Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 121 - Chapitre 126

“You think they’ll follow you?”“They won’t follow me. They’ll follow the truth.” I held up the key. “And I intend to show it to them.”Maxwell exhaled, then looked out over the distant ridge where the forest met the last trace of old civilization. “And if they try to stop you?”I looked him dead in the eye.“Then we remind them I’m not asking permission.”The words echoed louder than I meant them to, carrying across the crumbling walls of the Sanctum, bouncing off stone like a prophecy etched in defiance. For the first time in days—maybe weeks—I felt aligned with something deeper than survival. Something almost close to purpose.Maxwell didn’t respond right away. He just studied me, as if trying to figure out whether I was standing taller because of the key I held or because of the decision I’d finally made. Then he gave a small, tight nod—the kind that didn’t need explanation.We started walking.The path down from the ruins wasn’t the same one we’d taken up. I don’t know if the lan

It didn’t happen all at once. Some nodded stiffly. Some remained still, eyes narrowed, as if weighing every breath I took. But the energy shifted, undeniable and tense. Their hesitation wasn’t surrender—it was calculation. They were still watching me like I might detonate. But at least now, they were listening.Elara, ever the strategist, stepped back into the circle. Her face remained unreadable, the sharp angles of her features as inscrutable as ever. But there was something else there, a flicker of curiosity in her eyes as she studied me with an intensity that was hard to ignore."Then talk," she said, her voice cutting through the silence like a sharp blade. "If we’re here, and you’ve claimed the right to lead—or at least decide—what’s next?"I glanced at Maxwell, then at the key still humming faintly atop the beacon’s pedestal. “The last seal is unraveling. Slowly. But I can feel it now. It’s not going to break like the others. It’s waiting for the right moment, or the wrong one.

It was like stepping into water without getting wet—immersive, suffocating, impossible to define. The seal wasn't a place. It was a memory of a place. The edges of the space shimmered like heat mirages, reality curling and straightening again, refusing to settle.I stood on a stone bridge suspended over nothing. Beneath me was not darkness, but an absence of everything—sound, light, memory. Even the air held no scent, no temperature. It was pure sensation, stripped of identity. The only thing anchoring me was the key, still warm in my palm. And ahead, a figure waited at the other end of the bridge.She looked like me. Again.But not fractured. Not weaponized. This one was calm.Empty.She wore white. Hair down, eyes silver, not gold, not burning, not furious. This was the version of me that let go. The one who surrendered. The one who had said “yes” to silence because she was too tired to scream again.And as I stepped forward, she spoke first.“You’re late.”I paused. “What are you?”