Chapter 28: The Hand That Reaches Beyond
A Fractured Choice
Jorath's breath hitched.
The Forgotten One's hand remained outstretched—its presence pressing against the very fabric of reality. The air crackled, dense with an unknown power, a force beyond gods, beyond the Abyss, beyond everything they understood.
Behind him, Eryndra whispered. "Jorath, don't."
Her voice trembled—not from fear, but from the weight of something greater. A mage of her caliber could feel it: this was no mere entity offering knowledge. It was an aberration, a thing that should not exist.
Vauron's fingers hovered over his blade. "What happens if he takes its hand?"
The Forgotten One tilted its head slightly, its form shifting, flickering in and out of perception. "Then he steps beyond the veil."
Jorath's throat felt dry. He knew—every instinct screamed at him—that this was a line he could never uncross.
But the thought of not knowing... of remaining blind...
Something in him ached for the truth.
"What lies beyond the veil?" he asked.
The Forgotten One's void-like gaze bored into him.
"Everything they kept from you."
For a moment, the world seemed to still.
The Eternal Dominion watched from their high thrones. The Abyss stirred in unreadable unease. The gods, the void, and the forgotten forces of the world all held their breath.
Waiting.
And then—
"Step away from it, Jorath."
A new voice.
Low. Cold. Familiar.
Jorath turned—his heart stopping for a fraction of a second.
Thalos Arctur.
The golden-eyed warrior stood at the edge of the clearing, the mist parting around him like it feared his presence. His sword rested at his side, but his stance was lethal—coiled with tension, with intent.
Jorath clenched his fists. "Thalos—"
"You don't know what you're doing."
His voice carried no anger, only the sharpness of certainty. Thalos' gaze flickered to the Forgotten One, and for the first time in his life, Jorath saw something he never thought he would:
Hesitation.
Thalos Arctur, the warrior who feared nothing, hesitated.
And that, more than anything, terrified him.
The Forgotten One regarded Thalos curiously. "You have seen beyond the veil before."
Silence.
Eryndra's breath caught. "That's impossible."
Jorath turned to Thalos sharply. "What is it talking about?"
Thalos didn't answer.
Because he couldn't.
---
The Veil of Secrets
Solstice Hold – Chamber of Omens
The gods watched.
The Eternal Dominion, for all their wisdom, did not have answers.
Lysara's fingers dug into the stone of the council table, cracks forming beneath her grip. "If the Forgotten One remembers Thalos, that means…"
Callis Veradin's voice was quiet. "He has seen what we erased."
A silence heavier than any battle fell over them.
For all their might, for all their control, there was one thing even they feared:
A memory that should not exist.
And Thalos Arctur, the sword of the Dominion—had seen it.
---
A Battle of Convictions
Black Hollow Forest – The Threshold
The tension snapped like a bowstring pulled too tight.
Thalos took a step forward, his golden gaze locking onto Jorath. "Do not take its hand."
Jorath's pulse hammered in his skull. "And if I do?"
Thalos' fingers curled around his hilt. "Then I will stop you."
A cold spike of realization ran through him.
He means it.
Jorath's throat tightened. "Why? What do you know that we don't?"
Thalos didn't answer.
Instead, he drew his sword.
"Step away, Jorath."
The Forgotten One did not move, did not interfere. It only watched—its presence like an unseen tide, waiting to see who would be pulled under first.
Vauron hissed. "Oh, for the love of—do you two need to fight about everything?"
Eryndra's eyes darted between them. She could feel it—the inevitability. The weight of history crashing down into a single moment.
And then—
Jorath moved.
In a heartbeat, steel clashed against steel.
The force of Thalos' strike sent a shockwave through the forest, trees groaning under the pressure. Sparks erupted as Jorath barely deflected the attack, his arms numbing from the sheer impact.
Thalos wasn't holding back.
Jorath gritted his teeth. "Damn it, Thalos—!"
Another strike.
Faster. Sharper. Merciless.
Jorath barely dodged in time, the edge of Thalos' sword cutting through the air where his neck had been a fraction of a second ago.
This was different.
This wasn't training.
Thalos was not his ally right now.
Thalos was treating him like an enemy.
Jorath's heart pounded. "You're seriously trying to kill me?"
Thalos didn't answer. But the next attack came anyway.
A brutal, unrelenting onslaught.
Jorath barely parried, his boots skidding against the ground as he struggled to match Thalos' pace. He wasn't weak—but Thalos was stronger.
Too strong.
His golden eyes burned, unreadable, but his strikes were nothing less than absolute.
A single moment of hesitation—
And Jorath found himself pinned, Thalos' sword pressing against his throat.
The forest was silent.
His heart pounded, his breath ragged, his entire body aching from the brutal exchange.
Thalos' expression didn't waver. "Do you yield?"
Jorath gritted his teeth. "Screw you."
Thalos didn't react. But his grip tightened.
Eryndra's voice cut through the air. "Stop this!"
Neither of them moved.
Thalos' next words were barely above a whisper. "You are not ready for the truth."
Jorath's fists clenched.
His pride screamed at him to resist, to fight back, to win.
But something deeper—something instinctual—knew Thalos was right.
He let out a slow, shuddering breath.
"...I yield."
The pressure vanished.
Thalos stepped back, lowering his sword.
The Forgotten One chuckled softly. "Interesting."
For the first time, it withdrew its hand.
Jorath exhaled. "You're letting this go?"
The Forgotten One's void-like eyes gleamed. "For now."
A pulse of energy rippled outward. And then—
It vanished.
Like a breath of air lost to the wind.
The forest returned to silence.
Jorath forced himself to stand. His arms felt like lead.
Thalos didn't meet his gaze.
Jorath exhaled. "One day, you're going to tell me what the hell that thing was."
Thalos' voice was distant. "One day, you will wish you never knew."