The moment Kael, Lin, and Aelira crossed the threshold of the Forsaken Gate, the world dissolved around them.
There was no sense of falling, no motion at all—only the sudden absence of everything they'd known. The pull of gravity, the echo of their steps, even the sound of breath vanished. Then, like a breath held too long finally released, reality reformed.
They stood in a realm of impossible geometry.
Skies twisted with colors unknown to mortal eyes, mountains floated inverted above mirrored oceans, and across the horizon, rivers of starlight flowed between ruined temples built from memory itself. This was no ordinary world—it was a reflection of existence. A memory of what had been, and what could yet be.
"The Realm of Memory…" Kael murmured, his voice distant, as if spoken from across ages.
Aelira stepped cautiously onto the glass-like ground. Her reflection didn't mirror her movements. Instead, it showed her younger self—naïve, uncertain, and afraid. She quickly looked away.
"This place…" Lin said, arms wrapping around herself, "It's not meant for mortals."
"No," Kael agreed. "It's meant for echoes. For truths that refuse to die."
As they walked deeper into the realm, their surroundings shifted with every step. Structures of forgotten civilizations rose and crumbled around them—empires that had never existed in their reality, gods that had never been worshipped, victories that had never been won.
Kael's path led them toward a towering monument: a twisted spire of crystal and shadow, pulsing like a heartbeat. Its surface was covered in carvings—scenes of celestial wars, primordial beings forging pacts with mortal kings, and a cloaked figure who bore Kael's sigil centuries before him.
"The first Pactbearer," Kael said. "He came here… and left something behind."
As they approached, a voice boomed from the base of the spire—not hostile, but heavy with the weight of time.
"You seek what was lost. But memory has a price."
A being emerged from the spire's shadow. It had no defined form—just fragments of faces, voices, hands reaching in and out of reality. It was a Memory Warden.
"Prove your identity," it said. "Prove you are not a trespasser, but a successor."
Kael stepped forward. The sigil on his arm shimmered, casting light that shaped itself into the ancient glyphs of the Pact.
"I am Kael, bearer of the First Sigil. I seek the truth of the covenant broken."
The Warden studied him in silence, then extended a hand of flickering energy.
"Then face your forgotten self."
Suddenly, Kael was torn from his body—his consciousness flung into a swirl of images, like pages torn from time.
He stood in a war-torn world.
Armies of winged titans and shadow beasts clashed. At the center of it all was a figure in black armor, his face hidden—but Kael knew it was him. A past incarnation. A warrior-sage who had led the rebellion against the gods themselves.
This memory Kael stood on a battlefield strewn with the corpses of the divine. He held a dying child in his arms—a child of both light and shadow.
"This was the price of defiance," the Warden's voice echoed through the vision. "You chose to challenge the order… and you lost."
Kael dropped to his knees. The pain of the memory wasn't physical—it was emotional, existential. A grief so deep it had no bottom.
And yet, he stood.
"That wasn't the end."
Kael turned toward his past self and reached out—not to fight, but to accept. The vision shattered.
He returned to his body with a gasp.
The Warden knelt.
"You remember. You are worthy."
The spire behind them cracked open, revealing a staircase that spiraled down into lightless depths.
"At its bottom," the Warden said, "lies the Codex of the First Pact. But beware… memory is not the only thing that lingers in this place."
Kael looked to Lin and Aelira, who nodded without hesitation.
Together, they descended into the forgotten cradle of the covenant.