Deep beneath the Tribunal's fortress, in a place where light refuses to stay, lies a room forgotten by history — a vault not built by human hands, but shaped when the stars were still learning how to burn. For centuries no one dared to open it. Not out of security… but fear. They called it the Vault of Forbidden Memory.
Inside it rested a single object. Not written. Not forged. Born. A book that breathes. Its cover was living obsidian, its spine laced with veins of black light, pulsing with the rhythm of a heartbeat that seemed older than existence itself. It had no hinges, no pages — only pain.
And now… it opened on its own.
The Tribunal came rushing down, their robes whispering against the frozen stone. Even the oldest among them shivered. None had dared touch the book. It was never meant for mortal hands. It was only meant for one moment in all of time — the day he starts to remember. And now that day had come.
They formed a circle around the pedestal as the object hovered in its strange glow. One voice trembled. "We were told this would only move when the impossible happened…" Another answered, "Then the impossible just did."
The book did not open like parchment. It split apart with a soundless scream, a rupture that bled memory into the air. Smoke, blacker than the absence of light, spilled upward, shaping into faces, broken empires, burning stars… and then him. Mirshad. A silhouette rising through fire, sword in hand, crowned in silence.
A voice older than thought spoke without words — its meaning seared directly into the soul. He was not born. He returned. You feared his power… but it is not his power you should fear. It is his memory.
The vision deepened. Before your kings, before your gods, before light took its first step… he was. You worshipped gods born from fire, wind, and war… but they were born because he allowed them to be. He wrote the laws of the stars. Then erased his own memory. To live. To walk among mortals. To feel peace. To forget. And in forgetting, he gave balance to all things… until you interfered.
The shadows twisted, showing the Five. The ones you sent were soldiers, but not yours. They were born in the void after he disappeared — a fragment of the true darkness. Their mission was not victory. It was confirmation. To see if the god had begun to stir. They did not fail. They succeeded. Because he remembered. Not all. But enough. Enough to become unstoppable.
The smoke shifted again, and the council saw glimpses of a future not yet written: Mirshad standing in the ruins of galaxies. Gods kneeling. Dark forces screaming in terror. A throne forged of light, yet the one seated upon it had no face, for destiny itself could not describe him. And the voice whispered, When he fully remembers… the sun will bow. Time will bleed. And the age of kings will fall.
The book's body turned once more — not through pages, but through fate itself — and etched a single word into the chamber floor: UNSTOPPABLE.
Then it crumbled to dust, vanishing as if it had never existed. One member collapsed to his knees. Another dropped a cup from trembling hands. The eldest of them whispered, "We were never the rulers… we were living in the shadow of his sleep."
The chamber went silent.
Because now they knew — he wasn't rising.
He was returning.
And they were not witnessing a man reclaim his place.
They were watching the author of existence pick up his pen again.