A familiar graveyard

The Hollow Gate had sealed behind them, cutting off any retreat. The chamber in which they now stood pulsed with an eerie, rhythmic hum, like the heartbeat of something ancient and unknowable. The twisted remains of a battlefield stretched in all directions, yet it was the shadows that moved that set Caelum on edge.

He could feel something pulling at the edges of his mind, a phantom ache whispering secrets of a past he could not yet grasp. A name. A promise. A betrayal. The fragments teased him, slipping through his consciousness like water through cupped fingers. He gritted his teeth. Not yet. Not here.

Elias stood at his side, his expression unreadable, but his stance tense. The shadows at his feet curled and writhed unnaturally, almost as if they were drawn to him. Selene's radiant energy pulsed around her, golden strands of power weaving across her skin like a divine armor. Aerin's breath was measured, her wind-infused presence crackling with latent force.

And then, the silence broke.

The specters let out a keening wail, a cacophony of suffering and malice as they surged forward, their amorphous forms gliding across the ruined ground. They were fast—unnaturally so—but Caelum moved before he could even think. Instinct guided him, something buried deep within his very bones.

His blade materialized in his grasp, not a physical weapon, but a construct of raw energy—silver and searing, humming with a resonance that made the specters hesitate for the briefest of moments.

Then, battle erupted.

Selene lashed out with her radiant chains, golden light searing through the darkness. The first specter shrieked as her bindings constricted, burning its form as though it were fragile parchment. Aerin blurred forward, the air around her twisting into cutting gusts, each movement a dance of deadly precision. Where she struck, the wind howled like a furious beast, scattering the weaker shadows before her.

Elias stood still in the chaos, his gaze fixed on the darkness ahead. And then, with a mere flick of his wrist, the shadows around him obeyed. They surged forward, coiling like serpents, latching onto the specters with terrifying control. The shadows devoured their own kind, twisting and writhing as if in silent agony.

Caelum had no time to be awed.

A specter lunged at him, its hollow gaze meeting his own. And then—it spoke.

"You do not belong here."

His body reacted before his mind could. His energy blade cleaved through the entity, slicing it apart as though cutting through mist. But the voice lingered, curling around his thoughts like a whisper of truth.

He clenched his jaw. What did it mean? Who was he, truly?

The battle raged on, but something was shifting. The air grew colder, the ground beneath them trembling slightly, as if responding to the destruction of the specters. Elias turned sharply, his eyes narrowing. "Something is coming."

A heavy silence fell over the battlefield, only the fading wisps of destroyed specters remaining. Then, a new presence slithered into existence. A shape coalesced from the darkness—a being unlike the others, more defined, more real. It stepped forward, slow and deliberate. Unlike the formless specters, this one had eyes. Cold, piercing eyes that bore into Caelum as if they recognized him.

"Who are you?" Caelum demanded, his voice steady despite the weight pressing on his mind.

The figure did not answer immediately. It raised a hand, and the shadows quivered in response. Then, in a voice as hollow as the void itself, it spoke.

"You have forgotten. But we have not."

The words sent a chill through him. Forgotten? Forgotten what?

Selene stepped forward, golden energy crackling at her fingertips. "If you have something to say, say it. Otherwise, get out of our way."

The entity tilted its head, regarding her with something almost akin to amusement. "You wield the light, yet you do not understand its origin."

Before anyone could react, the entity moved. Faster than thought, it surged forward, its presence like a crushing weight against their senses. Caelum barely had time to block as a strike came for him—not physical, but something deeper, something that clawed at his very soul.

Pain lanced through him, and then—

A throne room bathed in golden light. Banners bearing his sigil. A voice, once warm, now cold. "You were never meant to survive."

The memory shattered as he stumbled back, his breathing ragged. The entity loomed before him, watching, waiting. Testing.

Elias moved first. The shadows around him coiled like vipers, striking at the figure, but it simply walked through them,untouched. Aerin's wind howled, Selene's light flared—but nothing seemed to faze it.

Caelum's grip tightened on his weapon. This wasn't a battle they could win by brute force.

And then he understood.

It was never meant to be won. It was meant to be remembered.

His heart pounded as the realization settled in. This entity—it was not merely an enemy. It was a piece of the past, a fragment of something he had lost. And if he did not reclaim it, they would never leave this place.

The figure's cold gaze met his once more. "You are not ready."

With those final words, the darkness collapsed inward.

A pulse of force rippled through the air, and the battlefield dissolved. The ruins, the specters, even the Hollow Gate itself—gone.

Caelum gasped as reality stabilized, finding himself standing amidst his companions in a vast, open expanse. The oppressive weight was gone, but the knowledge remained, lingering in his mind like the fading embers of a dying fire.

Elias watched him carefully. "You saw something, didn't you?"

Caelum exhaled slowly, his fists clenched. "Not enough." He lifted his gaze to the horizon, where the next path awaited them. "But I will."

The Hollow Gate had given him a glimpse of the truth. And now, he would tear through the very fabric of fate itself to reclaim what was his.

No matter the cost.

****

The vast expanse stretched before them, an endless field of gray mist and crumbling ruins that twisted into strange, unrecognizable shapes. The air was thick with the scent of something ancient, something lost to time. The echoes of the Hollow Gate still lingered in Caelum's mind, a whispering presence that refused to fade.

Each step forward felt heavier than the last, as if the very ground itself resisted their movement. His fingers twitched involuntarily, the memory of that voice—You have forgotten. But we have not.—lodged deep within him like a splinter.

Elias walked beside him, his expression unreadable. The shadows that had once curled around his feet seemed almost subdued, responding to the stillness of their surroundings. Aerin was tense, her hands resting at her sides, ready to summon a storm at a moment's notice. Selene, her golden energy dimmed, surveyed the area with sharp eyes, as though expecting something to emerge from the void.

They were all waiting—for what, none of them knew.

It was Selene who finally broke the silence. "This place... it feels wrong."

Caelum nodded, but he didn't speak. His thoughts were fragmented, disjointed pieces of something larger trying to piece themselves back together. He had seen something beyond the Hollow Gate, but every time he reached for it, it slipped away, leaving behind only an aching emptiness.

Elias' voice was soft when he finally spoke. "This place isn't just a passage. It's a graveyard."

Aerin frowned. "A graveyard for what?"

Elias gestured to the ruins surrounding them. "Look closely."

They did. And then they saw it—the faded carvings on the broken stone, the shattered remains of once-proud sigils. These were not natural ruins.

Selene exhaled sharply. "These are remnants of the Old Kingdoms."

The weight of her words settled over them like a shroud. The Old Kingdoms—the civilizations that existed before the current era, before the rise of the Legendary Families. Entire empires lost to time, their histories erased, their rulers buried in forgotten graves.

Caelum ran his hand across one of the broken pillars, tracing a symbol that felt strangely familiar. This place is connected to me. He didn't know how, but he felt it in his bones.

Then the mist shifted.

A whisper rode on the cold wind, indistinct yet pressing against their minds with insidious clarity. The ground trembled, and for the first time since stepping into this place, something moved.

Dark figures emerged from the mist, their forms barely distinguishable from the swirling gray. They were not specters like before, nor were they entirely solid. They were something in between—memories given shape.

And they were watching them.

Elias reacted first, his shadows flaring to life around him. "We're not alone."

Aerin took a step back, her eyes narrowing as the wind swirled violently around her. "What are they?"

The figures didn't answer, but one stepped forward, more defined than the rest. It was cloaked in armor, ancient and weathered, bearing an insignia that sent a jolt of recognition through Caelum's mind.

It was the same symbol that haunted his fractured memories.

The figure raised a hand, and the mist curled in response. Then, in a voice as hollow as the void itself, it spoke.

"Eryndor Vaelaris."

The name struck Caelum like a thunderclap. His breath hitched, his entire body tensing. That name... that was—

The memories surged forward, raw and violent.

—A grand hall of obsidian and gold. A throne, his throne. Voices echoing in betrayal. A blade plunging into his back. The last thing he saw before the world faded to black.

Caelum stumbled, his vision blurring. No. Not now. Not here.

Selene's voice pulled him back. "Caelum!"

The figures advanced. Whatever they were—remnants, echoes, guardians of the forgotten past—they were not here for idle conversation.

Elias didn't hesitate. His shadows lashed out like vipers, striking at the figures, but they simply dissolved, reforming just as quickly. Selene summoned golden light, blasting through the mist, only for the figures to move around it as though they were part of the air itself.

"We can't fight them like this," Aerin snapped, frustration lacing her voice.

Caelum forced himself to breathe, his mind reeling. These things—they were tied to his past. To his forgotten legacy. And if they knew him, if they spoke his name, then perhaps...

He reached for them.

Not with his weapon. Not with force. But with his very presence. With the echoes of what had been taken from him.

The mist quivered. The figures hesitated.

The armored one locked eyes with him. And then, slowly, it knelt.

The others followed, lowering themselves in silent reverence. The battlefield stilled.

Caelum's pulse thundered in his ears. "You know who I am." It wasn't a question.

The kneeling figure lifted its head. Its voice was barely more than a whisper, but it resonated through the air, settling deep within his bones.

"You are the Forgotten King."

The words sent a shiver through him, colder than any blade. A title that felt both foreign and familiar, an identity that he had lost but could never truly escape.

And for the first time since stepping into this place, he realized the truth.

This was not just a graveyard.

It was his.