Shadows of the Past

Location: Crimson Wastes – Outer Dune Region

The Crimson Wastes were as unforgiving as legend had claimed—an endless expanse of red sands that shimmered under a molten sky. Even the air tasted like fire. Yet Damien moved through it with measured calm, flanked by his elite team, cloaked in desert-camouflage gear that blended into the terrain.

Behind them, Nora and the ghost team traveled in complete silence, every movement calculated. She had already mapped out three alternate escape routes and scanned for buried energy traps. It wasn't paranoia—it was survival.

As Damien approached the first dune ridge, he stopped abruptly. The sand was scorched in precise, circular patterns. Rune marks.

"She's using soul-weaving magic," Cassandra whispered, scanning them. "Rare. Dangerous. Illegal in every civilized nation."

"Althea never cared for laws," Damien muttered. "Only legacy."

A low-frequency hum pulsed beneath the sand. Xavier dropped to a crouch, his blade drawn. "It's coming from beneath us."

Damien activated his ocular lens. Beneath the surface, a subterranean vault revealed itself—coils of wires fused with ancient bones, all connected to a large orb at the center. Something alive pulsed inside it.

A voice echoed through the comms. "Damien..."

It wasn't Althea. It was... his mother's voice?

He froze.

"Damien, come home... come back…"

It struck like a bolt of grief. His chest tightened as the memories clawed at him—her voice, her warmth, her final words before she died protecting him from the Kane family's wrath.

"She's using a memory parasite," Cassandra warned, touching his shoulder. "Break the loop or you'll be consumed."

Damien inhaled deeply. "I'm not that boy anymore."

His voice shattered the illusion. The runes flickered and burned out, vanishing into ash. The ground trembled, and the buried orb rose from the sand.

From behind it, a figure emerged—hooded, lean, and cloaked in shadows.

"Welcome to the past you buried," the stranger said. "Althea sends her regards."

Damien drew his blade. "She should have come herself."

The figure removed his hood. Damien's heart stopped.

It was Ronan—his half-brother. Long presumed dead.

But his eyes… glowed red.