The day Lucien Lachance joined Sithis was the day your heart took residence in the Void along side him. The day Lucien Lachance died, the world lost its shape.

The sun still rose, the wind still whispered through the trees, and the blood still dried on your blade. But none of it felt real. The colors were muted, the sounds muffled, as if the world itself had recoiled from the truth.

A silence in your soul where his voice used to be. No more whispered instructions, no more cryptic praise. Just a Void. Cold. Vast. Final.

He had been your mentor. Your shadow. Your tether to something greater than yourself. And now, he was ash.

You carried on, because that’s what he would have wanted. You completed the contracts. You played your part as Listener. But every kill felt hollow. Every night, you returned to an empty bed, whispering his name into the dark, hoping the Void would echo it back.

It never did.

Until now.

Your final breath rattles in your chest, the wound too deep to mend. You lie beneath a sky of stars you no longer recognize, the world slipping away like sand through your fingers. But you are not afraid.

Because you know where you’re going.

The darkness comes not as a thief, but as a lover. It wraps around you, warm and cold all at once, and pulls you under.

And then light.

Not the golden blaze of the sun, but a pale, silver shimmer. The Void is not empty. It is full of whispers, of memory, of presence.

He stands there, cloaked in shadow, eyes like dying embers.