Reincarnated as the Last Dragon Egg-Chapter 26: The void :End of a new cycle

Let’s descend into the oldest Cycle—the one that remembers nothing... and everything.

---

Book Two – Chapter Nine: The Void Remembers

---

The ground hadn’t stopped shaking since Stone joined me.

It wasn’t tremors. Not earthquakes.

It was warning.

Because now, five forces pulsed through my core—each a living truth:

Flame, fierce and unyielding.

Storm, wild and proud.

Time, silent and watchful.

Mind, sharp and dangerous.

Stone, enduring and ancient.

But the sixth?

The one stirring now?

It wasn’t a force.

It was a hunger.

---

Signs in the Sky

That night, the stars didn’t shine.

They moved.

Shifted into unfamiliar constellations, rearranging like symbols in an ancient spell.

Solin read them aloud, voice trembling.

> "The Void stirs.

The Flame strays.

The Past bleeds.

The End returns."

Kaela drew her sword. "That’s not a prophecy."

Neriya whispered, "It’s a reminder."

---

The Broken Temple

The next morning, we reached the edge of the world.

Literally.

A black canyon stretched before us, miles wide, swallowing light, wind, even thought.

Hovering over it, tethered by impossible chains: a shattered temple of obsidian and bone.

The cylinder in my hand pulsed:

> Cycle: Void

Location: The Maw of Thal’Kaeth

Bearer: Unknown

Warning: "He remembers Darian. He remembers everything."

A bridge formed beneath our feet as we approached—made of memory, flickering with scenes from my lives.

Me. Bleeding. Screaming. Failing.

Every step was a step into my own regret.

---

The Voidbearer

Inside the temple, silence ruled.

No echoes.

No weight.

No walls—just absence shaped like a cathedral.

And in its center stood a throne made from fractured oaths.

Seated upon it—

A figure.

Cloaked in nothing.

Eyes hollow.

Face familiar.

> My face.

But older.

Hollow.

And burning not with fire...

...but with void.

He stood slowly.

And smiled like a man greeting an old friend.

> "Welcome back, Darian."

---

The Reflection of Failure

I froze.

Kaela moved to protect me—but the void held her in place.

Solin gasped. "Is that... you?"

Neriya whispered, "No. It’s what he could’ve been."

The figure stepped forward.

> "You left me behind. In a life you chose to forget.

I remembered. I endured. I watched.

Every Cycle you broke, I rebuilt.

Every truth you embraced, I erased."

He opened his arms.

> "I am not your opposite. I am your other half.

The Darian who gave in.

The one who let go.

I am your Void."

---

The Choice

He offered a hand.

> "Join me. End the pain. The struggle. The endless rebirth.

Become the Darian who doesn’t fight anymore.

Who simply... forgets."

The void behind him pulsed.

Softly.

Beckoning.

It would be easy.

So easy.

To let go.

To forget Kaela.

To erase Neriya.

To burn out the flame and silence the storm.

And then I saw them.

My friends.

Fighting to stay.

Fighting to believe in me.

---

The Refusal

I stepped forward.

Raised my hand.

Touched his chest.

And whispered:

> "You’re not my shadow.

You’re just the version of me...

that lost."

I ignited every Cycle in my body at once.

Flame. Storm. Time. Mind. Stone.

And drove them into him.

He screamed.

Split.

And vanished—erased by light.

The temple collapsed.

The void screamed.

And something ancient shrieked beneath it.

But I did not fall.

---

The Sixth Core

As we stood on the edge of the void, my chest pulsed once more.

A new flame lit within me.

But it wasn’t fire.

It was stillness.

The absence of fear.

Of weakness.

Void, bound not in corruption—but in control.

The Voidbearer was gone.

But his echo lingered.

A hush settled over the canyon—as if the world itself was holding its breath.

I stood at the edge of creation, six forces now burning, humming, sparking beneath my skin:

Flame, bright and defiant.

Storm, fierce and free.

Time, patient and precise.

Mind, sharp and vast.

Stone, enduring and resolute.

Void, cold and infinite.

Each one alive within me.

And yet... something was missing.

---

The Cylinder’s Silence

For the first time since this began, the cylinder didn’t glow.

No prophecy.

No new Cycle.

Just silence.

Kaela stared at it, confused. "Did it break?"

Solin shook his head slowly. "No. It’s waiting."

Neriya narrowed her eyes. "Waiting for what?"

Solin looked at me.

> "You. To choose."

---

The Last Choice

That night, we camped beneath a sky with no stars—just swirling grey, like the heavens had become one giant eye waiting for a blink.

I sat alone at the cliff’s edge, the six elements swirling like constellations beneath my skin.

And then... the Unwritten spoke again.

Not in words. Not in whispers.

But in absence.

> The air forgot how to carry warmth.

My name vanished from the dirt beneath me.

My shadow grew still.

And then—an offer.

> "You have gathered the fragments.

But fragments are not stories.

You are ready to be the End.

Or the Beginning."

---

Birth of the Seventh Cycle

I stood.

The cylinder in my hand cracked down the middle.

Light poured from it—not gold, not silver—but every colour at once.

And from it, a single word appeared:

> Cycle: Creation

Status: Unwritten.

My heart thundered.

I turned back to the others.

Kaela stepped forward. "What is it?"

I looked at my hands.

And whispered:

> "It’s the Seventh Cycle.

And I’m not part of it.

I am it."

---

The Power of Origin

Creation surged into me like wildfire through dry forest.

But it didn’t burn.

It built.

Where Flame destroyed, Creation forged.

Where Storm scattered, Creation summoned.

Where Time measured, Creation bent.

Where Mind questioned, Creation dreamed.

Where Stone endured, Creation shaped.

Where Void erased, Creation chose.

And now... I stood with it all.

Whole.

For the first time.

> I wasn’t the Cyclebreaker anymore.

> I was Cycleborn.

---

The Unwritten Descends

The sky finally cracked.

A tear—like ink across parchment—ripped through the air.

And through it came the Unwritten.

No shape. No body.

Just a living scar in the fabric of reality.

It didn’t scream.

It simply unmade.

Trees vanished.

Mountains dissolved.

And at its center—

A mouth.

> "You were meant to end.

You dared to begin.

So now... we erase everything."

---

The Final Stand

I stepped forward.

Flame flickered behind me.

Storm swirled at my feet.

Time slowed for my heartbeat.

Mind whispered paths into the dark.

Stone held me steady.

Void silenced my fear.

And Creation—

Creation opened my hand and made light.

Not just light to see.

But light to write.

> "You can’t erase me," I said.

"Because I am the page now.

I write my own ending."

The Unwritten shrieked.

And rushed forward.

---

End or Beginning

Kaela and the others stood with me.

Not behind.

Beside.

Together, we channeled every Cycle.

And I raised my hand.

Not to destroy.

But to start.

I wrote into the air with light. novelbuddy-cσ๓

One final line:

> "Let the world begin again—different. Whole. Unwritten no longer."

And the void—

Vanished.

End of a new era : everything ends , twelve years later

Twelve Years Later

The world had changed.

Not with a scream, but with a breath.

The skies no longer bled ash. The seas no longer forgot their names. The people had hope again—not because they were told to, but because they’d seen a man become more than fate.

That man... was gone.

And in his place stood a world still trying to understand the shape of peace.

But peace does not come without consequence.

And not all creation remains silent.

---

North of Emberwatch, in the Quietlands

A child ran through golden grass, chased by wind that carried the scent of rain.

Her name was Isen.

Hair like flickering stormlight. Eyes a deep violet burn. Barefoot, untamed, wild with laughter.

She didn’t know what she was yet.

But the world did.

Behind her, a ripple tore through the sky. A shriek—small, sharp, unnatural—like parchment tearing in reverse.

The air folded.

And from that fold, something watched.

Isen paused.

Her smile faded.

Then she spoke, voice calm, like it had heard this before:

> "You’re not supposed to be here. He sealed you."

The sky responded.

> "He is gone."

---

Emberwatch – Rebuilt and Glorious

Kaela stood at the top of the new Flamespire Tower, wind rustling the red banners that bore the Cycleborn crest.

She had not aged much—just enough to carry the weight of legend in her bones.

Below, the children of the next generation trained.

Some wielded sparks. Others floated stones or whispered to wind.

The Cycles had not vanished.

They had passed on.

Reflected in the bloodlines of those brave enough to carry them.

Solin approached, silver now threading his beard.

"Another rupture," he said. "West of the Shardsea."

Kaela frowned. "How bad?"

He hesitated.

Then handed her a small, flickering sketch—drawn by a terrified scout.

A black figure.

Eyes glowing.

Body cracked with light.

A name written beside it in fear:

> Thalen.

---

A Familiar Name Returns

Neriya read the name over Kaela’s shoulder.

Her shadow curled tighter than usual.

"That name..." she whispered. "He bore it once. Before Darian. When the Void was strong."

Kaela nodded slowly.

"And now it’s returned—without him."

---

Isen’s Discovery

That evening, Isen returned home to a cottage near the Whispering Cliffs.

She lived with an old man with no name—blind, silent, always smiling.

He lit her candles. Braided her hair. Told her nothing.

Because she already knew everything.

She stood at the cliff’s edge now, eyes narrowed.

A fragment of memory—not hers—burned behind her eyes.

A man made of flame and light.

A scream swallowed by stars.

A hand reaching through creation.

Then—

A word, whispered from the air itself:

> "Cycleborn."

The source of this c𝐨ntent is freewe(b)nov𝒆l