Within the silent expanse of Emmet's inner world, a profound connection began to forge. A profound silence, deeper than any tomb, settled around him, broken only by a low, ancient hum that vibrated in his very bones. Then, a voice, impossibly old yet clear as a bell, drifted towards him, seeming to emanate from the very air itself.

  "My name is... Ee-Aa-ank." It wasn't just a sound; it was a whisper from a forgotten age, carrying the weight of eons. "I have been sealed here for years... I do not know how long. My body is dying, and the crystal is the only thing keeping me alive. My spirit is waning; my existence no longer holds through the current time."

  Emmet felt his breath catch, his gaze locked onto the spectral figure. Every fiber of his being screamed caution, yet a deeper curiosity pulled him forward. "How long have you been awake?" he managed, his own voice a rough intrusion in the sacred quiet.

  Ee-Aa-ank's expression softened, a fleeting glimpse of sadness interwoven with a profound relief that made his heart clench. "Just now."

  The simplicity of her answer struck him like a physical blow, igniting a mental maelstrom. The pieces of disparate knowledge, mechanical and magical, clicked into place with a terrifying clarity. The sigil had undeniably disturbed her slumber. Perhaps the ritual outside had fractured the delicate balance of her seal, or the energy siphoned from the sigil had inadvertently reawakened this ancient chamber, stirring something buried deep within its foundations. Had this place always drawn power from Hollow Town, or was this a grim consequence of the encroaching Malice Bloom? The unstable crystal had sustained her, yet its power might have finally dwindled, or this was her desperate, final awakening.

  Emmet clenched his jaw. No. He wouldn't allow it. The feeling surging within him—the irresistible pull, the consuming obsession, the audacious delusion—he embraced it fully. He wanted her. And that desire, whether rational or not, had already begun sculpting reality around him.

  The moment Emmet's eyes truly met hers, his world irrevocably shifted. She wasn't merely beautiful; she was an impossibility, a fragment of a past buried beneath the sands of time. It wasn't simple admiration or fleeting desire; it was a profound, bone-deep recognition, as if his very soul had always known her. Her presence called to him—something more primal than words, more urgent than longing.

  "Will you hold on to life if there is a chance?" he asked, his voice steady, yet edged with an intensity he didn't recognize.

  Her reply was a fragile, unwavering whisper. "I would... but that is impossible."

  But Emmet refused to acknowledge impossibility. Driven by an impulse he couldn't explain, he stepped closer, his breath even, his pulse quickened with a burgeoning sense of purpose. "I am a tool divinant—an elemental divinant, blessed with power from the gods themselves."

  She exhaled, and for the first time, her eyes, deep and ancient like distant stars, held a flicker of sorrow. "The gods are no more," she murmured. "I have seen it with my own eyes. They are gone."

  Emmet's chest tightened. She had lived in the time of gods. She had witnessed their vanishing. Yet, even as shock reverberated through him, an audacious idea seized him, born not of logic but of fierce instinct. "Then perhaps... I can bind you to my essence—link you to me. In theory, it would make you part of me. But in time, you could separate." It was reckless. It was unproven. But he was compelled to try.

  A profound silence stretched between them. Then—a faint smile graced her lips. "I believe what you plan to do is possible. I think I can make it happen and can help you with that. Allow me to guide you." Her words carried the weight of history, the sting of tragedy, and something else—a nascent hope.

  And suddenly, an ethereal shift occurred—their minds, their thoughts, their very instincts began to intertwine. Their energies merged, colliding as if fate itself had woven them into a singular existence. The chamber blurred, then faded. The crystal dissolved into an indistinct shimmer. There was only them. This was creation, a bonding beyond flesh, beyond time itself, willing each other into being. Emmet embraced it; he wanted her, and with that desire, he felt the universe respond. The binding began, their souls touching, entangling, and reforging existence with nothing but their converging will.

  "My name is Ee-Aa-ank," she whispered once more. "I have been sealed for longer than time remembers." Her existence was fading, but he had found her. And now—he wouldn't let her go.

  As their essences intertwined, the world around them seemed to dissolve, melting into something purer than reality itself—a boundless space of raw energy, shaped only by thought, desire, and fate. For the first time, Emmet felt beyond himself, beyond his own limitations, beyond every theory he had ever constructed. He was no longer separate from her; he was within her, and she—within him.

  "You feel it, don't you?" Ee-Aa-ank's voice echoed softly, carrying the weight of centuries.

  Emmet could only nod, his breath steady, but his heart thundered not with fear, but with absolute certainty.

  "I should have faded long ago," she whispered. "But now, my spirit lingers—because of you." She stepped forward, closer, until only a gossamer thread of space remained between them. "Emmet..." His name on her lips was a sacred incantation, something older than magic, older than history itself. "I have been trapped in this crystal for longer than time remembers. My body is failing. I do not belong in this world anymore."

  She reached out—not physically, but through the nascent bond—drawing him closer, calling him into her soul. And suddenly, he understood. The connection was no longer just a theory. It was happening. His instincts knew precisely what to do, shaping the ritual into something entirely new—a binding not of magic, not of divinity, but of profound devotion. Not control. Not possession. But deep affection.

  "I can bind you to my essence," he whispered, his voice steady yet trembling with something deep, unspoken.

  She exhaled, her gaze unreadable—a complex blend of hope, disbelief, and dawning understanding. "So, it truly is possible, this linking of our essences," she murmured, a flicker of awe in her ancient eyes. "To become part of you, yet with the hope of being free again in time..."

  The chamber pulsed. Their souls willed themselves together, colliding with a force that should have been impossible. Magic didn't dictate this. The gods didn't dictate this. It was them. Two beings defying all established order, shaping existence anew because they wanted to—because they chose to.

  "Emmet, I..." She hesitated, but he felt her answer before she could speak. She wanted this. She chose this. And together, they willed it into reality. The seal beneath them shifted, responding not to a ritual, not to an incantation, but to desire itself. The crystal fractured. Light surged. And Emmet knew—nothing would ever be the same again.

  When Emmet opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was her. A girl, waiting for him, watching him with eyes that held both innocent curiosity and quiet understanding, as if she had always been there—waiting for him to awaken, waiting for this exact moment to unfold. She was beautiful, impossibly so, unreal in the way dreams felt too perfect, too delicate. And for a fleeting second, his thoughts escaped his control. "Is this heaven?"

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  But reality pulled him back, grounding him. "You..." His voice was hoarse, uncertain. "Ee...Aa... How do you say it again?"

  "Ee-Aa-ank," she corrected, a soft laughter in her tone.

  "I'm sorry—I couldn't... Umm, can I call you Eanne?"

  A brief pause—then a radiant, effortless smile bloomed on her face. "Yes. From now on, my name is Eanne." Then, with quiet sincerity, she added, "And I will call you Master."

  Emmet froze, his breath catching—then he immediately shook his head. "Wait, what? No, don't."

  She blinked, confused. "But—"

  "I wouldn't dare let someone as beautiful as you call me that." There was no malice in his words, only shyness, only awkward honesty.

  Her expression softened, a quiet amusement glimmering behind her eyes. "Then how should I address you?"

  Emmet hesitated. He cleared his throat. "Just Emmet. Emmet Langer."

  "Then Emmet," she said gently, testing the name, embedding it into her existence. Then—a confession, unintended but pure. "From now on, we will be together." For a moment, he perceived it as something else—a quiet vow, a promise between two souls bound by something neither of them had words for. But he brushed it off. He had to return to reality.

  "Oh yes... The ritual—it worked?"

  Eanne nodded, folding her hands in front of her. "Yes, although it wouldn't have worked if I hadn't helped you a little." Her smile was small, knowing. "It was only possible because I understand how these things work—because I know seals and sigils better than anyone." Then, she tilted her head slightly, as if testing a thought. "It seems my essence is linked to yours now."

  Emmet paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. "What? Is that even possible?" His mind began to race, constructing theories, testing possibilities like a scholar lost in thought, already dissecting how this could work.

  She laughed, warm and genuine. "You still don't understand it yet." She added, "Anyways, do you feel okay?"

  She nodded, tilting her head in the cutest way—innocent but full of wisdom beyond her years. "Whatever we did, it worked." Then, her gaze softened, her words carrying a quiet truth. "I am now a new being. My body was created based on you, and I am something else now." And Emmet knew—whatever had happened, it was something transcending magic and fate. It was pure, deep affection, shaping existence itself.

  Emmet yearned to linger in this moment—to stay beside her, to revel in the quiet presence of something so beautiful, so utterly unexpected. But reality crashed back in. "The town?!" His voice was sharp, urgent.

  Eanne watched him—her gaze steady, understanding his worry before he even voiced it. "Ah, the people from above..."

  His pulse steadied, but his mind raced. "Where are we?"

  She hesitated. "I don't know. Maybe underground?"

  He frowned. "How would you know?"

  She turned, looking around thoughtfully. "I felt you from up above when I was still in the crystal."

  Emmet's thoughts aligned—right. "And I heard you from below the ground..." A pattern. A connection. It meant something. "So how do we get out?"

  Eanne moved, surveying the space, her footsteps deliberate. Then, as if the answer had always been there, she murmured, "We can use a portal." Her words felt weighted, purposeful.

  Emmet's brows furrowed. "A portal?"

  Eanne glanced at him, curious. "Are there any sacred altars nearby—ones that were used to worship the gods?"

  Emmet paused, considering. "I am a pilgrim. I've traveled, looking for altars, visiting them. But I never made it my purpose." Then, a thought. A memory. "But... yes. There is one."

  Eanne nodded. "That's good," she murmured. "Those altars were used for travel. The gods used them to visit their worshippers—to share blessings. But now, they are gone. And I am not sure if those altars still serve their purpose."

  Emmet fell into thought, theories unfolding in his mind. "So that's what they were used for?" It explained so much. "That means... the reason demons perform rituals near them—it's because of the altars. Some are close to them, while others aren't... but maybe they're still connected." His thoughts spiraled, forming complex structures, turning into intricate equations—until—

  "Umm... are you still there?" Eanne interrupted him, her voice light with amusement. "Who are you talking to?"

  Emmet blinked, returning to reality. "Sorry—I get lost in thought when I start thinking about things."

  Eanne smiled, shaking her head. "You're a weird one."

  Emmet chuckled—he didn't take offense. "Yeah. I know."

  Then, a shift. A revelation. Eanne turned toward the remnants of the shattered crystal, her gaze thoughtful. "We can use it."

  Emmet frowned. "The crystal?"

  "It absorbed power from outside. It was used to preserve me." Her voice grew quieter. "And it was my mother who placed me inside... to ensure my safety." Then—she stopped. She hesitated. And Emmet noticed the flicker of deep frustration across her face. "I'm sorry. I can't tell you that."

  Emmet's posture straightened—not demanding, just listening. "Why?"

  Her lips parted—then closed again, as if an invisible force held her words captive. "Some divine power restricts me from telling you. It's like... I've lost pieces of my memory." She touched her own temple, searching for something that wasn't there. "I am trying to remember... but there is nothing." Something was controlling this. Not her will. Not her choice. And Emmet knew—whatever had sealed her here, whatever had buried her beneath Hollow Town, was far more powerful than anything he had faced before.

  Emmet's thoughts raced, urgency tightening in his chest. "I need to get out of here." The town—the people were in danger. The Malice Bloom was coming—maybe tomorrow, maybe today.

  Eanne, sensing his desperation, tilted her head slightly. "What is a Malice Bloom?"

  Emmet explained everything—its arrival, its chaos, its overwhelming destruction. Eanne listened intently, absorbing his words, piecing together her own understanding of the event. "So... it was created by the Chaos God, huh?" Her voice carried familiarity, like she was recalling a distant childhood story, something she had once known but buried away. "It's so like him."

  Emmet frowned, curiosity sparking. "You know about him?"

  "He was the strongest of all the gods. But he separated himself from the others. My parents told me that the Chaos God chose seclusion because he didn't want to harm others—or cause disaster to anyone. His nature was chaos itself, but he was benevolent." She paused, eyes flickering with memories just out of reach. "But I remember that he never appeared, never mingled, not even among the gods. He created the Malice Bloom... I know he did it for a reason. He was not evil—in fact, he was the kindest. But whatever he did always had... consequences."

  Emmet absorbed her words, trying to piece them together with what he already knew. "You said the Malice Bloom weakens?"

  "Yes." He nodded. "That was written in the books. But I've never seen it for myself." And so, he shared more—his experiences in the north, what little he knew, and the pieces of the world that she had missed. Eanne listened, understanding the shape of this new world through his words, but only in fragments.

  Then, he exhaled sharply, determination setting into his form. "I need to save those people somehow. At least, I should try."

  Eanne nodded, thoughtful. "I know a way. But... it's a one-time thing."

  Emmet's expression hardened instantly. "What is it? How?"

  "You'll have to do it. I can't. I'm powerless for now. I tried to use some of my abilities, but... I can't access them." Then—a realization. "But maybe you can." She turned toward the crystal shards, their glow dim but still present. "These shards, they were used to seal me—to protect me." Her voice wavered slightly, as if searching for a memory that wasn't there. "I don't know why or how. Somehow, my memories were erased. Perhaps... my mother erased them." She clenched her fists slightly but continued. "But we can use these shards to seal the humans from above."

  Emmet's gaze sharpened. "You said it's a one-time thing. Why?"

  "The crystal is losing its power. We are running out of time. If we are going to use it... you will have to do it now." Her expression steadied. "You will seal them using these shards. I will link to you, and through you, I will seal them away."

  Emmet didn't hesitate. "If it's possible—then do it."

  Eanne looked uncertain. "It's risky. I don't know if it will work."

  "Let's try. If we don't, they'll die anyway."

  She frowned, studying him. "Are you heartless?" she asked. "I thought you genuinely cared."

  Emmet sighed, shaking his head. "I'm just being practical."

  Her gaze softened, unreadable. "It's not that I don't want to help them," he admitted. "But I will, at least, try."

  "Okay." She took a breath. "Here's the plan." She outlined it with precision. "We will seal them using these shards. Once sealed, the crystal will bury itself underground—protecting them from the Malice Bloom."

  Emmet's breath steadied. "So... that's what happened to you."

  She nodded. "Yes. And after a week or two, they will be released. Maybe we can adjust the depth—make sure they wake at the right time."

  A moment of silence passed between them. Then— "Alright. Let's do it." "First, we need to collect the shards."

  Eanne wasted no time, moving swiftly. One by one, the shards vanished—as if swallowed by thin air.

  Emmet froze, watching in shock. "What just happened?"

  Eanne turned, blinking at him. "What do you mean?"

  "The crystals... they disappeared!"

  She smiled slightly. "No. I sealed them away." She folded her hands gently. "It's hard to explain. I sealed them into my innerspace."

  Emmet's brows furrowed. "Your... what?"

  "My innerspace. It seems it's the only ability I still have access to."

  He blinked. "That's possible? It's like a storage ability?"

  She tilted her head slightly, correcting him. "Not storage—sealing."

  Emmet paused, still trying to grasp the subtle difference. But he didn't argue. Instead, he smiled slightly, shaking his head. "Alright. Then let's get out of here."

  And together, they prepared to face the world above.