The fires still clung to the walls of Volgrath Keep like the memories that refused to die. Smoke coiled in slow spirals overhead as Liam stood amid the aftermath, blade in hand, his breath shallow but steady. The guardian they'd faced had not just been a brute of fire and steel—it had been bound to something older, something mournful. Each strike they exchanged had pulsed with echoes of forgotten grief.
Nyra knelt by the scorched stones, fingers brushing faint etchings carved into the ground. They pulsed faintly beneath her touch.
"This wasn't a place of power," she murmured. "It was a prison. The flame-bound guardian… it wasn't guarding a fragment. It was guarding a memory."
Kael lowered his sword, face tight with unspoken frustration. "We're chasing shadows again. Another dead end."
Aeris stood by the crumbled archway, her silhouette sharp against the dim glow. She didn't speak immediately. Her eyes were distant, fixed on something only she could see. Liam noticed.
"You knew something like this would happen," he said quietly.
She didn't deny it. "There are echoes in this realm—memories so strong they warp space. Volgrath was one of them. Not a destination… a reminder."
Liam stepped closer. "Then what were we supposed to learn here?"
Aeris turned to him, finally meeting his eyes. "That the protectors didn't just scatter. They were hunted. And some were broken. This was one of them. He wasn't our enemy until the pain consumed him."
Nyra looked up, her eyes catching a glimmer beneath the soot. She drew something from the stone—an amulet, cracked and warm to the touch.
"There's something left," she said. "It's faint, but… maybe it can guide us."
As she held it aloft, the flames dimmed further, retreating into the keep's heart like a beast returning to slumber. The ground pulsed once beneath them, and a whisper filled the air:
"Three truths buried. One already found. Seek not just the fragments… but the pieces of yourselves."
The voice wasn't Elira's. It was older. And it chilled them deeper than the fire ever had.
They left Volgrath that night under a bruised sky, the stars veiled behind heavy clouds. Their camp was quiet, their fire small. Kael sharpened his blade out of habit. Nyra studied the amulet. Aeris sat apart, knees drawn to her chest.
Liam joined her, the silence between them stretching thin.
"You're not telling us everything," he said finally.
She didn't flinch. "Would you believe me if I did?"
"Try me."
Aeris exhaled. "I was born in the human world. Raised there. But my memories… they don't begin there. I remembered this realm before I ever stepped into it. I knew its skies in dreams, its winds in whispers. I thought I was insane for years."
Liam stayed still. She continued.
"A realmwalker found me. Told me I was one of the last bloodlines tethered to this place. A lineage hidden. I didn't believe him. Until the mirror showed me the truth. I've been crossing back and forth since I was thirteen."
Liam let the weight of that settle. "That's how you know so much."
She nodded. "And why I've lost so much. People don't belong in both places. Something always gives."
He looked into the fire. "Do you regret it?"
She smiled faintly. "Regret's a luxury for those with easy choices."
Before he could respond, Nyra called out.
"The amulet—it's reacting to something."
They gathered around. The stone pulsed softly, casting shifting shadows. Images flickered in the dirt—a map, not of places, but of people. Five points, scattered across the world. Each fading in and out like dying stars.
"They're alive," Nyra whispered. "The last protectors. Or what's left of them."
Kael leaned in. "If we find them—"
"—we might find the next fragment," Liam finished.
Aeris touched the map. Her voice was firm. "Then we move before the next memory traps us."
As the amulet dimmed, the direction became clear. A coastal ruin, half-swallowed by time and tide, where an old protector once waited. If he still drew breath—or memory—he might hold the key to the third fragment.
But far above them, unseen in the night sky, a silver eye blinked open in the clouds. Watching. Waiting.
And somewhere beneath the ruins, something stirred.
Waiting for their arrival.