The City Remembers

The heavy stone doors groaned open, revealing a passage that pulsed with dim, shifting light. Unlike the chaotic distortions of the outer city, this place felt eerily stable, as if untouched by time's unraveling threads.

Zahra stepped forward with effortless confidence, her golden eyes flicking over the intricate carvings along the walls. "Well, well," she murmured. "Looks like we're finally somewhere worth my time."

Elise scowled. "Everything's worth your time, apparently."

Zahra smirked. "You're catching on."

Idris ignored them, studying the path ahead. The walls shimmered with layered histories—faint echoes of past events playing out like ghostly reflections. Warriors marching, scholars writing, kings and queens standing before a golden throne. The city was remembering itself, rebuilding its past.

And then—

A voice.

"You walk in the halls of the Forgotten."

The group froze.

A figure emerged from the shifting light, their form wrapped in deep, embroidered robes, a mask obscuring their face. Unlike the warriors they had fought earlier, this one wasn't an echo—

They were real.

Zahra's stance shifted slightly, tension coiling beneath her calm exterior. "And you are?"

The figure tilted their head. "A Keeper."

---

The Last of the Keepers

The masked figure stood before them, hands clasped, expression unreadable. "You've disturbed a place meant to remain lost."

Idris stepped forward, choosing his words carefully. "We came seeking answers."

The Keeper regarded him for a long moment. Then, with slow deliberation, they reached up and removed their mask.

The face beneath was young—younger than Idris had expected. Maybe sixteen, maybe younger. Their skin was marked with faint silver lines, scars that pulsed like veins of living metal. Their eyes, a deep violet, held the weight of centuries.

"I am Iska," they said. "The last of the Keepers."

Zahra snorted. "That's dramatic."

Iska's gaze shifted to her. "You're Kha'ren."

"Got a problem with that?" Zahra challenged.

For the first time, something flickered in Iska's expression—recognition. "No," they said quietly. "Just surprise. I thought your people abandoned these ruins long ago."

Zahra's smirk faltered for half a second.

Idris folded his arms. "If you're the last Keeper, then you must know what this place is."

Iska's violet eyes darkened. "This is the heart of the Sa'Khel's final betrayal."

Silence.

Elise shifted uneasily. "Betrayal?"

Iska exhaled, stepping past them toward the walls. With a slow, deliberate motion, they ran their hand over the carvings. The images rippled, changing shape, revealing a new memory.

A council of figures, draped in golden robes. A city crumbling, collapsing into the abyss. A gate, a massive, pulsing monolith—

And a warrior standing before it.

A woman.

Tall, armored, wielding a blade that burned with the weight of time itself.

Zahra's breath caught.

"…No way."

Iska's voice was quiet. "You know her."

Zahra's jaw tightened. "…I know her story."

Idris frowned. "Who is she?"

Iska turned to him. "The one who tried to stop the Sa'Khel before the first war began."

"The first war?" Nyla echoed.

Iska nodded. "The war that split time itself."

---

The Truth of the Sa'Khel

The room darkened, the carvings shifting again—showing flashes of battle, entire cities swallowed by the rift.

"The Sa'Khel were never meant to control time," Iska murmured. "They were meant to protect it."

Elise tensed. "Then what happened?"

Iska's expression hardened. "They got greedy."

The images showed the Sa'Khel's rulers standing before the Monolith, their hands outstretched, weaving the very fabric of reality. At first, their actions seemed measured, careful—adjusting small events, fixing what was broken.

Then, something changed.

A single figure stepped forward, reaching deeper into the Monolith's core. The moment their fingers brushed its surface, the images fractured—

Time itself shattered.

The war began.

Nations fell.

And the warrior—the one Zahra had recognized—stood alone against the tide of destruction.

Zahra's fingers curled into fists.

"…She failed."

Iska's voice was grim. "Of course she did. No one can stand against time."

The image faded.

The room fell into silence.

---

A New War Begins

For a long moment, no one spoke.

Then, Idris turned to Iska. "You called this the 'final betrayal.' Why?"

Iska hesitated. Then, they motioned toward the farthest wall. "Because the war never truly ended."

The group followed their gaze.

There, etched into the stone, was a final prophecy—one written in the language of the Sa'Khel. Even if the war ceased, even if the world forgot—time itself would remember.

The battle would begin again.

And this time—

The victor would rewrite history forever.

Elise inhaled sharply. "That's what the Architects want, isn't it?"

Iska nodded. "They believe they can do what the Sa'Khel couldn't."

Rook clenched his fists. "And if they succeed…?"

Iska's eyes darkened. "Then the world as you know it will cease to exist."

---

The Weight of a Choice

A heavy silence settled over the group.

Then Zahra exhaled, shaking her head. "Well. That's dramatic."

Iska shot her a sharp look. "You don't seem surprised."

Zahra met their gaze, unflinching. "Because this was always going to happen."

Iska frowned. "What do you mean?"

Zahra's smirk returned, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"The Kha'ren have been preparing for this war long before any of you knew it was coming."

Idris blinked. "Wait—what?"

Zahra turned toward him. "You didn't think we were just a bunch of exiles, did you?" She motioned to the prophecy. "We knew this would happen. We knew the Sa'Khel's mistake would come back."

Elise crossed her arms. "And yet you didn't tell anyone?"

Zahra shrugged. "No one listens to those they cast aside."

Iska's jaw tightened. "So you did nothing?"

Zahra's golden eyes flickered.

Then—

A quiet, deadly smile.

"Oh, we did something," she murmured.

The room shifted, the prophecy's light growing brighter—

And for the first time, Idris realized—

The war was already here.