Rise_Tales

When the world forgets your name, will your soul still rise?

In a land ruled by ancient clans and mysterious forces, young Kael Veynir is known for nothing more than his jokes and reckless attitude. But behind his laughter hides a spark — one that fate refuses to ignore.

As shadows stir across the land and whispers of forgotten legends return, Kael finds himself drawn into a journey far beyond anything he imagined. Along the way, he’ll face impossible trials, encounter powerful allies and enemies, and uncover secrets that could rewrite everything.

Soulrise is an epic tale of growth, mystery, and destiny — blending emotional depth, powerful battles, and a world where every soul has a story.

Soulrise

The journey beyond the Memoryroot was no longer quiet. The forest, once ancient and watchful, now whispered.

Not in words—but in memories not their own.

Kael walked faster, eyes darting to the sides. The trees seemed to lean in closer. He clutched his coat tighter as if it could protect him from the chill that wasn't physical.

"Seris," he muttered, "the forest's... whispering."

She didn't slow down. "It always does—after the Root opens your mind."

Deyric grunted. "Ignore it. It feeds on emotion. Fear makes it hungry."

Kael swallowed hard and kept moving, but the whispers grew clearer. Like voices just behind him.

He spun around. Nothing. Just trees and shadows.

"You okay?" Seris asked without looking back.

By nightfall, they reached a clearing where the trees thinned, and strange stone pillars rose like broken teeth from the earth.

"This is the Farscar Shrine," Deyric explained. "We rest here tonight. Nothing dares hunt this place."

Kael raised an eyebrow. "Because it's safe?"

"Because it's cursed," Seris said flatly.

They built a small fire using embergrass from Deyric's satchel, flames burning with a faint blue hue. Kael sat beside the flame, staring into it, unable to shake the images from the Memoryroot.

Seris finally spoke. "Tell me what you saw."

Kael hesitated. "There was… a mark. I was just a kid. Surrounded by people. I think they forced it onto me. Then a battlefield. I was older. I think… I killed people."

Silence. Even Deyric didn't scoff.

"And then a man… silver eyes. He smiled like he knew everything."

"No one should," she replied. "He doesn't exist. Not anymore."

Kael leaned forward. "Why does everyone say that? How can someone just not exist?"

Deyric shifted. "Because the gods made it so. He was erased—not just killed. Removed. From memory, from record. From time."

Kael looked at his mark. "Then why do I remember?"

Seris's eyes flickered to the symbol glowing faintly on his collarbone. "Because you weren't supposed to be born. The mark was meant for him."

He stood at the edge of a ruined city. Fire stretched across the skyline. People screamed. And there—on a tower of black glass—stood Ezerus, arms wide.

"You'll become me," he said softly.

Kael raised a blade he'd never held before, heavy and pulsing with energy. "Never."

Ezerus smiled. "You already have."

"Bad dream?" Deyric asked, already sharpening a dagger.

Seris handed him water. "We leave at first light."

"To meet someone who knows more about your mark. A lorekeeper."

Kael looked at them both. "And if he doesn't help?"

Seris stared at him, dead serious. "Then we're already dead, Kael. We just don't know it yet."

Chapter 8: Shadows That Whisper