CHAPTER FOUR:Echoes Of The First War

Elianah

The stairs spiraled downward through a space that defied reason.

It wasn't night, but starlight lit their path.

It wasn't quiet, but the silence spoke louder than thunder.

Each step stirred memory — not in thoughts, but in bones.

Elianah's hand tightened around Kael's.

She saw flashes.

Her eyes.

A crown.

A battlefield drowned in feathers and fire.

Then —

A voice.

> "You swore to protect the flame, Alarienne. Even if it meant your death."

She stumbled slightly. "Did you hear that?"

Kael looked at her. "The voice?"

She nodded.

"I did," he said. "Mine said something different. It called me Vaeron, Keeper of the Threshold."

Thorne grunted behind them. "That means it's starting. You're waking up."

Below the Gate

The stairs ended in a vast underground hall.

Not carved — grown.

Massive roots twisted through the walls, glowing faintly with soul-light. Ancient murals spread across the stone — battles, beasts, winged figures locked in eternal war.

Elianah stepped closer to one of the murals, brushing the dust off with her sleeve.

There she was.

Not this version of her, but the other her — Alarienne — in armor that shimmered like night-silk, her eyes blazing as she fought beside Vaeron and Thorell Vek.

But what chilled her…

Was the fourth figure.

Hidden in shadow.

No face.

Only eyes — white, empty, inhuman.

Kael

Kael stepped forward, staring at the shadowed figure.

"I've seen him," he said quietly. "In my dreams. And in my deaths."

"The Shadow King," Thorne said grimly. "He was once one of us."

Elianah turned sharply. "What?"

Thorne nodded. "He was called Asaniel, once. The fourth Guardian. But he broke the Oath. Betrayed the Flame."

Kael's voice was rough. "He loved her."

They both looked at him.

Elianah's breath caught. "Loved who?"

Kael turned to her — his voice low, almost apologetic.

"You."

A thick silence fell.

Then, before anyone could speak again, the ground trembled.

A crack split the floor.

From it rose a pedestal of white stone, and atop it — a relic.

A sword of flame and frost, whispering with energy.

Elianah stepped forward instinctively.

But the sword flared — rejecting her.

Thorne raised a brow. "It's not meant for you."

Kael stepped closer.

And the sword stilled.

"I remember this," he whispered.

He reached out.

The moment his fingers closed around the hilt, his eyes flashed gold.

And in his voice echoed another — Vaeron's voice, ancient and calm:

> "The war never ended. It only slept."