Outside, the storm had returned. Rain pelted the mountainside, wind screaming through the cracks in the stone. Inside, Arian felt alive—more alive than ever. Every heartbeat, every breath, every thread of blood energy pulsing within him reminded him that he was no longer a boy from a simple village. He was something else. Something far greater.
The guardians had revealed only the beginning.
And the world outside was already changing.
---
The fortress was silent that morning, the stone corridors bathed in a cold, gray light filtering through the narrow windows. Arian's footsteps echoed as he followed Kaelor through the twisting halls, every step a reminder of the discipline and secrecy of the **Fifth Gate**. He had grown accustomed to the rhythm of the fortress: training, observation, meditation. Yet today, something felt different—a tension in the air that made the hairs on his arms stand on end.
Kaelor stopped in front of a massive, ornate door. The carvings on its surface were intricate, depicting warriors battling ethereal shapes that seemed to shift when looked at from different angles.
"This chamber," Kaelor began, his voice heavy with reverence, "holds the records of our order, the knowledge of all who have wielded threads before you. It will guide you… if you are ready to see the truth."
Arian hesitated, the weight of anticipation pressing down on him. He had glimpsed power, fought shadows, and felt the pulse of his fifth thread, but knowledge… knowledge terrified him more than any blade or shadow ever could.
Kaelor opened the door, revealing a room lined with ancient tomes and scrolls. The air smelled of old parchment, dust, and faint incense. As Arian stepped inside, his eyes were drawn to a series of murals along the walls. They depicted figures whose faces were obscured by shadows, wielding threads of red, blue, and black. One figure, central in the composition, stood apart, holding a thread that glowed faintly, as if alive.
"Who… who are they?" Arian asked, his voice barely a whisper.
"They are your predecessors," Kaelor said. "And one of them…" His gaze shifted subtly. "…is the one who will return."
A shiver ran down Arian's spine. The words were cryptic, but something inside him tightened with unease.
---
Later that evening, Arian was alone in the training hall. The shadows seemed thicker than usual, the air heavier, almost suffocating. He flexed his hands, feeling the threads pulse faintly along his veins. The fifth thread—still untamed—throbbed in sync with his heartbeat, urging him forward, warning him, whispering secrets in a language he could not yet understand.
He was so focused on the subtle vibrations in his body that he did not notice the temperature dropping, nor the unnatural stillness settling over the hall.
Then came the whisper.
It was low, resonant, and filled with a cold, commanding authority.
"You… awaken again."
Arian froze, spinning toward the voice. There was no one in sight. Yet the words were real, tangible, slicing through the silence.
"Who's there?" he demanded, voice shaking, a mixture of fear and defiance.
A figure stepped from the shadows. Tall, imposing, with eyes like liquid red that glowed faintly in the dim torchlight. His presence alone distorted the air, making it ripple as if reality itself bent around him.
"I am **Orios**," the man said, his voice both velvet and steel. "And you, Arian… are exactly what I expected."
Arian's pulse spiked. He had heard whispers of the "Shadows," creatures that destroyed his village, but none had a name. None had a presence like this. And yet… a strange, uncanny familiarity tugged at him, deep inside, as if he had met this man before.
"You… you're not human," Arian managed, trying to hide the tremor in his voice.
Orios smiled faintly, a cruel curve that did not reach his eyes. "Human?" He shook his head slowly. "I was once human. But that was before… before everything changed."
---
The battle that followed was unlike anything Arian had faced. Shadows materialized at Orios's command, and Arian's threads lashed out instinctively. Red lines of energy sliced through the creatures, but Orios moved with preternatural grace, dodging effortlessly, countering with subtle movements that seemed impossible.
"You are strong… but untrained," Orios said as he struck. His hands glowed with a dark, crimson energy that mirrored Arian's threads but pulsed with a malevolent rhythm. "Your threads… they are mere sparks. I am the fire."
Arian's heart raced. He had trained for months, fought shadows, and controlled four threads with skill. But Orios was different—every strike, every movement, every glance seemed to anticipate him before he could act. And yet, the fifth thread pulsed faintly, almost impatiently, as if aware of the danger, urging him to awaken its power.
The fight ended abruptly. Orios withdrew into the shadows, his red eyes the last thing Arian saw before he disappeared.
"You will remember this encounter," Orios's voice echoed, lingering, "for the threads will lead you… and when they do, I will be waiting."
---
Arian collapsed, exhausted, sweat mixing with the lingering chill of the hall. His body ached, his mind raced, and yet beneath the fear, a spark of something else ignited: determination. He had seen a fragment of the danger awaiting him—and survived. Barely.
Kaelor found him hours later, still clutching his hands as if willing the threads to respond.
"You faced him?" Kaelor asked quietly, studying him. "You survived?"
Arian nodded weakly. "I… I don't understand. He… he knew me. Knew what I could do."
Kaelor's face darkened. "Then you have seen a shadow of the path ahead. Orios is unlike any adversary you will face. He wields forbidden power, stolen from another. He knows the threads… perhaps even your fifth."
Arian's pulse quickened. A part of him trembled at the thought—his untamed thread, the one forbidden, the one that might hold the key to survival, could be targeted, exploited. Yet another part—his heart, reckless and foolish—burned with the need to face the danger, to understand the mystery.
Outside, the storm raged again, wind howling through the mountains, lightning flashing across the horizon. Inside the fortress, Arian realized something profoundly unsettling: the threads inside him were awakening not just as weapons, but as keys. Keys to power, destiny, and a confrontation he was not yet ready to face.
And yet, a whisper, faint but insistent, came from within:
*You are not alone… and the threads remember.*
---