The trees began to thin, giving way to bare stone and a slope carved by time itself. Lira and I stepped cautiously into the clearing beyond—no longer a forest, but a circle of cracked monoliths. The Spiral markings on each were etched so deeply into the stone it looked as though they had been burned into place.
The air was heavier here. Dense with memory.
"It feels... old," Lira whispered beside me, her hand instinctively reaching toward mine.
I took it.
We passed the last line of trees and stood before the final monument: a black altar of smooth obsidian, half-buried under ash and moss. Atop it rested an orb the size of a heart, pulsing with pale violet light. Its glow flickered like it was breathing—or dreaming.
[System Notice: Final Memory Node Detected — Resonance Threshold Met]
[Warning: High-Emotion Residue Present. Host mental strain possible.]
Lira held back as I stepped into the ritual circle. The moment I crossed the boundary, the temperature plummeted. A ring of blue flame spiraled up from the ground, marking the edges of the altar's domain.
"It doesn't want me," she said.
"No," I replied. "It wants me. It always has."
I reached out and touched the orb.
[Memory Vision: Seluriel – Final Day of the Moonbound Flame]
Silver moonlight bathed a stone amphitheater on the cliffs of an endless sea. Wind howled like mourners. Seluriel stood at the center, wounded and dimmed—her once-radiant wings now darkened, with streaks of scorched ivory trailing down her robes.
A crowd gathered around her. Not in reverence.
In judgment.
The Spiral Priests stood behind a masked herald, chanting in tones that coiled like smoke through the night.
"You defied the Pact," the herald intoned. "You kept the Flame instead of offering it."
"I kept it safe," Seluriel said, her voice cracked but resolute. "Safe from you."
Behind the priests, children—some as young as Lira—stood with branded wrists and glazed eyes. Spirals burned into their skin.
The herald drew a blade—thin, curved, glistening like starlight reflected in oil. Seluriel took a single step forward and opened her palm.
The Moonkindled Flame flared.
A flame not of heat—but memory. Grief. Devotion.
The cult recoiled. They feared it.
Not because it could kill them.
But because it could remind them.
Then betrayal.
One priest—a younger one, his mask not yet tarnished—stepped forward. He knelt.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
Then he plunged the mirrored dagger into her ribs.
The world fell silent.
Blood and fire mingled in the wind.
Seluriel did not cry out.
Instead, she cupped her hand around the dying Flame—and smiled.
"To the next who bears it… don't let them silence you."
Then she collapsed.
The cliff shattered.
The Flame fell—into the forest, into the Vale—and with it, everything else.
[System Notice: Final Echo Absorbed — 100% Resonance Achieved]
[Hidden History Unlocked: The Moonbound Flame & The Birth of the Spiral Cult]
Seluriel was not a god. She was a guardian.
The Spiral Cult was formed not in worship—but in envy.
The Vale became cursed by her murder.
Her Flame chose Isaac.
[Skill Gained: Soulkindled Flame – Rank A]Bind your soul to the memory of the Moonbound Flame. Grants enhanced resistance to corruption and access to future soul-imbued fire skills. Passive: Spiral corruption resistance + moderate stat regeneration during nighttime.
I gasped and fell back from the altar, clutching my chest.
Lira rushed to me. "Are you—?"
"She was real," I choked. "And she was good. They destroyed her because she was stronger than them."
I looked around the clearing.
These weren't monuments to devotion.
They were the remains of a trial. A murder. A cover-up buried in time.
The orb at the center of the altar dimmed—then shattered into ash, carried away by a sudden breeze.
The sky overhead, once dull and grey, now shimmered faintly with streaks of violet.
As if something ancient had opened one eye… and was watching again.
Lira gripped my arm. "Isaac… something's waking up."
She was right.
Beneath our feet, the earth shivered.
And in the far distance, a low howl rose into the sky—not beast, not man.
Something in between.
The Spiral Cult hadn't vanished.
They'd been waiting.
And now, so was I.