The wind howled across the basalt cliffs of Calethar, now broken and hollow after the awakening of the Obsidian Wound. The stars above had dimmed slightly, as if recoiling from what had been revealed—and what had been unleashed. From the edge of the cliff, Aelric stared down into the abyss that once pulsed with hidden light, now dark and silent. The resonance in his chest—the song of the stars—felt distant, veiled behind some unseen veil.
Behind him, the others gathered again.
Liora stood with arms folded, her shoulder still bandaged from the last battle. The flame in her eyes had not dimmed, but a new edge of caution shadowed her face. "He's quiet again," she said, glancing at Aelric. "Since we left the Wound."
"Something in there... changed him," Thalin murmured as he tightened the leather binding around his spell tome. "Or perhaps it changed something inside all of us."
Nyara prowled near the gate's fractured base, her starlit fur faintly glimmering in the gloom. "The path is fractured. But not closed."
They had regrouped in the ruins of a once-mighty celestial waystation—the final mark on the old star maps before the Void Expanse. Here stood the Whispering Gate, a towering arch carved of nightglass and celestial bone, humming softly with voices none could decipher. Old paths etched in luminous glyphs circled its threshold, a riddle left by the Starborn before them. Aelric had not dared touch it.
Until now.
He turned. "This is where we part from the sky we know. If we step through, there's no promise of return. The Gate doesn't just lead elsewhere—it leads... beyond."
A tense silence followed.
Then Kaelin, the quiet archer from the southern wilds, stepped forward. His bow was slung over his shoulder, his expression solemn. "The lands we swore to protect are already bleeding from within. What waits beyond this gate may be the cause. Or the cure."
Liora grunted. "And if it's the former, then I want my blade to meet it first."
Even Thalin nodded, his gaze never leaving the symbols etched into the arch. "We must go. But before we do, there are decisions to be made."
Tensions and Tethers
Around the makeshift fire, the companions spoke one by one. The loss of the starlit sentinels. The corruption seen rising in distant regions—the Hollow Forest, the drowned citadel of Nymorath, and the chasm-torn skyfields where once floated the twin moons. It was clear: the veil between the realms had begun to thin.
Not all of them were sure the Whispering Gate was the answer.
"I pledged to follow the Starborn," said Ser Dain, the wandering knight whose path had joined theirs in Ythar. "But I also pledged to my people. And they need blades in the real world—not wandering dreams."
"Dreams shape the waking," Liora replied, her tone softer than usual. "This isn't about chasing shadows—it's about understanding the source."
Even the healer, Sira, found herself torn. "I've seen too much rot spreading through the leylines. If this... journey beyond can stop it, I will go. But not if we walk blind."
All eyes turned to Aelric.
He met their gazes. "I don't pretend to understand what lies ahead. But I can feel it—pulling, waiting. The stars chose me for this path, not because I'm ready, but because I must be. I won't ask any of you to follow unless you choose it freely."
One by one, they chose.
And so the decision was made.
Through the Gate
The Whispering Gate stirred to life as Aelric laid the star-shaped amulet against its center. Runes lit from within—soft, mournful, like starlight buried beneath centuries. A low sound echoed from its frame, like a choir singing in reverse.
The arch flared open.
On the other side was not darkness—but something worse: an endless reflection of stars that twisted as one looked, a corridor of infinite paths, each beckoning, each false.
They stepped through.
The Realm of Shifting Echoes
The Gate closed behind them with a sound like a sigh.
They were no longer in Eldoria.
Here, the stars did not hold still—they moved like thoughts, drifting through skies that pulsed with emotion. Land twisted around them, half-formed, shifting as if it remembered being dreamed. They stood on a plateau of silver sand, where each grain hummed with a name no one could speak.
"What is this place?" Sira whispered.
"A memory," Nyara replied, voice hollow. "This is where forgotten things gather."
They walked. The terrain changed beneath each step. Forests of glass bloomed and shattered. Rivers whispered secrets in the tongues of the dead. But worst of all were the mirrors—flat obsidian pools that reflected not just the traveler, but what they might become. Many faltered here.
Thalin stopped before one such mirror and saw himself cloaked in voidfire, casting spells of ruin. "If we linger too long, we might become what we fear."
Aelric touched his shoulder. "Then we don't linger. We walk on."
The Return of the Hollow Flame
Three days passed—or perhaps moments, or perhaps years. Time had no allegiance here.
On the fourth day, they encountered a creature.
It rose from a pit of molten reflection, cloaked in a mockery of the celestial flame. A beast once Starborn, now fallen into corruption—a Hollow Flame Warden, twisted by Voidfire and Memory. Its voice was rage incarnate.
"You do not belong."
Its attack was sudden.
Kaelin fired arrow after arrow, each one swallowed by the beast's armor. Liora lunged, blade igniting in defiance, while Ser Dain moved to flank.
Thalin's voice rose in incantation, weaving protective wards.
And Aelric—he stood unmoving, until the creature's gaze fell upon him.
The amulet at his chest flared bright.
For the first time in this realm, the stars answered.
Light surged from his palms, not as fire, but as remembrance—the echo of what the creature once was. In a blinding clash, the Hollow Flame screamed—not in pain, but grief—and shattered into stardust.
Silence fell.
No one spoke of the tears on Aelric's cheek.
The Endless Road Ahead
After the battle, they rested near a grove of floating stones. In the sky above, a city of inverted spires floated, tethered to the air by music alone.
"This place was once sacred," Thalin said quietly. "Built by the Architects of Dawn. Before even the Starborn."
"But now it's broken," Liora added. "Just like everything else."
Aelric stood, the stars reflecting in his eyes.
"No. Not broken. Waiting."
They would go there next—the City of Unspoken Names, lost to legend and time. What knowledge lay there could be the key to understanding the full shape of the void—and the final truth behind Aelric's inheritance.
But as they prepared to move on, a presence stirred in the reflection stones.
A whisper. A name spoken in the dark.
"Kael'Ruun."
Thalin's face paled. "That name is forbidden."
From the mirror emerged not a beast—but a man. Or what had once been one.
Eyes like starless pits. A cloak made of lost futures.
The true threat had found them.
And it had been waiting far longer than any of them had guessed.
~to be continued