The World That Should Not Remember

Noah staggered forward, his body aching. His hands still trembled from the fight, from the way his power had clashed against the Keepers. He had fought things he did not understand.

And yet, he had survived.

The ruins behind him were collapsing, dust swirling through the air, sealing away whatever remained of the battle. But Noah didn't stop to look back.

He pushed forward, toward the light.

The tunnel sloped upward. The air grew lighter, less suffocating. And then—

Fresh air.

Noah emerged onto a grassy hillside, the ruins hidden beneath the earth behind him. The sun hung low in the sky, dipping toward evening. The sky stretched vast and endless, clouds drifting lazily. The scent of rain lingered on the wind, and a distant treeline whispered with life.

Noah inhaled deeply.

For the first time since he had woken up—since the sigil, since the gate, since the Keepers—he was outside.

And the world was waiting.

Something was wrong.

Noah realized it almost immediately. The grass beneath his feet was untouched. The trees swayed gently, but there were no birds. No insects.

No sounds of life.

It wasn't just quiet.

It was emptiness.

As if this place had been forgotten.

Noah's jaw tightened. He turned, scanning his surroundings. Rolling hills stretched toward the horizon, leading into the thickening forest. A worn dirt path cut through the landscape, leading somewhere.

He had no map. No destination.

But he couldn't stay here.

He forced himself to move, following the path.

Noah walked for what felt like hours. The sun continued to set, casting the land in deepening hues of orange and purple.

Then—

In the distance, he saw rooftops.

A settlement.

It was small—nothing like a grand city, but a village of stone and wood, nestled against the forest's edge. Smoke curled from chimneys. Lights flickered in windows. A wooden watchtower overlooked the path.

People.

Noah exhaled, steadying himself. He needed to be careful. He didn't know where he was. Didn't know if they would recognize him—if they would see the mark of the sigil on him.

He pulled the hood of his tattered cloak higher, concealing as much as he could.

Then, he walked forward.

As he approached the village, he caught sight of the first signs of life.

A farmer pulling a wooden cart, filled with sacks of grain. A woman sweeping the stone steps of a small tavern. A blacksmith hammering metal, the rhythmic clang echoing through the air.

It looked… normal.

Yet, something still felt off.

Noah stepped closer, keeping his movements careful, his presence unobtrusive. He passed a man unloading firewood from a cart. The man barely acknowledged him.

No curious glances. No wary stares.

As if he wasn't even there.

Noah frowned. His instincts flared—something about this place was wrong.

He stepped toward the tavern. The first real structure, the first place to gather information.

He pushed the door open—

And froze.

Inside, people were gathered. Drinking, eating, talking. A fire crackled in the hearth, filling the room with warmth. The scent of roasted meat and ale lingered in the air.

But Noah's focus was on something else.

A map hung on the wall near the bar.

His eyes locked onto it immediately. The land stretched wide, marking villages, rivers, and cities—

But at the bottom corner, near the edge of the continent—

There was a blank space.

Where the ruins had been.

Where he had been.

As if that part of the world did not exist.

A creeping sensation crawled down his spine.

Something had erased it.

Noah barely had time to process it before he felt someone watching him.

His senses flared—not like before, not like the Keepers.

But human.

A figure stood at the bar, half-turned toward him. A young woman with dark auburn hair, eyes the color of dusk. She wore a traveler's cloak, dusted from the road.

And she was watching him too closely.

Not with suspicion.

With recognition.

Noah's stomach twisted.

She knew something.

Before he could move, she spoke.

"You came from the Forgotten Lands, didn't you?"

The words hit Noah like a hammer.

The Forgotten Lands.

The ruins, the sigil, the gate—all of it had been in a place that was erased from memory.

And yet—

She remembered.

Noah's breath slowed, his body tense. He didn't answer immediately. He couldn't afford to.

The woman studied him carefully. She set her drink down, then gestured to the seat across from her.

"Sit."

Noah hesitated. Every instinct told him to be cautious.

But he also knew—

This was his only lead.

He stepped forward, pulled out the chair, and sat down.

The woman watched him for a moment longer, then leaned in slightly, lowering her voice.

"The Keepers will be here soon."

Noah's entire body stiffened.

"If you want to survive," she continued, "you need to listen carefully."

"Because you've been marked for something far worse than death."