The Moonlight Monastery had always been quiet.
But that morning, the silence felt like a forced illusion. The air in the halls was heavier, as if carrying the weight of something unseen.
Ilya felt it first in the prayer room.
She was whispering her daily mantra, yet her voice didn't echo within her own mind. Not because she was deaf—but because the room no longer recognized human sound.
She opened her eyes. The silver cross in her hand... felt cold. Too cold.
> "The Ladder... begins to pulse..."
She whispered it without meaning to, her voice more an echo than speech.
And behind her—though no one stood there—she felt a gaze.
—
Meanwhile, Kael returned to his room. But the world around him was no longer the same.
His footsteps made no echo. The air didn't shift as he moved. Even his shadow on the floor seemed... out of sync.
Something had changed.
He stared at his hand. The mark from the night before had vanished, yet its presence clung like an unhealed wound. And more than that—he began to hear.
Voices from the walls. From the floor. From the ceiling. From places beyond this world.
> "Ascension has not begun... but the Ladder has fractured."
> "He saw too soon."
> "The world isn't ready for a writer."
—
In the central hall, the Guardian sat motionless.
In his hands was a small fragment of the monastery's central symbol—the Holy Ladder. It had cracked. The crack wasn't natural. It felt like... a reaction from within.
Eluon stood beside him. "Is this... because of him?"
The Guardian nodded.
"Kael didn't just witness a Mark... he's touched his own script."
"Then this isn't about mere Ascension?" Eluon asked.
The Guardian stared at the ceiling. "No. This is... editing."
—
And in Kael's chamber, Ilya stood at the doorway, hesitant.
Kael turned.
For a moment, no words passed between them. But Ilya looked into Kael's eyes—and she knew. The boy was no longer the same. Something had emerged from beneath his flesh and soul. And that something... was not just deep, but foreign.
"Ilya," Kael said softly, "Do you believe... this world can be misled by one person?"
Ilya gave no answer.
She knew: no answer would ever be enough.