Chapter 158: Hope (1)
Nero stepped into the ruined chamber, his breath misting in the frigid air.
The walls curved around him like the inside of a dying heart, ancient stone blackened by centuries of cursed magic.
The ground pulsed faintly under his boots, alive, throbbing like a wound that refused to close.
At the center of it all, the figure waited.
It wore a fractured mask:
One half radiant, shimmering faintly with silver light.
The other blackened and jagged, devouring every trace of brightness.
Twin eyes glowed behind the mask, sorrowful, ancient, enduring.
Unlike the crushing despair saturating the Shatterveil, the figure’s presence pressed against Nero’s chest with a strange gentleness, a memory of warmth, buried beneath the endless cold.
When it spoke, its voice was no louder than a whisper, yet the stones themselves seemed to carry its words.
"I am Hope.
The light that endures.