The Gathering of the Dead Names

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Beneath every victory lies a graveyard of truths buried too deep to mourn.

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The morning after the Battle of Velmire arrived with no birdsong—only the soft hiss of smoke curling upward from charred stone. The once-bustling city square was now a quiet grave of ash and memory. Fires had been quelled. The enemy had been driven off. And yet, something colder remained.

Aedric Valtoris stood alone amidst the ruins of the temple steps, his shadow cast long by the early sun. Blood dried along his tunic, though none of it was his own. His sword lay planted in the earth beside him, and the glyphs on his arms no longer burned—they pulsed, low and steady, as though whispering.

> "You held back," came Lyara's voice behind him. "Against Caelen. Again."

Aedric didn't look back. "He's still my brother. Even if the world forgets, I won't."

> "He'll be back. Next time, he may not hesitate."

> "Neither will I."

The pause that followed was heavy—more than words, it was filled with the weight of futures neither of them wanted to admit.

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Elsewhere – The Northern Reach

In the frozen monastery of Dareth Maal, an ancient gathering stirred.

Thirteen figures, cloaked in shimmering silence, stood encircled around a basin of black water. Each bore a fragment of an old Name—names long forgotten by the world, names banned by the gods.

The Gathering of the Dead Names.

> "He awakened Tharynox," one rasped. "And survived."

> "Not just survived," another hissed. "He shaped it."

> "The flame obeyed. Velmire burned—and he did not."

The basin rippled, revealing the image of Aedric amid the wreckage of the city.

> "He bears more than one Name now. The lineage is no longer fractured."

> "Then the Prophecy of Ruin may yet unfold."

Silence descended. Then the eldest among them—the Hollow Priest—spoke.

> "Send the Seeker. If Valtoris has gathered more than one True Name… he must be judged. Either he walks the path of Sovereigns—or he is buried with the rest of the fallen."

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Velmire – The Undercroft

Aedric followed the wounded cleric Myrin through the underground of the old temple, deeper than even the fire had reached. The walls here were etched in runes long worn smooth—first tongue symbols that pulsed faintly as he passed.

> "There's something you need to see," Myrin wheezed, leaning on a staff. "Something… you were meant to find."

They reached a stone dais, over which hung a single crystalline relic—glowing faintly with inner light. Suspended above it in chains of old mana was a relic-bound tome.

Aedric stepped forward.

The glyphs on his arms blazed.

The relic responded.

The tome opened.

And a voice not his own—yet buried in his soul—echoed through the chamber.

> "You who carry the Names... you who walk between gods and graves... your purpose was never vengeance. It was remembrance."

Aedric's breath caught. Pages turned on their own.

They showed a vision.

A city beyond the mountains. A sword plunged into a throne. A man with golden eyes shattering a god's crown. And behind him—figures cloaked in memory, bearing Names long silenced.

Then a phrase etched itself onto the last page, burning into Aedric's mind.

"Gather the Nine. Break the chain. Become what the First Flame feared."

> "What is this?" Aedric whispered.

Myrin's voice trembled. "The Chronicle of Sovereigns. Forbidden since the Sundering. It speaks of what you must become, Aedric."

> "And what's that?"

> "A Namebearer with all Nine True Names. The last Sovereign of Ithrael."

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Outside the Temple – The People Gather

Velmire's people emerged slowly from their shelters. Farmers, merchants, orphaned children—all watched as Aedric rose from the depths of the temple with the relic-bound tome clutched in one hand.

They didn't bow. They didn't chant.

But one by one, they knelt.

Not in worship.

In recognition.

He wasn't their savior.

He was their shield.

And as the winds blew ash over the city once more, Aedric Valtoris stood atop the broken world and spoke—not to gods, not to kings, but to the dead whose names he now carried.

> "I'll gather the Nine. And when I do… the world will remember who broke it. And who dared to put it back together."

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Far Away – Caelen Watches the Sky

From a cliff far beyond the smoking ruins, Caelen looked toward Velmire. His hands trembled—not from cold, but from knowing.

He had seen the Names gather before.

But never in one man.

> "Forgive me, brother," he murmured, eyes misted. "I think… I may not be able to stop you."

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