The Plateau began where the mist ended.Beyond the ravine, the earth rose in great, glassy shelves, scarred with veins of silver light that pulsed faintly beneath the surface. The air shimmered—thick with residual mana, heavy enough that each breath felt like drinking lightning.
Lyn stood at the edge, cloak snapping in the high wind. "So this is where the world tore itself apart."
—Not the world, Umbra murmured beside him. The gods. The Plateau is what remains when belief collapses.
Arden whistled low. "If this is what belief looks like when it dies, I'd rather stay faithless."
Rhea knelt, brushing her fingers across the luminous soil. "It's… humming. Like it's alive."
—It remembers every soul that ever reached for power here, Umbra said quietly. And every one that failed.
They began to move, their boots crunching softly on the crystalline surface. Around them, ancient monoliths jutted from the ground, half-melted and carved with forgotten runes. The air vibrated faintly with echoes—whispers too old to understand, yet somehow familiar.
"Umbra," Lyn said, eyes narrowing. "What exactly are the gods afraid of here?"
Umbra's gaze darkened. —Of themselves. The Veilscar is where they shed what they could not bear to keep.
Rhea frowned. "You mean their power?"
—Their guilt.
Silence followed. Even Arden had no retort.
As they crossed the plateau, Lyn's crest began to pulse erratically, flaring each time he stepped near a rune. Shadows warped under his feet; for a moment, his reflection shimmered on the glassy ground—only, it wasn't quite him.
"Did you see that?" Rhea asked, voice sharp.
"Yeah," Arden muttered. "His shadow moved the wrong way."
Lyn stared down. The image beneath him smiled—a faint, knowing curve that didn't belong to him. The reflection raised a hand, tracing the air. Words appeared across the crystalline floor in burning script:
THE FOURTH SEAL AWAITS. THE PRICE IS MEMORY.
"Memory?" Lyn breathed.
Umbra's wings rippled uneasily. —The Fourth tests what you are. To break it, you must forget something you cannot bear to lose.
"Then we find another way."
—There is no other way, Umbra said. Each Seal is a choice, not a command. The world only asks how much of yourself you're willing to offer to change it.
The ground shuddered. Far ahead, a pillar of light erupted from the center of the plateau, tearing through the clouds. Faint, distorted figures circled it—spirits or illusions, Lyn couldn't tell.
Rhea squinted. "That's it. The Fourth Seal."
"And it's awake," Arden added grimly.
They began to run. The mana wind intensified, rippling their cloaks, filling the air with the scent of ozone and burning stone. As they drew closer, shapes emerged from the mist—guardians of the Seal, formed from shattered mana and forgotten prayers.
Arden drew his blades, grinning despite himself. "Well, looks like we're not sneaking this one."
"No," Lyn said, eyes glowing faintly red and silver. "We fight."
The guardians lunged, a blur of translucent limbs and echoing voices. Lyn's shadow expanded behind him, and Umbra roared—a sound that tore through both spirit and matter. Rhea's flames collided with the storm, painting the plateau in streaks of gold and scarlet.
Arden moved like lightning, his twin blades singing as he cut through the phantoms.
In the chaos, Lyn pressed his palm to the pulsing sigil at the pillar's base. Energy surged through him—cold, sharp, endless. Memories flickered past: his mother's smile, the academy courtyard, the first moment Umbra spoke his name.
Then, a voice whispered from within the light. —Choose.
Lyn froze. "What?"
—A memory to give. A truth to keep.
The light swallowed him whole.
Outside, the battle faded. Rhea called his name, but the world was already folding inward, the Plateau devouring its own light.
Umbra's voice echoed faintly through the maelstrom. —Shadowborn… what will you forget to become what you must?
And then—silence.