The Blade That Remembers
Vaelor had survived many things. The Wardens of Fate. The Arbiter. The unraveling of time itself.
But the moment the Historian of Velmora struck—he understood something vital.
He was not ready for this fight.
A flash of crimson. A whisper of steel.
The blade was upon him before his mind could fully register it. Not an attack—a decree.
The sword's edge cut through the air, reality bending in its wake. This was not just a weapon; it was a fragment of history itself, an artifact that had defied oblivion. The moment it neared him, Vaelor felt the weight of centuries press against his soul—memories, echoes of battles never fought, futures never written.
The blade did not kill. It remembered.
And it intended to make Vaelor remember as well.
His instincts screamed. He moved, twisting his body just as the strike carved through the space where he had stood. The air rippled, fragments of history flickering in and out of existence. For the briefest of moments, he saw himself—not here, but elsewhere. A thousand lifetimes flashing before his eyes.
The Historian did not hesitate.
She pressed forward, relentless, each step perfectly measured. No wasted motion. No hesitation. She was not simply fighting—she was enforcing.
Vaelor barely managed to block the next strike. The Unshackled Codex burned in his grasp, the ink on its pages shifting wildly.
"Do not resist."
The words were not spoken. They descended upon him, as if reality itself had whispered them into existence.
Do not resist. Accept. Remember.
He gritted his teeth. "No."
A pulse of force erupted from his grasp. The Codex flared with raw energy, its pages turning of their own accord. The shifting ink solidified, forming a single word. A name.
A forgotten command.
Vaelor spoke it.
The world broke.
---
The Shattered Timeline
When Vaelor's vision cleared, he was no longer in Velmora.
The city—the people—the Historian—all gone.
Instead, he stood amidst the remnants of a battlefield, the ground beneath him scorched and broken. The sky churned with fractured constellations, as if the heavens themselves had been torn apart.
And across the ruined landscape, they stood.
Figures clad in ethereal armor. Weapons forged from the echoes of dying stars. Their forms flickered between past and future, warriors bound to the unraveling threads of fate itself.
The Forgotten Legion.
Vaelor knew their name before his mind could process it.
They had fought against the Divine Council before history had been rewritten. Their rebellion had been purged, their existence stricken from time itself. But now—
They had returned.
Because of him.
"He has come."
The voice resonated through the battlefield, carried not by sound, but by the weight of a past that should not exist.
A figure stepped forward. Unlike the shifting warriors around them, this one was solid—grounded. Their armor was adorned with sigils that flickered between recognition and obscurity, as if they existed between remembrance and erasure.
Vaelor recognized them instantly.
Not from books. Not from the Codex.
From the echoes that had haunted his dreams ever since he had stolen the Codex.
"Vaelor," the warrior said, their voice carrying the gravity of forgotten history. "You have undone the first decree. You have awakened what was lost."
He swallowed. "Who are you?"
The warrior's gaze locked onto his.
"We are the ones who refused to forget."
---
The Price of Remembrance
The weight of their words settled over Vaelor like a storm. He had broken the first seal. He had unraveled the threads that the Divine Council had woven into fate itself.
And in doing so—he had freed those who were never meant to return.
The Forgotten Legion had been erased, not just from history, but from memory itself. Their war against the Divine Council had been more than a battle—it had been a defiance of the laws that governed existence.
And now, they stood before him.
Waiting.
"You are the catalyst," the warrior continued. "The one who set the past free. But history does not return without consequence."
Vaelor exhaled, forcing his mind to steady. "Then tell me. What happens now?"
A silence stretched between them. The warriors of the Forgotten Legion stood unmoving, their forms flickering between presence and absence.
Then, the leader spoke:
"The Second Seal was not merely a lock—it was a threshold."
Vaelor's heart pounded.
"And now, the ones who bound us will come to bind you as well."
A shadow passed over the battlefield.
Not one of darkness—but of divine decree.
Vaelor turned his gaze skyward—
And saw them.
Descending from the torn heavens, emerging from the fractures in reality, came the forces of the Divine Council. Not the Wardens. Not the Arbiter.
These were the Sentinels of Dominion.
The enforcers of absolute fate.
Their forms were woven from celestial law, their armor forged from the first words ever inscribed upon the fabric of reality. Their weapons were not mere blades—they were mandates, commands given shape.
They did not come to fight.
They came to erase.
"The Second Seal has fallen," one of them intoned. "The decree of Oblivion must be enforced."
Vaelor felt the air tighten around him. The very concept of his existence was being rewritten, unmade at its core.
The Forgotten Legion did not hesitate.
"Hold the line."
Blades of shattered history met weapons of divine authority. Time fractured, the battlefield dissolving into echoes of past and future.
Vaelor clenched his fists, the Unshackled Codex pulsing in his grasp.
If he was the catalyst—if he had freed the past—
Then he would not allow it to be erased again.
With a breath, he reached into the Codex.
And he wrote.
Authors note:
Guys if read this far you might have found some mistakes or plot holes that I didn't consider. Just go with the story for now. In the future I promise I will fix it all with my free time or hiring someone to help me with it.
And lastly if you guys think if this novel should continue just comment continue in any of this chapters or comment. I will try my best .
Thank you.
-ErasedBieng