PHASE I
Since his eye regained its power,Kalidor no longer saw the castle as it once was.
The stones now breathed.Ancient inscriptions shifted.And the shadows... whispered.
They no longer lingered as mere echoes.They spoke.In a language not spoken, but surrendered.
And the curse—It became a blessing.
He saw every memory hidden in the stone,Every spell inked in blood,Every betrayal etched in the columns.
For the first time in centuries—The castle welcomed him.
But not as a king.
As a stranger who knew too much.
Then came the message...
In a corridor he had never seen before,A wall glowed red with a single phrase:
"You have seen. Now you must believe.""And belief will cost more than the eye..."
He opened the door behind the wall.
And entered—A circular room.No walls.Just floating black curtains.
At the center: a giant mirror, veiled in dark cloth.And on the floor: a small box.Upon it, a note:
"Unlike the others… this part of you won't return on its own."
PHASE II
Kalidor did not approach the mirror directly.He stood in the shadows of the black curtains that fluttered without wind—Slowly circling the room.
Behind each curtain,a sound was hidden.
A whisper…A confession…A memory…
He paused at each.Listening.Remembering.
Then he approached the box.
And opened it—
PHASE III
In the heart of the mirror hall, where fractured surfaces distorted reflections,Kalidor stood before a black mirror.
Its surface wept dark tears.He stared into it, and it whispered back his shape:A skeletal figure,Eyes of obsidian crystal.
He asked:
"Who am I?"
No answer came—But behind the mirror, something stirred.
A long sword slid out from the shadows,Its blade forged from old blood,Its hilt made of human bone.
He grasped it.
And in that moment, he felt a force pulse through his lifeless veins.A new phantom appeared in the corner of the room.
Kalidor lifted the sword.And struck.
The ghost split in half.Its energy absorbed by the blade.
The sword pulsed red.
A voice echoed:
"You believe you've won…But you're only playing a role written a thousand years ago."
And deep within his chest,The crystal throbbed.
Phase IV
He awoke in the same white room.The old skeletal form had shifted into dust.The stone throne now stood empty.But now…He felt everything within him align.
The eye,The heart,The hand,The tongue,The lung,And now… the spine.
His body wasn't yet whole—But now…It could carry the true body when it returns.
Then, from the walls, he heard the looming voice:
"The body will come…But the identity still denies you."
Phase V
When he stepped outside,The first thing he saw wasn't light.But the wind,And then… the graves.
Long rows, some engraved, others shattered, some unnamed—Soldiers, followers, children of the last vampire war.They were all buried here—Right before the castle gates,As if they had kept watch even after death.
He knelt before one of them,Silently reading the name.
He couldn't immediately remember it,But something in the newly awakened heart stirred.
He wept.
Then from nowhere, a voice whispered:
"Silence becomes fatal… when you lose your voice."
He stood,And looked to the horizon—The world had changed.Even the sky no longer looked the same.
But something inside him began to move—Toward retrieving what remained…Toward the outside.