Not beneath the earth this time—
But above it.
In the sky.
The mountains ahead had no peaks.
Each had been melted flat.
Stone turned to glass.Trees scorched to ash-statues.
At the center:
A crater.So wide, it ate the wind.
And in the middle—
A man.
Naked.
Covered in flame that didn't burn.
Eyes glowing like dawn.Feet never touching the ground.
He spoke before they did.
"I remember you."
His voice was fire cracking inside bone.
"You sealed me when you were still chained.Still blind."
He smiled.
"But you forgot.Didn't you?"
The girl whispered, "Don't speak to him."
Too late.
The boy stepped forward.
"I remember now."
Sol Akor's smile widened.
"Then you also remember what I took from you."
And the sun flared.
Not the real one.
The one above it.
The second sun.The fake.The mask.
It cracked.
Light poured out—
not yellow.
White.
Colorless.Tasteless.
Pure radiance.
A light so real, it erased truth.
The girl screamed.
Her shadow fled from her body.
Tried to escape.
Melted halfway.
The boy grabbed her hand.
Held her still.
"We close it here," he said.
She shook her head.
"He isn't guarding the Vault.He is the Vault."
Sol Akor raised his hand.
The sky bent.
A river of stars bled down.
"Light isn't for seeing," he said.
"It's for hiding what matters."
The boy raised his broken sword.
The last eye flickered—
and opened.
Once.
Then closed.
The blade spoke.
One word.
"Reverse."
And the light twisted.
Not outward.
Inward.
Like a scream sucked into silence.
Sol Akor gasped.
His skin cracked.
"Impossible—"
The sun shattered.
Light reversed.
The crater screamed.
The sky fell.
And all that remained—
was darkness.
But not empty.
Full of names.
Thousands.
Millions.
All the ones Sol Akor had burned from history.
The blade trembled.
And whispered:
"He's not dead. Just seen."
The boy fell to one knee.
The girl caught him.
Together, they watched as the crater cooled.
No Vault left.
No god.
Only ash.
And within the ash—
a single ember.
Still warm.
Still watching.
He buried it.
Not out of mercy.
Out of fear.
Even gods should forget themselves.
Night fell.
But it felt honest now.
Like truth.
Unlit.
Unforgiving.
Far to the north—
a bell rang.
A Vault opening without permission.
The girl stiffened.
"That's the fourth."
The boy stood.
"Not a god this time."
She nodded.
"A prophet."
He turned north.
The blade whispered:
"The one who named you is awake."
To be continued…