"Brann's brother?"
Gaël wasn't the only one stunned by those words, Kaien's jaw dropped so low it looked like it might unhinge. Maera frowned, casting a bewildered glance at Brann. The only one who remained composed was Rai.
For a moment, Brann's stoic demeanor seemed to crack, but it was fleeting.
The child tilted his head slightly. A slow, unsettling smile stretched across his pale lips, an almost disembodied expression, a mask of false innocence carved into the flesh of something no longer human. Then his mouth opened, revealing teeth sharp as those of a starving beast.
"Why are you afraid of me?"
His voice did not pass through air or breath. It echoed directly inside Gaël's mind, infiltrating his thoughts with no vibration, no sound. It carried no threat, no warmth, not even intent. A voice pure and detached, yet tinged with a chilling curiosity, like a child brushing a blade's edge, wondering if it would cut.
Brann, still standing back, tensed imperceptibly. His fingers, once relaxed, slowly wrapped around the hilt of Fenrir, his black sword with a silent edge, the only blade capable of cutting even what should not be cut. His steel gaze assessed the child without a shred of pity, without fear either, but with the cold calculation of a man who had seen too much, fought too long, lost too often.
"That's not a child," he said, voice heavy with gravity.
The Child of the Void didn't blink, but his smile widened slightly, as if amused.
"Of course not," he replied, with a flawless innocence too perfect to be real.
"What is it? An Hollowborn?" Gaël asked, voice trembling. "Why did it call you brother? Is it walking the path of the Severance too?"
"The thing on the wall, yeah. But that…" Rai spoke in Brann's place, his tone guarded. "That's something else. A blend of Hollowborn and Radiant. Where I come from, we call it a Titan."
The word struck Gaël like a hammer, heavy and ominous.
Suddenly, the creature stepped forward with a movement that was smooth, unnatural, and utterly silent. Gaël shivered violently. It wasn't the motion that disturbed him, but the complete disconnection from reality. As if the child didn't walk but glided between the folds of the world itself.
"Have you come to feed the wolf… or to be its meal?" the voice whispered again, brushing their minds like frost across glass.
"The chime!" Gaël's thoughts screamed. "I have to use the chime!"
He rang the object. Immediately, the pressure on his mind lessened, the whispers receding like a tide.
Slowly, the child raised a slender finger and pointed to the grotesque mass embedded in the cavern wall, an unspeakable abomination, frozen in silent agony, its flesh twisted and fused into a texture that defied all known organic form. A single eye stared at them, a vortex of darkness swollen with Umbra. It couldn't move. It couldn't strike. But its mere presence radiated menace, like a curse etched into stone.
"She wanted to make me her meal…" the child whispered, with a falsely sorrowful expression.
Then his smile widened, and his voice took on an even stranger tone, an almost childlike glee laced with a disturbingly eager pleasure.
"So I punished her. And you… are you here to be punished too?"
His slender finger gently touched the dark mark on his forehead, slowly revealing a third eye.
Maera stumbled back, horrified, her face twisted by uncontrollable fear.
"The Eye…" she stammered, pointing to the black mark on his brow.
A beat.The air shivered, almost imperceptibly. The already faint light dimmed further, devoured by an invisible force, a ravenous void slowly tearing through the fabric of reality. Gaël felt his stomach clench in a sickening knot. This was no child.
It was a vessel, crafted to host the Light-Drainer, an abomination born of the forbidden fusion of Lumen and Umbra.
Maera drew her blade, hands trembling.
"What are you doing?! Don't take another step!" she screamed, panic lacing her voice like venom.
The child's smile softened, oddly gentle, almost comforting. But that gentleness only made the terror in his gaze more unbearable.
"You shouldn't be afraid. I don't eat humans anymore."
A heavy silence fell.
Gaël didn't know whether to run or strike. Every instinct screamed danger, but a deeper voice, the Severance itself, urged him to act while there was still time.
Brann didn't move. He hadn't stepped back, hadn't flinched. Only one detail betrayed the tension within him: his grip on Fenrir had tightened, his knuckles white with pressure.
The child tilted his head slowly, that same angelic smile still on his lips… grotesquely at odds with the monstrous glint in his eyes. He turned his gaze to Brann and drew in a breath, like a predator savoring the scent of long-awaited prey.
"Except maybe you, little brother," he murmured, almost playfully. "You abandoned me. And abandonment… deserves punishment."
The words slipped through the air like the edge of a blade on a bare throat.
"Brann," Gaël whispered, voice strangled by dread.
"I know," he replied, his eyes locked on the child. "I've been waiting a long time to finish what I started."
His voice was calm, but storms raged behind his gaze.
"You are no longer the living treasure who merged with Fenrir. That spirit is dead, choked by your malice."
Brann slowly turned his eyes toward the surrounding void, where the light itself seemed to recoil. Then he stepped back, firmly grounding his stance into the scorched black earth.
"You sought the First Darkness, tried to feed off it to evolve. But fate has led you back to me… and today, my Severance no longer fears your mind games."
A dull pulse trembled through the air.
The child stretched out his arms, as if to embrace him.
"Brother…" he sighed, voice tinged with sorrow. "I've waited so long. You severed our mental link at Briseterre, and since then… I've been so alone! Come back to me. It's not too late!"
A flash of unspeakable pain crossed Brann's face, only for it to harden a heartbeat later.
"That bond was nothing but an artifice, just a leash the Order forged to control me! But I won't be anyone's pawn ever again! Show your true form, Fenrir. The time has come!" He raised his sword, and the steel trembled, like a beast stirred from slumber.
"Fenrir… he loves me like a brother," le child whispered. "He opened my eyes, whispered the world's secrets… unlocked the path to true power. Together, we shattered our chains!"
The child let out a cackle. It echoed in every direction, as if spilling from countless mouths at once. He raised a pale hand, his translucent fingers seemed to drink in the torchlight, and even the abyssal glow around them.
Then, the third eye beneath his skin twitched, ever so slightly. The air thickened, saturated with a vibration that felt almost tangible. A ripple, unseen but undeniable, spread out, distorting the space around them.
"You want to cut, Brann?" came a voice that no longer belonged to a child. "But tell me... do you truly know what must be cut?"
It was like a whisper brushing the edge of their minds. A laugh that carved its way into consciousness, without ever making a sound.
Brann clenched his jaw, his gaze as sharp as two crossed blades.
"I've known... since the day I gave a new name to the blade that will destroy you!"
Gaël felt his breath catch in his chest.
And then, the Eye opened.
It tore the air apart with its deathly glare.