Far beyond the highest peaks, beyond even the flight of dragons, there existed a place forgotten by gods and time: the Crypt of the Silent Aeon.
There, in eternal darkness, six figures remained still. They did not speak. They did not breathe. And yet—they perceived.
One of them, a being whose body shifted endlessly with changing symbols, opened his eyes.
— He has been summoned.
Another, whose face was a mask of steam and bone, let out a deep exhale.
— Not a hero. Not a king. Not a demon. Something older. Something even we cannot define.
— What name did he take?
— "Albert."
A dry chuckle echoed through the cracked vaults of the crypt. It was not mockery—but disbelief.
— A name so mundane, for a being so vast?
— Precisely why he is dangerous.
Albert walked alone along a mountain path. Not because he needed it—but because choosing to follow it meant something.
Kaelya followed from a distance. She could not understand him, yet she could not stay away. His presence had become a magical gravitational center. Even the silence around them seemed conducted by his will.
— Where are we going? she asked at last.
Albert did not stop. Did not turn.
— Wherever curiosity leads me.
— And if it leads to death?
— I'll be the first to meet it without fear.
In the distance, a plume of smoke rose from a burning fortress. The echoes of battle, exploding spells, and human screams rolled through the air.
Albert halted.
— So… the choice comes sooner than I thought.
The fortress of Miereth was aflame. A neighboring kingdom, corrupted by an unknown entity, had attacked without warning. The defenders fought fiercely, but the enemy felt infinite. Soldiers moved too fast, too uniformly—something was wrong.
Kaelya drew her spear and stepped forward.
— We have to help!
Albert didn't move. He watched the flames, the walls, and most of all—the energy.
— These bodies are empty.
— What do you mean?
— They're not alive. Nor dead. They're inhabited. Used. An old form of magic… but imprecise.
A massive figure clad in obsidian armor stood atop the outer wall, radiating grotesque power.
— I am the Voice of the Horde! he bellowed. This fortress shall fall to sin!
Albert raised a brow.
— The Voice of the Horde… a title too loud for a mind that weak.
Kaelya ran toward the gate. At that moment, the walls exploded. Dozens of warriors with blank eyes surged from the fire.
— What do we do!? she shouted.
Albert closed his eyes for a moment.
— Rewrite the scene.
He raised one hand. Instantly, the battlefield twisted. The warriors froze. The fire stopped. The air turned cold like the void between stars.
A magic circle appeared beneath the Voice of the Horde. Then...
— True Spell: Echo of the Authentic Being.
The figure was torn apart from within. The controlling magic shattered. His body crumpled like a broken puppet.
Albert walked calmly toward the gate. The soldiers stared at him like he was divine.
But all he said was:
— I was curious. I'm not anymore.
And he left, vanishing into silence.
Far above, in a sky that gods rarely touched, one of the Hidden Deities looked down.
— He does not fight. He rewrites. He does not intervene. He evaluates.
— What is he?
— A question without an answer.
The world was not ready to understand him. But it had no choice.
Because Albert didn't ask for permission.
He walked.
And the world wrote itself behind his steps.
Even the rain had stopped.
Albert walked calmly through a forest where the trees had translucent bark and ghostly white trunks. The leaves never fell, yet they whispered a continuous, ancient song—one only summoned beings could understand. Albert did not smile, but his eyes held a quiet melancholy, as if the forest spoke in forgotten words.
Kaelya caught up to him, exhausted.
— How long has it been since you've slept?
— Since sleep stopped meaning rest.
— That sounds poetic.
Albert stopped and turned. The wind halted with him. Beyond the forest, the air shimmered.
— No. Just a conclusion.
The ground trembled faintly. From the north, a royal caravan approached. Dozens of people, a noble procession with purple banners and gleaming armor. But they did not look confident. Every step was guarded, tense. In the center, a young man walked with his head lowered.
— A prince? Kaelya asked.
— More like a target.
Albert stepped toward the road. Not stealthily. Deliberately. The caravan froze. Guards drew blades. Archers raised bows.
— Stop where you are! one commander barked.
— Silence, Albert said.
His voice was low. Yet everything fell quiet. Even the armor ceased to clink.
The prince looked up. A teenager, with intense blue eyes, widened in disbelief.
— Are you… the one from the prophecy?
Albert stared.
— I'm not in any of your prophecies. But I might become the reason you rewrite them.
The commander stepped forward.
— Are you invited to the capital?
— No.
— Then leave. We don't want trouble.
Albert took a single step. Soldiers flinched.
— I'm not here for you. I'm here for him.
He looked at the prince.
The boy stepped forward, hesitant.
— My name is Elion. Heir of House Lytharn.
— My name is Albert.
— What do you want from me?
— To see.
Kaelya gripped her spear.
— See what?
Albert turned slightly.
— How much a future is worth, when written by a heart not yet shaped.
Elion fell to his knees. Not out of fear—but from something deeper. Recognition of a presence beyond rank, blood, or divinity.
Albert extended a hand.
— Rise. You are not my subject. You are my witness.
In the palace of Naesyr, a queen with hair of ice and a crown of smoke felt a tear in the threads of royalty. A servant collapsed at her feet.
— The presence… it's with Prince Elion.
The queen rose slowly.
— Prepare the sanctuary. If Albert enters this city… we must have an offering ready.
Elsewhere, in an ancient magical academy, a young apprentice named Riven lost consciousness during a simple exercise. His heart had pulsed in sync with a colossal unknown force—a magical pressure that made him see a cloaked figure with black eyes like a starless sky.
No one had said the name. But Riven whispered it:
— Albert…
Back on the road, Kaelya asked:
— Why Elion?
Albert looked toward the horizon.
— I didn't choose him. I sensed him. He's one of those who can learn to see with the heart, not the eyes.
— And if he chooses wrong?
— Then we'll have a fallen hero… or an interesting new problem.
Behind them, the caravan continued in silence. But the world had already begun to whisper.
Albert walked. Elion followed. Kaelya stayed near. And with every step, the world rewrote itself behind them—one choice at a time.
The wind had grown harsher. Not with fury, but with unease—as if somewhere beyond the horizon, balance was beginning to shatter. Albert kept walking. He hadn't changed his pace even once since entering this world. But behind him, Elion's footsteps were no longer timid. The young prince had begun to look beyond appearances.
Kaelya had noticed the shift. The boy who once trembled before a colossal presence now began to straighten, to ask questions, to seek.
Albert said nothing. He let Elion approach, but never invited him. Elion had to define himself.
— I wonder… if I had chosen a different path today, would you have left without a second glance? Elion asked.
— I never look back, Albert replied. Only forward—or deeper.
— And what do you see when you look deeper?
— A world afraid of its own truth.
In a clearing ahead, a little girl sat on a stone, swinging her legs. Her hair was ink-blue, her eyes covered with a silk band. As the group approached, she smiled.
— I wondered when you'd arrive.
Albert didn't seem surprised.
— You can see?
— Not with eyes, but through the thread. I am Iri, daughter of Torsath. I see you in the strands of every decision. You are a knot. Or a blade.
Kaelya knelt instinctively. She didn't know who the girl was, but the power radiating from her was nearly as heavy as Albert's—though different. More subtle. Like a code written on the back of time.
Elion stepped back. Albert, however, stepped forward.
— What do you want?
— Nothing. Only to know if you're the one who cuts the thread… or weaves it.
Albert closed his eyes for a moment. In his silence, something strange unfolded. The wind circled around Iri, and the trees bent their branches without a sound.
— I've been both. But here… I don't yet know.
Iri laughed—not like a child, but like an ancient being remembering cosmic jokes.
— Very well. Then I'll give you a seeing. Not a vision. A seeing.
She touched Elion's forehead. His body lurched, but he didn't fall. His eyes widened, and his pulse thundered in his temples.
— What… what did you show me? he asked, breathless.
— A glimpse of what could be… if you choose to see.
Kaelya looked sharply at the girl.
— Who are you really?
— One of the Three. The ones who do not interfere, but send warnings. That's all we can do… when he is here.
Albert locked eyes with her for the first time, his gaze sharper.
— And if I choose to ignore the warnings?
— Then you'll create one of the most beautiful tragedies ever written.
She vanished. No flash. No storm. Just… gone.
Albert said nothing.
— You knew her? Kaelya asked.
— No. But I understood her.
— And what does "one of the three" mean?
Albert turned and kept walking.
— It means the game is older than it seemed.
Beyond the mountains, in the Northern Kingdom, a being known only as The Architect With Fire In His Heart opened a book made of thoughts and blood. Touching a mark on the first page, he whispered:
— So, the line has been drawn. Albert walks. And where he walks… reality must reshape.
The book caught fire—but did not burn. The flames revealed hidden pages. And in the center of one… a new word appeared.
"Elion."
That night, under a clear sky, Kaelya asked:
— What were you in your world?
Albert answered after a long pause.
— Something that wouldn't have a word here. Nor a title. Maybe, one day, I'll show you.
— Why not now?
Albert looked up at the moon.
— Because in this world… it's the first time I'm not required to show anything.
And then, from the darkness, from a forest without end, came a thin laugh. A sound like a blade on glass. Then two figures emerged. Shifting shadows that smoked as they moved.
Albert stood. Elion clutched his chest, sensing the same vibration one feels just before a lightning strike.
— Who are they?
— Those who seek to test what they cannot comprehend.
Albert closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the sky darkened for a heartbeat. And the entire world began to tremble.
The shadows moved without footsteps. Their presence didn't disturb the air nor leave marks on the ground. They weren't beings—they were intentions given shape. One resembled a man with arms too long, reaching to his knees, and a mouth sewn shut with silver wire. The other was smaller, but covered in blinking eyes, each one scattered across its form and pulsing in sync with Elion's heartbeat.
Kaelya raised her spear, but Albert lifted a hand.
— No.
— But… they feel hostile!
— Not yet.
The many-eyed shadow blinked all at once.
— Are you the one written in ash?
Albert showed no expression.
— I'm the one who burned the parchment.
The stitched-mouthed figure vibrated. From it, a voice came—not spoken, but pushed into the minds of those present.
— You are what we cannot classify. In all tongues of the world, there is no term for you.
Elion took a step back.
— They're not attacking… but it's like they're absorbing us.
Albert stepped forward. The ground beneath his feet turned to glass for a moment.
— You are the Harbingers?
The many eyes slowly closed in sequence.
— We are. We came to test coherence.
— Of reality? Kaelya asked.
— Of him.
A black ray struck from the sky—a silent bolt that landed between Albert and the shadows. The ground did not break, but time in that place ceased. Fallen leaves hung motionless. Sounds became suspended.
Albert took one step forward.
— You want to fit me into a system.
— Yes.
— You can't.
— We will try.
The shadows fused. They grew taller. From their shape emerged a black tree, its branches spreading in every direction, each holding a mask. At the top bloomed a mouth, massive and unnatural.
— Classification Initiated.
Kaelya pulled Elion back.
Albert stood firm.
— Begin, but you won't finish.
He raised a hand into the air. He didn't touch anything—just moved.
From Albert's body emerged a form. Not a copy. Not a projection. But a version—a pure concept, born of intent. It stepped forward toward the shadow-tree and spoke a single word:
— Refuse.
All the masks fell from the branches. Time collapsed for a second. And reality… recalibrated.
The tree vanished. The shadows were no more. The sky returned to normal. Sounds returned.
Elion fell to his knees.
— What… did you do?
— I let them try. And showed them they're not the authors.
Kaelya was pale.
— You're more than a summoned being.
Albert looked at her with a slight softness in his gaze.
— That's the first thing you've said… that's almost true.
At the same time, in the Sanctuary of Books That Cannot Be Burned, a page from a forbidden volume ignited on its own. Servants fled. The head librarian scribbled a line in panic:
"Contact confirmed. Classification: impossible. Solution: global suspension of all predictions."
Albert resumed his walk. Elion followed. Kaelya glanced one last time behind them, where the tree had stood. Nothing remained.
— What if they return?
— They won't dare. Not after seeing what I am.
— And what are you?
Albert didn't answer. But at that moment, even the forest fell silent.
After the shadows vanished and the world regained its rhythm, Albert, Elion, and Kaelya descended from the forest into a valley cloaked by unmoving clouds. The air was dense, as if time itself hesitated in the presence of what lay ahead.
At the base of the valley stood a spiral-shaped structure burrowed into the earth. It wasn't a building—it was a wound in reality. A magical well whose water didn't fall but surged upward, pulsing like a liquid column into the sky.
Albert stopped.
— The Azrial Fountain. The last place where an unspeakable word was ever uttered.
Elion stared, uneasy.
— I read about it… in the hidden texts. They say whoever drinks from it becomes something else.
Kaelya held her breath.
— What kind of "something"?
— Something the world can't absorb without breaking.
Albert walked to the edge of the spiral. The water reached toward him, as if recognizing him. A shape emerged from the column—a silhouette nearly identical to Albert, but with white eyes and no shadow.
— A reflection? Elion asked.
— No. A "what if."
The figure spoke.
— If you had chosen to destroy instead of observe, this is what you would've been.
Albert approached his double.
— And what would you have done, if you were free?
— I would've ended suffering through total annihilation.
— And what would you have become?
— Alone.
Albert reached out and touched the form. It dissolved into a wave of cold light.
— That's why I chose otherwise, he said.
The fountain dimmed. The sky briefly cleared.
Kaelya said nothing more. Elion felt that each step beside Albert brought him closer—not to truth, but to something beyond it.
At the edge of the valley, a figure watched. A woman clad in jade armor and a cloak of smoky birds. One eye was covered, the other burned like a dying sun.
— Visual confirmation: Entity Albert. Initial contact denied. Passive surveillance activated.
She drew a rune-stone and recorded:
— Subject interacting with alternative reality manifestations. Risk level: unlimited. Predictive impact: zero.
And vanished into smoke—as if she'd never been there.
Albert turned to Elion.
— What you saw today isn't a lesson. It's a warning. The world you were raised in… is not the world that's coming.
— And what is coming?
Albert halted, then said without inflection:
— A world without roles. Only choices. And in that world… everything you don't choose becomes a burden.
The sun set slowly over the forest. But the forest did not age. Albert climbed another hill, with Elion and Kaelya quietly following behind.
Beneath the ground, the fountain still vibrated.
And deep within, in a bottomless place,
someone—or something—opened its eyes.
Not from slumber.
But from memory.
The wind rose between the black leaves of a forest that appeared on no map. Albert, Elion, and Kaelya crossed a silent land where birds did not sing and shadows did not follow the light. Time seemed to flow only for them.
Elion stopped beside a fallen trunk.
— I feel strange… as if every place I step on was once dreamed by me.
Albert glanced sideways at him.
— It's not a dream. It's resonance.
— Resonance with what?
— With a version of you that's walked this path… on another route.
Kaelya swept her hand through the air, where particles moved in reverse.
— Is reality unstable here?
Albert nodded.
— Not reality. Perception. These places don't show you images. They offer you choices.
Suddenly, a voice echoed from the trees.
— Truth is, not everyone chooses. Some just get pulled.
A woman stepped out of the mist. She wore red armor made of scorched bone plates, and her hair flowed like a river of congealed blood. A broken crown rested across her forehead, and a chain coiled around her left arm.
Kaelya raised her spear.
— Identify yourself!
The woman laughed—a sound with echoes of an open grave.
— I am Solenne. Former Awaiting. Current Dissonance.
Albert slightly lifted his head.
— How many still follow you?
— Two. But enough to cause a fracture.
Elion felt a chill. Solenne floated without touching the ground.
— I came for him, she said, pointing at Elion.
Albert stepped between them.
— He's not ready.
— And you decide that?
— No. But I prevent the decision from coming too soon.
Solenne shook the chain. The air cracked around Elion. Voices spilled from the breaks. Children. Kings. Versions of himself. Each shouted a different choice.
— I will split him into multiple paths. That way I may choose the one that suits us!
Albert raised one hand.
— No.
— Why? What does it matter to you?
— Because no choice made by force is real.
Her chain unraveled on its own.
Solenne stepped back. Her hair turned to ash.
— You… are already outside the cycle.
Albert moved closer. Not in anger. In compassion.
— You could have been something beautiful. But you chose distortion.
— I shattered because silence was swallowing me.
— Then let me give you a sound that never dies.
He raised a finger. In that moment, a musical note rang—pure, belonging to no instrument, only to an untainted heart.
Solenne trembled. Then vanished. Leaving behind only a white flower with no stem. Only existence.
Elion collapsed to his knees.
— What was that?
— A choice that could no longer be saved.
Kaelya knelt beside him.
— Were you supposed to stop her?
Albert shook his head.
— She came to break you, to remake herself. But you resisted. You chose not to rush into a decision. That protected you.
Elion held the flower.
— Then I'll keep it. As a memento for those who didn't make it.
Albert gave a faint smile.
— Your first words that sing of truth.
In another plane, where unmade choices gathered like shadows, a faceless figure said:
— Albert becomes harder to predict. Soon, he won't be trace… but origin.
And a voice in that void replied:
— That's why… we must greet him, not chase him.
Under the light of a moon that didn't belong to the sky, Albert, Kaelya, and Elion climbed one last crest. From there, the city of Naesyr was clearly visible.
— The final step, Kaelya said.
— No, Albert corrected. The final step of the first act.