The shrine nestled in the valley was not marked on any map. Even the oldest records in the Mindkeepers' vaults spoke of it only in riddles—"a place between pulses," "a door within the self," "a memory built before time was written."
Vel stood at the edge of the path, arms folded, the wind tugging gently at her cloak. "It's older than either of us," she said, "but I feel it calling."
Ael nodded.
He felt it too—not with magic, not with reason, but with something deeper. A sense that the land beneath their feet knew their names before they were ever born.
Together, they stepped forward.
—
The shrine was simple in structure: four standing stones shaped like leaning blades, each carved with runes no longer used in any known tongue. At the center was a low altar made of obsidian, worn smooth not by time, but by touch—as if countless souls had pressed their hands to it in prayer or desperation.
No wards. No traps. No illusions.
But the moment they crossed the stone ring, the air shifted.
It wasn't magic. It was memory.
Vel froze, her breath catching.
Ael stiffened beside her.
Because suddenly, they were no longer alone.
The world didn't vanish, but blurred, like oil spreading across still water. And in its place came a vision—vivid, intrusive, and all-consuming.
Two figures stood within the shrine. A man and a woman, cloaked in pale silver robes. Their faces were familiar.
Too familiar.
Ael stepped forward. "That's us."
But not them now.
Them—before.
In a life long forgotten.
—
The woman, a priestess, spoke softly.
"If I sever it, I will lose all feeling."
The man, a king cloaked in armor, nodded solemnly.
"And if I keep it, I will never rule without weakness."
"Then we divide it."
"Split the thread," the man agreed. "One to carry power. One to carry love."
The two figures extended their hands, palms over the obsidian altar.
A thread of golden light shimmered between them, pulsing like a living thing. Slowly, solemnly, they spoke in unison:
"We are one soul, two paths.Let the world forget what we cannot carry.Let the shrine remember what we must hide."
With that, the thread snapped.
Half recoiled into the king's chest.
Half into the priestess's.
And then, the vision faded.
—
Ael staggered back, hand to his heart.
Vel fell to her knees, gasping.
It wasn't pain.
It was the crushing weight of remembrance.
The moment their soul had split.
The moment their bond—the Elar Thread—was torn and hidden in this very place.
Nirra stepped forward cautiously from the path behind them, having followed when they didn't return. "That was… your past life?"
Ael nodded, breath shallow. "The reason I couldn't feel. The reason Vel carried what I lacked."
Vel clenched her fists. "We did this to ourselves."
"To survive," Ael said. "To protect the world."
Nirra glanced at the altar. "But why did the shrine show it to you now?"
Vel stood slowly, her voice distant. "Because the thread has begun to reconnect. And the shrine was meant to reawaken once we were whole again."
Ael stepped forward and placed his hand on the altar.
A rune lit beneath his palm.
"One soul, two paths.When they walk together again, the third shall awaken."
"The third…" Ael murmured.
Nirra looked sharply between them. "The third what?"
Vel stared into the sky.
"The third soul."
Ael's breath caught.
They had always believed the Elar Thread bound two people.
But now, the truth began to unfold—
Their severed bond had created not just absence, but a third presence.
Something formed in the gap.
A being not born of birth or soul, but of sacrifice.
And that being… was the one whispering silence into the world now.
"It isn't just a force," Vel said, voice shaking. "It's us."
"Our shadow," Ael added grimly.
"The part we abandoned to become rulers, to survive war. It gained shape… and now it wants to finish what we started."
"To erase love."
"To erase feeling."
"To erase us."
—
The air thickened. The shrine groaned beneath their feet.
Then a voice—cold, clear, and utterly familiar—rang out from the trees.
"You should have let it stay buried."
They turned.
A figure emerged from the shadows—neither cloaked nor armed. A young man with eyes like silver flame and a presence that mirrored both Ael and Vel in equal measure.
He smiled without warmth.
"I am what was left behind."