Chapter 6.The Shape Of Memory.

Chapter 6:

The Shape of Memory

Errin walked back through the valley, but the world felt different now—thicker, as if the air itself carried the weight of something unseen. The scent of damp earth clung to his skin, the whispering of the leaves seemed to echo in his bones.

The villagers went about their lives as they always had. Children ran through the fields, their laughter ringing out in the crisp morning light. Farmers bent over the soil, hands steady and patient. And yet, something had shifted in Errin's mind.

He had come to the valley as an outsider, believing himself untethered, free to leave whenever he chose. But now, the past pressed against him like the valley's own embrace, and for the first time, he questioned whether he had ever been just a traveler.

That night, as he lay in the small hut he had been given, sleep eluded him. His dreams no longer felt like dreams. Each time he closed his eyes, fragments of something deeper surfaced—glimpses of hands reaching through time, voices calling his name in a tongue he didn't recognize.

He woke before dawn, heart pounding.

The old storyteller's words haunted him. Not everything that is forgotten is lost.

Rising, he stepped outside, drawn by a force he couldn't name. The valley stretched before him in its quiet vastness, the night sky still heavy with stars. He followed the riverbank, his footsteps silent on the dew-kissed grass.

Before he realized where he was going, he stood once more before the pale tree.

This time, he did not hesitate.

His fingers traced the bark, and the world shifted.

Darkness swallowed him.

Then—light.

He stood in a place both familiar and foreign. A courtyard of smooth stone stretched before him, lined with towering columns. Statues of figures with serene faces loomed above, their carved gazes unreadable. A great flame burned at the center of the space, casting long shadows.

Errin turned.

A figure stood there—a man dressed in deep blue robes, his face lined with wisdom, his eyes piercing.

"You have returned," the man said, his voice carrying the weight of ages.

Errin's breath caught. He knew this man. He knew this place.

But how?

The man stepped closer. "Do you remember your name?"

Errin opened his mouth—but no sound came.

And just as suddenly as it had come, the vision shattered.

He was back in the valley, the cold bark of the tree beneath his fingers. His breath came fast and uneven. His hands trembled.

What had he just seen?

More importantly—what had he forgotten?