The wind howled across the white expanse, biting through cloaks and skin alike. Snowflakes drifted like spirits in mourning, and beneath Kael's boots, the glacier groaned with secrets long buried. Valdareth—the lost city of the North—loomed before them, not with towers or gates, but with jagged spires of frozen ruin piercing through the ice like the bones of a fallen giant.
Kael pulled his cloak tighter, his breath misting in the air. "So this is it. The place where the Ember King fell."
Beside him, Aerin touched the hilt of her sword. "Not fell. Was betrayed."
They descended a narrow crevasse carved by ancient magic and time, its walls glittering with veins of old fire frozen mid-battle. The remnants of scorched stone, fused with ice, hinted at a forgotten war waged in both fury and fire. This was no ordinary ruin. It pulsed with something... waiting.
Torches lit, they advanced through a half-collapsed archway bearing the crest of the Ember Crown. In its center, half-buried in the ice, was a mural—charred and fractured—showing a cloaked figure handing the Ember Scepter to a shadowed king whose eyes were black flames.
Kael's voice dropped. "That... isn't my father."
A tremor ran through the ice.
Erys, kneeling near the wall, frowned. "Something stirs beneath us."
Then the whispers began. Soft, cold, unintelligible. Not words, but memories. The ice was speaking—not with a voice, but with echoes. Kael staggered as a vision seized him.
He stood at the heart of Valdareth—alive and whole, fire roaring through the city. His father stood on a throne of obsidian, smiling. Then the smile twisted. Blades were drawn. Betrayal lit the night in crimson flame.
Kael gasped and collapsed to his knees, clutching his head.
"Kael!" Aerin shouted.
"I saw it..." he whispered. "The betrayal wasn't from the outside. It came from within."
Behind them, a low growl echoed in the cavern.
From the shadows emerged a creature wrapped in frost and bone—a sentinel of the past, forged to protect what should never be found.
Kael rose, drawing his blade as flames sparked to life in his veins.
The wind howled across the white expanse, biting through cloaks and skin alike. Snowflakes drifted like spirits in mourning, and beneath Kael's boots, the glacier groaned with secrets long buried. Valdareth—the lost city of the North—loomed before them, not with towers or gates, but with jagged spires of frozen ruin piercing through the ice like the bones of a fallen giant.
Kael pulled his cloak tighter, his breath misting in the air. "So this is it. The place where the Ember King fell."
Beside him, Aerin touched the hilt of her sword. "Not fell. Was betrayed."
They descended a narrow crevasse carved by ancient magic and time, its walls glittering with veins of old fire frozen mid-battle. The remnants of scorched stone fused with ice hinted at a forgotten war waged in both fury and flame. Every step deeper into Valdareth felt like a descent into memory—someone else's, or perhaps Kael's own. The weight of legacy pressed heavier with each breath.
Behind them, Erys wrapped herself in her silverweave shawl, eyes scanning the shifting shadows. "This place is cursed," she muttered. "The air sings of sorrow."
"It's more than that," Thane said quietly, running his gloved fingers along a cracked column. "This city was the heart of Emberreach's last stand. The traitor kings who joined the Flamebound swore loyalty here... in blood."
Torches lit, they advanced through a half-collapsed archway bearing the crest of the Ember Crown. In its center, half-buried in the ice, was a mural—charred and fractured—showing a cloaked figure handing the Ember Scepter to a shadowed king whose eyes were black flames.
Kael's voice dropped. "That... isn't my father."
"No," Thane replied grimly. "It's Malric. The First Flamebound. Once your father's closest friend."
A tremor ran through the glacier floor.
Erys, kneeling near the wall, frowned. "Something stirs beneath us."
Then the whispers began. Soft. Cold. Not words, but memories. The ice was speaking—not with a voice, but with echoes. Kael staggered as a vision seized him.
He stood at the heart of Valdareth—alive and whole, fire roaring through the city. His father stood on a throne of obsidian, smiling. Then the smile twisted. Blades were drawn. The chamber filled with screams as fire clashed against corrupted shadow.
Kael gasped and collapsed to his knees, clutching his head.
"Kael!" Aerin rushed to his side.
"I saw it..." he whispered. "The betrayal wasn't from the outside. It came from within. The king's own Circle turned against him. And the scepter... it was shattered here."
A cold silence followed his words.
Then a low, ancient growl echoed in the cavern. The mural behind them cracked, and from its broken center, something stirred.
A creature emerged, wrapped in frost and bone. Towering, with hollow ember eyes and a crown of frozen ash—it was a sentinel of the past, forged by the king's final breath to guard his greatest shame.
Erys stepped back, her voice barely a whisper. "A Memory Warden... we should not be here."
Kael rose slowly, the weight of generations settling on his shoulders. "We need answers. And this thing won't give them freely."
He drew his blade. Flames licked up the edges. The creature bellowed, and the glacier itself trembled in response.
"Then let the past test the future," Kael said, stepping forward, fire awakening in his veins, his eyes glowing with the spark of his lineage.
The Memory Warden lunged, and the battle for the truth began.
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