When the black star lit the heavens, every oracle wept.
Not from sorrow.
But from memory.
Because that star wasn't new—it was a returning god, a thought long banished from the fabric of reality.
And it had a name.
Cael.
In the amphitheater of shattered time, the Traveler stared at the boy—the one he had protected, pitied, underestimated.
But now…
"You're the Forgotten King?" he asked, his voice nearly breaking.
Cael didn't answer immediately. He stood at the center of a spiral of ash, where the Echo had vanished. His form glowed faintly—like a candle trying to remember how to become a star.
"No," Cael finally said. "I am only a fragment. The true king was broken into seven."
He held out his hand.
A shard of obsidian hovered above his palm, humming with ancestral song.
"And this is my piece."
Elen knelt beside the Traveler. She was pale—too pale—and her skin pulsed with veins of violet fire. She was remembering more than her body could hold.
"She's not stable," the Traveler said. "This place is killing her."
Cael turned, eyes softening.
"Because she's standing too close to her truth."
He walked over, knelt, and gently touched her forehead.
"Sleep. For now."
And Elen… obeyed.
Her breath evened. Her fire dimmed. She curled against the broken vines of the throne, like a child lost in dreams.
"We need answers," the Traveler said, rising. "All of them."
Cael nodded.
"Then follow me. We're going back… to where all memory begins."
—The Astral Wound—
They left the Axis of All Ends behind, crossing a desert where time bled sideways.
Cael walked at the front, unbothered by heat or gravity. He whispered to the winds, and they bent away from him like loyal servants rediscovering their king.
"Where are we?" the Traveler asked, eyes scanning the sky—where constellations shifted like snakes.
"This is the Astral Wound," Cael said. "The scar left when the world tore itself in half."
He paused at the edge of a deep crater. Inside was nothing—not emptiness, not space, but raw forgetfulness.
"This is where the Last Covenant was broken."
The Traveler blinked.
"You mean… the oath that bound gods and mortals?"
Cael knelt, touching the edge of the wound.
"Yes. The gods broke it first. Then the mortals. And then the world itself said: no more."
He looked at the sky.
"When I was born, they feared what I remembered."
"Because I remembered how it used to be."
Flashback:
In a world where stars sang and mountains wept joy, Cael walked alongside beings of light.
He was not worshiped.
He was respected.
A king, yes—but also a listener. He had no throne, no crown, only a staff carved from the first tree.
Then came the First War.
A lie whispered into the ears of gods: "You are not enough."
And when they believed it, they tore open the sky.
Back in the present, Cael stood.
"I was shattered into seven and cast into time."
"You found one of me."
The Traveler frowned.
"And the rest?"
"Sleeping. Buried. Or… worse. Some don't want to wake."
Suddenly, the ground trembled.
Cael snapped to attention.
"They found us."
From the crater rose figures wrapped in rusted gold. Faces erased. Eyes like dying suns.
"Covenant Keepers," Cael whispered.
"Servants of the Broken Law."
The Traveler drew a blade made from the breath of storms.
"Then let's make them forget us."
The battle was like no other.
The Keepers fought with memory itself—turning regret into blades, guilt into chains. One Keeper whispered Elen's name, and she convulsed in her sleep.
The Traveler moved like fury unleashed, carving regret into ribbons.
But it wasn't enough.
Until Cael stepped forward.
He closed his eyes.
And whispered:
"I remember who I am."
The sky screamed.
The crater erupted in light.
The Keepers forgot themselves—their names, their purpose, their form—and crumbled into dust.
Silence.
The crater closed.
The stars dimmed.
And Cael collapsed.
The Traveler caught him.
"What did you do?"
"I stole memory… from them."
"But every time I do… I lose a little more of myself."