The sea wind howled like a wounded god.
Jason stood atop the cliffs of the Shattered Coast, his cloak thrashing against the salted gusts. Below him, endless shards of black rock pierced the waters like broken teeth. Lightning forked silently across the skies, illuminating the twisted coastline that had once been whole.
"The Seal here wasn't just broken," Elias said beside him. "It was torn out."
Vaelra's face had turned pale. "This is where it began to unravel—the first Anchor to fall, the first Gate memory to fragment. And..."
Jason finished the thought. "...Where my father vanished."
---
They descended toward the shoreline, careful not to touch the glimmering stones. These were Memory Shards, remnants of the Anchor Fortress that once stood here—now fractured and half-sunken beneath the waves.
With each step closer, the pressure increased. Jason could feel something pulling at his soul, as if the coast itself remembered him.
Nyra knelt beside a shard embedded in the sand. She touched it gently.
"I hear... whispers."
Jason approached. He laid his palm on the stone. Instantly, the world blurred—and the shard released a vision.
---
The past returned.
Jason saw his father—Elric Deynar—younger, fierce-eyed, standing in the heart of the Anchor Fortress. He held a staff carved from Voidglass, shouting to unseen figures.
"They are lying to us! The Anchors—Vaelra, Theryn—they're hiding the Gate's true origin!"
Another Anchor's voice boomed back: "Silence, Elric! You will bring ruin to all bloodlines if you continue this madness!"
Jason's father turned to a mirror-like wall, speaking softly now. "Then let the Gate judge me."
A flash. An explosion of glyphlight.
Then the vision ended.
---
Jason stumbled backward, breath caught in his throat.
"He found something," he said. "Something the Anchors wanted buried."
Vaelra turned her gaze away. "Your father was... different. He was chosen to be the Ninth Anchor. But he vanished before he could complete the bond."
"Because he refused to lie," Jason said quietly.
Kael stepped forward. "So what now? We dive into cursed waters, hoping to find ghost-memories and relics?"
Elias looked at Jason. "No. We awaken what your father left behind."
---
At the center of the shattered bay, a lone spire rose from the water—tilted, cracked, but glowing faintly with dormant energy. It was once the Heart Spire of the Fortress, and within it, the Seal had been bound.
Now it trembled.
Jason led the way. They sailed in silence on a small skiff carved with Vaelra's sigils, waves parting unnaturally as they neared. Every breath grew heavier, as if memory itself resisted intrusion.
Inside, the spire was a tomb of echoes.
Stained glass hung broken from the ceilings. Chains—once symbolic—now lay scattered. Glyphs no longer glowed, but bled a dull crimson.
Jason approached the central dais. Upon it sat a hollowed throne, and resting atop the seat was a mask—his father's mask.
---
As Jason reached out, a barrier of light exploded.
From behind the throne, a figure emerged, half-shadow, half-light—not Hollowborn, but something else.
"You are not him," it whispered. "You are not Elric."
Jason steadied himself. "I am his son."
The figure trembled. "Then you carry his fracture."
"Who are you?"
"I am what remains of the Librarian of the Spire. I remember everything."
The entity approached, pieces of its body flickering like old pages. "If you seek to reclaim your father's legacy, you must first face his Final Memory."
Jason's pulse quickened. "Show me."
---
The Spire darkened.
The Librarian's arms spread wide, and the walls bled light. Glyphs spun in circles, and the floor dropped away—Jason fell into memory.
He stood in a room lined with burning script.
Elric Deynar knelt before the Gate's echo. Around him were Anchor fragments, visions of Vaelra, Theryn, and the others—but broken, distorted, arguing like phantoms.
Elric looked up, weary. "I tried, Jason. I tried to stop the cycle. But I failed."
Jason watched, helpless.
"Listen to me," Elric said, as if speaking to the future. "If you find this, go to the Deep Gate beneath the Obsidian Root. The truth lies there. Not in books. Not in relics. But in the Gate's forgotten name."
The memory collapsed.
---
Jason awoke in the Spire, gasping. The others watched anxiously.
"He left a path," Jason said. "A place called the Obsidian Root."
Elias stiffened. "That's beyond the Hollow Territories. No one's returned from there."
Vaelra nodded. "It's where the Gate touches the oldest veins of the world. If he went there... he was searching for the origin."
Jason stood. "Then that's where I'm going."
Kael cursed under his breath. "You're serious?"
"Always," Jason said, taking the mask from the throne. "And I won't go alone."
---
Back on the shore, as the sun broke the storm-line and morning washed the coast in amber light, Jason stood with the mask in hand. It was carved not just with glyphs—but with tears. Not carved by Elric, but by those who mourned him.
Jason turned to the group. "We follow his path. To the Obsidian Root. To the truth behind the Gate."
Vaelra stepped forward. "Then the next Seal will be the most dangerous yet."
Elias added, "We'll need allies. Ones who still remember the first world."
Jason looked out to sea, then upward.
"No more shadows. No more lies. We end the forgetting."