The silence after the battle was unnatural.
The creature—no, the Servant—had vanished into the aether, leaving behind no corpse, no trace of blood, only a residue in the air that made my skin crawl. The kind of silence that screamed more would come.
Kieran stood beside me, his golden eyes narrowed, hand still clenched around his blade. Neither of us spoke for several minutes. The only sound was the soft rustling of wind through the cracked stone pillars surrounding us.
And then, quietly, he said, "It recognized you."
I nodded, my gaze fixed on the spot where the creature had stood. "It said… I was once one of them."
"That wasn't metaphor," Kieran muttered. "That was memory."
I didn't answer. I couldn't. Because some part of me knew he was right. The whispers, the visions, the moments of familiarity with powers I'd never seen before—this wasn't coincidence.
Something inside me had once walked among the very enemies I now sought to destroy.
And now that part was stirring.
Into the Temple Core
We advanced deeper into the ruins. The outer rings of broken structures gave way to more complete halls—narrow corridors built with eerie precision, as if the stone itself had formed naturally into perfect angles and smooth arcs.
We passed statues carved from black stone, depicting creatures that didn't resemble anything from this world—humanoid figures with antlers, eyeless faces, and elongated limbs. Some of them bore crowns of flame or halos formed from gears and broken chains.
"They weren't worshiped as gods," Kieran said beside me, his voice soft, like he didn't want to wake something sleeping. "They were worshiped because people were too terrified to deny them."
We stopped at a set of twin doors, each engraved with unfamiliar runes. At the center, a circular mechanism pulsed faintly—like the rhythm of a heartbeat.
"It's reacting to you," Kieran said. "That thing from before must've triggered something."
As I reached out, the device from the forgotten continent vibrated lightly against my side.
A soft glow spread across the metal circle.
Then… the doors slid open.
What lay beyond wasn't just another hallway—it was a chamber, massive and circular, its domed ceiling carved with celestial murals. Stars, moons, constellations—but all wrong. The sky they depicted wasn't ours.
At the center of the room stood a pedestal, and on it… a crystal.
But not like any crystal I had seen.
It pulsed faintly with a bluish-silver hue, and as I approached, the space around it seemed to bend, like heat waves in the air.
Kieran stepped forward slowly. "That's not just a relic…"
He reached toward it, then hesitated.
"I think that's a memory core."
The Memory of Another Life
The moment my fingers brushed the crystal, the world shattered.
I wasn't in the ruins anymore.
I stood on a field of endless darkness, beneath a crimson sky that churned like blood. All around me were voices—hundreds, thousands—whispering truths I didn't want to hear.
In front of me stood a man.
No—me.
An older version of myself, taller, cloaked in regal armor made of silver and obsidian. His eyes… my eyes… were empty.
Emotionless.
He held a scepter of light, and behind him stood armies of kneeling figures, their heads bowed in silent worship.
"You remember now," he said.
I shook my head. "Who are you?"
"You already know."
He stepped closer, and the whispers grew louder. I saw flashes—entire cities burning, people begging for mercy, and above it all, the image of me, seated on a throne made of bones and starlight.
I had ruled.
Not as a king.
As a conqueror.
"I did what was necessary," the memory said. "To survive. To build. To protect our people."
I clenched my fists. "You betrayed everything. You became what we now fight."
His expression remained calm. "And yet, without me, you wouldn't exist."
The memory core pulsed.
More images.
A giant gate, shattered by a blast of silver energy. A shadowed figure, impaled on a spear of light. An army made of flesh and machine, kneeling as the stars wept above them.
"You were one of us," the voice whispered again. "You led them."
"No," I gasped, stumbling back. "That's not me anymore."
"Maybe. But part of you will always remember."
And then—
The world snapped back into place.
I collapsed to my knees in the chamber, gasping for air. Kieran rushed forward, catching me before I hit the ground.
"What did you see?" he asked, urgency in his voice.
I looked up at him.
"My past."
A Name From Before
I sat against the wall for several minutes, trying to slow my breathing. Kieran didn't press me—he waited, letting me gather my thoughts.
Eventually, I spoke.
"I was a ruler. Maybe not here, but in another version of this world. I led… I don't even know what they were. They weren't just people. They were things born from belief and machinery. Things I helped create."
Kieran sat across from me, brows furrowed. "And you destroyed them?"
I nodded slowly. "Eventually. But not before I became something worse than them."
He was quiet for a long time before he finally asked, "Do you remember your name?"
I hesitated. The memory hadn't spoken it directly, but as I thought back to the whispers, one name echoed louder than the rest.
"…Valec."
Kieran's eyes widened slightly. "That name… It appears in a few of the forbidden scrolls. A general. A warlord."
I nodded. "That was me."
He stood, pacing.
"Then this changes everything."
I raised an eyebrow. "How so?"
Kieran turned toward me, his expression serious. "If you were Valec… then you're not just connected to the Forsaken. You're one of the only people who's ever defeated them."
A Growing Rift
We left the chamber soon after, both of us shaken, but focused.
As we emerged from the core of the ruins, the sky above had shifted—clouds gathered unnaturally, thick and swirling, though there was no wind.
"They know we found something," Kieran muttered.
I nodded. "And they won't let us leave without a fight."
Sure enough, as we made our way back through the outer halls of the ruins, the temperature dropped. The walls glistened with thin ice. Our breath came out in clouds.
Then—
From the shadows ahead, a figure stepped into view.
It wasn't like the last Servant. This one was different.
Taller. Clad in pieces of old armor fused to its flesh. Its eyes burned with cold fire, and it carried a blade that shimmered between metal and mist.
"You were not supposed to awaken," it said, its voice a blend of male and female tones, both echoing and hollow.
I drew my dagger. Kieran raised his weapon.
The creature smiled.
"Let us see if Valec remembers how to die."