The morning light filtered through the rickety shutters of the room, drawing golden lines on the worn wooden floor. The air was still, wrapped in an unreal silence, broken only by the faint creaking of the beams. Though simple, the room retained an ancient elegance: a canopy bed covered with coarse sheets, a small table with a jug of water, and a wobbly-looking chair. On the wall, an oval mirror with a conspicuous crack reflected the sun's rays.
Shirei slowly opened his eyes, his body stiff as if he had slept for days. He pulled himself up with a soft groan and brought a hand to his head. He had believed the light would lead him into the trail, but he had been wrong, and that filled him with disappointment.
I failed again.
Then he processed the information sent by his sight and activated. His memory was a jumble of confused images, yet he was certain he hadn't fallen asleep there. Something had happened while he was unconscious.
He stood up abruptly and summoned the Blade of Discord from the Interworld, then scanned the surroundings with his violet irises.
"Finally awake, boss."
Reno's voice rose from the shadows beside the bed. The figure of the Tenebrae gradually took shape, his human form composed of pulsating darkness. Despite the spectral appearance, his presence was reassuring, as it showed he was still in control of the situation and hadn't been captured by the worshippers of the Saint of Tides.
Cragar's son ran a hand over his face. "How long has it been? What happened?"
The Tenebrae stepped closer, his indistinct features illuminated by the sunlight. "The temporal rift has reached the threshold."
"There was a reset while I was in the trail?"
"Six resets, to be precise. Sleeping is a luxury you apparently can't afford."
His voice carried a tone of irony, but there was a note of concern behind his words that Shirei caught immediately. He wondered if that understanding came from the magical bond formed between summoner and creature, or something else.
Have I improved my social skills?
He finally decided to set his thoughts aside and focus on the problem.
Six resets meant nearly an entire day within the rift, which Shirei could only hope matched the same amount of time outside. He had skipped that much time for information he still wasn't sure about.
That, however, also meant he had been brought to that room—according to his suspicions, part of the Verardi's tavern—only recently. The time of the sixth reset was already running, and he had to reach the church as soon as possible.
"What else can you tell me?" he asked the subordinate. "I also wanted to ask—this is Niccolò's tavern?"
"Correct, boss. I brought you here myself."
A silent pause followed those words, forcing Cragar's son to press the Tenebrae further.
"The other news?"
"Yeah, right. During the fifth reset, you narrowly avoided a tsunami. There's nothing that would've been funnier than seeing you tumble away from the water like a leaf, but I was forced to fight to keep you afloat."
Shirei swallowed, still massaging his temples, aching from the effort of staying within the Evanescent Trail.
Six resets… destroying this place is getting harder and harder.
He took a deep breath and asked, "What else happened while I was out?"
Reno moved toward the window, watching the city as it slowly came back to life. "Nothing else, boss."
"I know you're lying. I'm asking you to tell me everything you know and everything that worries you. Leave nothing out."
It was the first time he had seen him with such a serious and worried expression. Their meeting had been cathartic, as had his unjust death, but Reno had always seemed like a positive kid.Subconsciously, he felt he was in danger.
"It has to do with this place. I think there's someone here who's truly dangerous for you."
"You're talking about the Saint of Tides?"
The Tenebrae's darkness flickered briefly as he moved his head. "Worse. I fear the god of the abyss is an actual deity in the flesh."
The boy recalled the conversation he had had with the Calm Sovereign and grimaced.
Yes, your fear is well-founded, he sighed. "What about Niccolò?"
"Oh, him? There he is."
Reno gestured toward the door, where the figure of the young Venetian had silently materialized. Niccolò leaned against the frame with a serious, quiet expression. He seemed to have heard most of the conversation but showed no sign of surprise.
"I've already explained everything to him," Reno continued, tilting his head toward the prisoner of the rift. "He knows you're a Blendbreed, what a Blendbreed is, and that he's one of us… I mean, one of you. I'm dead."
Cragar's son turned toward Niccolò, who approached with a cautious step.
"So he already told you about the problem?" he asked, his tone suspicious.
"Yes."
Reno turned to him. "We talked about the rift and everything else while we waited for you to wake up. He's ready to bring this to an end."
The Venetian crossed his arms, his face shadowed. "I'm not as fragile as you think, Sir. Let me stand beside you—now and in the future, if God wills it."
The violet-eyed boy looked at him for a moment, weighing what words to speak. Niccolò seemed different than before. More determined, but also more tormented. Perhaps the truth he had discovered through Reno had struck too deep.
I destroyed his life in a heartbeat for the second time…
Now Niccolò knew he was nothing more than a pawn without freedom, and it was his fault. He had used him cruelly just to move forward with the mission.
"You acted like a god," whispered a small voice in his head. "But there are no alternatives if you want to achieve your goal."
Finally, he said, "We'll do everything we can to stop the cult of the god of the abyss and heal your mother."
"Thank you, Sir Shirei," Niccolò replied, the formal tone barely masking his deep gratitude. "Your… shadow," he nodded toward Reno, "reasoned with me about the simplest way to ensure I'm on your side in case of another time rewind."
"Modestly," the Tenebrae said with a smirk. "Back to us, boss—we've got a problem. You won't have the luxury of getting lost in your thoughts for much longer. We need to act."
"How long until the next reset?"
"Hard to say," Reno admitted. "About an hour."
Shirei nodded, his face calm and resolute. "Then let's not waste any more time. Niccolò, lead us to the church—but know there will be an unexpected event."
Terror passed over the Venetian's face, but he nodded with determination. "I can't let fear guide me anymore. Whatever the problem is, I'll face it."
"Your father will be there."
Twenty seconds passed before they heard, "Then my father will be one more obstacle to overcome."
Reno moved beside Shirei as they headed for the door. "You'd better stay sharp, boss. If we're right, what awaits us there won't be something we can fight."
The violet-eyed boy nodded and moved toward the staircase that would lead them to the streets of Venice. The path to the church had just begun, but the atmosphere already felt heavy with tension. Niccolò adjusted his cloak over his shoulders, watching Shirei with scrutinizing eyes. Since discovering the truth, the world seemed different to him—almost foreign. Cragar's son could only overlook it, imagining what the Venetian must be feeling.
"Before we get there… I need to know," the young man began, his voice low but steady. "These rewinds, the temporal rift… what do they mean? How does it really work?"
Shirei turned toward Reno, who wore a cloak to conceal his form from prying eyes. The Tenebrae looked at him with his usual smile.
"Didn't you say you'd managed to explain everything?" he asked. "Maybe it's better if you try again."
The shadowy figure stepped closer to Niccolò, as if considering how much he was capable of understanding.
"So," he began, with a tone sharper than usual, "you're trapped in a temporal rift, I already told you that. Think of a wave crashing against a cliff: every time it hits, the water pulls back, only to strike again. That's your world—this bubble-shaped zone enclosed in the rift. Every four hours or so, time resets, or rewinds, bringing you back to a predetermined point. But it's not necessarily always the same point, you get it? Same point in time for both of us, different in space for us, same for you."
Niccolò furrowed his brow, trying to absorb the words. "And why is that? What makes us different? Why was this cycle created?"
Shirei took the Tenebrae's place. "We don't know for sure, but this isn't the first rift we've visited. We can speculate: somethin. or someone, is using this bubble for a specific purpose. Maybe an experiment, maybe a sacrifice. And you, just like the others, are its prisoners."
The words fell into the avenue they walked, rolling over the cobblestones like stones in a deep well. Niccolò looked at the Blendbreed. "So it was true. Everything I know… everything I've done… it's not real? It's just a path predetermined by God?"
Shirei shook his head, his gaze cold, yet understanding. "Not exactly. It's real—but it's not a reality that matters outside. The actions you take in each loop are your freedom, but that freedom is limited by the will of Rakion, the god who created this rift."
The Venetian stopped, leaning against one of the walls lining the street, his gaze lost. "And my parents? My mother, the cult… is all this part of a distortion?"
"Yes," the Tenebrae replied in place of Cragar's son. "But that doesn't mean your choices have no weight. Every decision you make can change the outcome of the cycle. And if we find a way to break the rift, it will be thanks to you, too. Look at the bright side—you resurrect every four hours."
The young man clenched his fists, his face a mask of tension. "I devoted my life to following my mother and father, then to fighting the cult these past years. And now you're telling me it's all an illusion? That I'll never get past this day? That I'll never meet Lorenzo de' Medici?"
Cragar's son looked at him calmly, but with an intensity that pierced his eyes. "It's your reality. You have to decide what to make of it. But if you keep blindly following what they want, you'll end up just another expendable pawn."
Niccolò looked up. "No, I won't be a pawn. I need to know the truth. Sir, can we destroy the cult?"
Shirei nodded. "That's reason I'm here."
The church towered against the sky, a fusion of Gothic and Renaissance styles that gave the building an oppressive aura. They entered, eyes fixed on the light reflecting off the pool of water at the center of the main nave. Reno vanished, while Shirei and Niccolò stopped just beyond the entrance.
"It's unsettling," the Venetian murmured, trying not to be heard by the faithful slowly making their way to their seats.
Shirei didn't answer immediately, his gaze captured by a figure dominating the altar beyond the pool. Lyra Morosini, the Saint of the Tides,was exactly as he had seen her in the previous reset. Her blue hair flowed as if stirred by an invisible current, and her dress shimmered in a tone as deep as the ocean.
The woman's gray eyes scanned the crowd.
The faithful were enraptured, hanging on her every word as she began her sermon. Shirei tilted his head, reflecting on the effect that woman had. Her presence was charismatic, almost magnetic, but not enough to distract him from the thoughts sparked by the Placid's speech.
Damnatio Memoriae… Damnatio Memoriae…
As Lyra continued, he noticed movement among the crowd. Three hooded figures were shifting cautiously, sticking to the edges, avoiding the center of the nave. Their movements were too calculated, too coordinated.
They're a group, and they're not here to listen.
The Blendbreed tensed his muscles, ready to act. "Niccolò," he whispered. "Step back. They might be enemies."
The young Venetian looked at him with a mix of concern and doubt, but he nodded and moved toward the back of the church.
The son of Cragar advanced slowly, ready to summon his weapon before the anchor of the Temporal Rift could inhibit them. His violet eyes shimmered faintly, a signal of the potential he carried. He approached one of the figures and stopped.
"Stop," he said, his voice low but filled with authority.
The other two noticed the scene and rushed over.
"If you don't stop, I'll kill you."
He wouldn't actually do it. He hoped the threat alone would suffice, sparing him from intervening.
The three figures froze. Then, they pulled back their hoods simultaneously, revealing faces the Blendbreed knew well.
"Havel?"
Before him stood a tall, broad-shouldered young man, eyes burning with determination. Beside him, a woman with dark hair and a resolute gaze—Ada—and a third figure, Elaine, whose gentle and calm smile clashed with the tension in the air.
"Surprise, Purple," said the son of Sidal with an ironic grin. "Thought you'd gotten rid of me?"
Shirei stared at them for a moment, relief rising through the surprise. "I thought you were injured…"
"You mean that lunatic?" Ada cut in. "No. The hospital slowed us down a bit, but we had enough time to recover, and we rushed to get you."
Havel nodded and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You're an Equinox Flower. We couldn't just leave you alone."
The son of Cragar was glad to see Ada back to her usual self and that their leader had recovered—although it meant exposing them to the danger of this place.
Elaine stepped forward, cautiously eyeing the worshippers around them. "You should lower your voice, Havel. You're drawing too much attention."
The boy nodded, a smile escaping his lips. "You have no idea how happy I am to have you back, El. So, Purple, what's the plan?"
Niccolò crept closer, curiosity written all over his face. "These are your allies, Sir?"
"They are my companions. You can trust them."
Before they could say more, a gunshot echoed through the church. The sound shattered the sacred silence like sudden thunder. All eyes turned to the altar, where Lyra arched backward, a spreading blotch of blood blooming across her chest. The Saint of the Tides staggered, then collapsed into the pool of water at the center of the church, dragging a chilling silence with her.
Niccolò stared at the scene, heart pounding wildly. "What the hell!?"
The crowd erupted in panic.
Screaming worshippers shoved each other to reach the exits, trampling over one another in the chaos. Shirei remained still, trying to process what had happened. He turned sharply toward the Equinox Flowers, who, like him, hadn't moved, their eyes fixed on the pool. Niccolò, instead, stood just a few steps away from him, face pale and eyes wide with shock.
Who fired? wondered the Forbidden Heir, scanning the crowd. Firearms don't even exist in this era.
Before anyone could respond, a deep and unsettling gurgle rose from the pool. The water, once calm, began to boil, creating a whirlpool at its center. A bluish light ignited beneath the surface, pulsing like a heart.
"Damn Cragar—sorry, Purple—what's happening?" shouted Havel, drawing his weapons. "Watch out!"
A tentacle emerged from the water. It was enormous, covered in iridescent suckers, and waved in the air as if searching for something. A second tentacle followed, then a third—each one larger and more threatening than the last.
An inhuman scream erupted from the depths of the pool, a sound that seemed to come directly from the bottom of the ocean. The tentacles lashed out at the crowd, wrapping around the closest worshippers and dragging them toward the water.
One headed straight for the Blendbreeds.
"Move!" Elaine yelled, pushing Niccolò aside.
The tentacle grazed the Venetian, wrapping instead around the waist of the daughter of Mardi. The girl screamed and tried to break free, but the grip was too strong. Another slimy limb seized Ada, lifting her into the air, while Havel lunged at the creature, slashing through space with his axes.
Shirei stepped back and assessed the situation. He couldn't let his companions be killed. He closed his eyes and focused, allowing his body to slip into the Interworld.
If I use the Ethereal Pulse, I won't need to worry.
The tentacle that was about to grab him passed through his body, striking the stone floor with a dull thud. Still in his aetheric form, he watched the scene, scanning for the sniper who had shot Lyra.
No trace of the culprit.
Another burst of water distracted him, forcing his attention back to the creature. His companions were all trapped, along with several others, squeezed in the tentacles' grasp.
"Purple! Now would be a great time for your monsters!" Havel shouted.
Then a surge of electricity coursed through the tentacles, and the creature screamed in pain. In a blink, everyone was pulled into the pool and vanished beneath it. Shirei returned to normal and started running toward the water.
Niccolò grabbed his arm. "Sir, are you mad? Are you really diving in there?"
The son of Cragar didn't even look at him, his violet eyes fixed on the watery surface. "I have no choice."
"Wait! Please!"
Before Niccolò could say more, Shirei broke free of his grip and dove in, disappearing into the depths along with his companions.
The world around him seemed to collapse into a turmoil of darkness and water. He found himself sliding through a cold and suffocating vortex—again. The pressure clamped down on his chest like a vise. He did his best to open his eyes and find a direction, a massive tentacle missing him by inches.
I won't last long. The air in my lungs will run out soon.
With modest effort, he opened his eyes again and saw what surrounded him: it looked like the sea, but there was no sand or coral. The ground was far below, a dark, porous surface like volcanic stone, laced with cracks that emitted a faint blue light. Around him, natural columns rose toward the upper darkness—these were the pillars that served as foundations for the church.
Another tentacle whipped past him, this time even closer.
Shirei, with an instinctive surge, reached out and grabbed it. The surface was slick, and for a moment he seemed to lose his grip. With his free hand, he summoned the Blade of Discord and drove it into the creature's flesh, using the weapon as an anchor to keep from being dragged away.
The tentacle writhed violently, but he managed to hold on. He continued sliding downward, pulled by the force of the current. The deeper they went, the more the environment became alien—almost unnatural.
As they descended into the depths, the Blendbreed saw something that would have horrified ordinary mortals: a semi-open barrier. Tall and imposing, it was made up of a dense line of fixed, unsettling figures.
They were sentinels.
Each one was encased in a sarcophagus of chains that coiled around their bodies like infinite spirals, linking them to one another. Their faces were hidden, but from where their eyes should have been, a sinister blue light glowed.
Shirei observed them. The figures did not move, but their vitality was palpable.
This is the final transformation of those who drink the blood of the god of the abyss, he realized, remembering Niccolò's mother.
He tightened his grip on the Blade of Discord, but the creatures did not move to attack. They seemed to be part of a macabre signaling system, a role they had not chosen, prisoners of a higher will.
The Forbidden Heir shut his eyes again as the current intensified. The pressure on his body continued to rise, and the air in his lungs was nearly gone. Then, suddenly, he was slammed against a hard, rough surface. He coughed violently, spitting out salty water as he struggled to breathe.
He got up with difficulty, his violet eyes adjusting to the dimness that enveloped the space. It was a cave, but not a typical stone cavern. The walls looked alive—like the leathery tissue of a massive being. The curves in the rock twisted into a shape reminiscent of ribs, and water dripped from the ceiling in slow, rhythmic droplets—like tears falling in pain.
His companions lay scattered around him, either unconscious or struggling to catch their breath. Ada coughed softly, her face pale; Havel sat with his back against a wall, gasping. Elaine ran a hand through her wet hair and looked around with eyes wide from fear. She was trembling.
Niccolò, too, was kneeling a short distance away, his hands pressed to the damp floor as he tried to regain control.
"Niccolò? How did you get here?"
The Venetian smiled. "Sir… I'm… very fast in water."
"Where are we?" gasped the daughter of Mardi, her voice cracked with worry.
Shirei stood, scanning the darkness that seemed to stretch endlessly ahead of them. There were other human bodies sprawled across the ground—presumably dead worshippers. Finally, the tentacles of the monstrous creature, now dried and motionless, reached toward the body of Lyra.
The saint lay face-down in a pool of blood, unmoving.
Shirei sighed and turned his gaze back to the cavern.
It's like the corpse of something immense.
A god.
That was the response that echoed from a hidden part of his mind.
An unsettling silence wrapped around them. The only sound was the dripping of water—a slow, relentless rhythm that seemed to mark the time of their torment.
Then, from the depths of the cave, something moved.
It looked like it was made of water and mist—an anthropomorphic being standing tall against the darkness with an eerie majesty. It was chained and rose from a pool bordered by the figurative ribs of the creature that formed this grotto. Its face was covered by a cracked mask, as if it were on the verge of dissolving into nothingness, but its gaze was intense—two bright blue eyes shining like submerged beacons.
The god of the abyss.
Its arms were long, nearly disproportionate, and its skin held cold tones, as if it belonged to a sea creature. It wore the tattered garments of a corsair, leaving its chest bare, while a tail of seafoam green hair fell across its shoulders.
The being lowered its gaze and let out a bored sigh.
"Such a disappointment. Poor little Lyra."
The voice echoed in the cave, deep and resonant like the crash of a wave against a cliff. Ada slowly stood, bracing herself on one knee.
"Who are you?" she asked.
The being tilted its head, a gesture that almost seemed amused.
"You don't know who I am?"
The Blendbreeds didn't respond, but shifted into a combat stance, positioning Niccolò behind them for safety.
"Pathetic. I had high hopes for you, Blendbreeds." He pronounced the word as though it were one of the first times he had spoken it. "I am Nerio, lord of the abyss, sovereign of the depths, and master of the tides. I am an Ancient, a deity of the third generation. And you…" He paused, his gaze passing over each of them—except Shirei. "You are nothing but poor, unlucky mortals I will kill for sheer entertainment."
Havel clenched his fists, taking a step forward.
"We're not here to die," Elaine replied.
The masked god's laughter filled the chamber. "Oh, you're not here to die? What a bold statement."
A sudden motion caught Shirei's attention. The water on the floor began to stir, forming small whirlpools that drifted toward them.
Nerio raised his free hand, and the surrounding water rose with it—ready to drown them.
"Now, entertain me for a while."