The map didn't show this place.
Even Myn, who could read the stars like pages, frowned at her compass. "It's turning in circles."
The land beneath them was dry, cracked, and gray. No trees. No birds. Just wind. The kind that sounded like it used to be a scream.
Varn walked ahead like he didn't notice the silence.
Solin stayed close to Elira, her hums soft, unsure. Even the songs were thinner here.
"What is this place?" Kesh asked.
Niro answered, "It's where memories go when they're too heavy to carry."
Elira looked around. "You mean like—forgotten?"
"No," he said. "Buried."
That's when they saw it.
A mask.
It lay on a stone, shaped like a face with no eyes or mouth. Just two long slits where tears might fall.
Myn whispered, "The Mourner."
Solin gasped. "It's still warm."
The ground shook.
A figure rose from the dust.
Tall. Wrapped in gray. A cloak like fog. And the mask—that mask—now on their face.
They didn't speak. But the air around them grew cold, like grief.
Elira stepped forward. "Are you one of the flames?"
Silence.
"I'm Elira. We're trying to bring the Circle back. The world needs you."
The figure moved—not toward her, but in a circle around them. Slow. Watching.
Solin shivered. "She's crying."
"But there are no tears," Kesh said.
"She doesn't need them," Myn said. "Her whole soul is tears."
Elira turned back to the Mourner. "Please. We're not here to hurt you."
Finally, the figure spoke.
Her voice was soft.
Like dust.
"Everyone hurts me."
She held out her hand.
A mirror appeared in the air, floating.
It showed Elira's face.
But twisted. Lost. Afraid. Crying.
"No," Elira said. "That's not me."
"It was."
Another mirror.
This time, Varn. Alone in the snow, screaming without sound.
Then Solin. Singing to a grave.
Then Kesh. Holding someone's hand, then letting go.
Mirror after mirror.
Memories of pain.
"I carry what others throw away," the Mourner said. "And I can't let them go."
Elira stepped close. "Then let me help."
The Mourner turned.
"Why?"
"Because someone once told me I wasn't alone. And they were right. You aren't either."
The mask trembled.
Then cracked.
A line down the middle.
The Mourner reached up.
And lifted it off.
Underneath was not a monster.
Not a creature.
A girl.
No older than Elira.
Eyes swollen from years of crying. But they blinked now. Slowly. Hopefully.
"I remember you," she said. "You were in my dreams."
Elira nodded. "We've been dreaming of each other."
The Mourner dropped the mask. It broke into dust.
"My name is Isen," she said.
Kesh stepped forward. "Well, Isen, we're on a quest, and you're totally invited."
She gave a small, sad smile.
"I don't know how to fight," she whispered.
"You don't have to," Elira said. "You carry what we can't. That's brave enough."
Niro lit the lantern again.
The flame inside burned blue.
Mourning light.
Five flames now.
Only two left.
But as they turned to leave, Isen froze.
"They're coming," she said.
"Who?" Elira asked.
"The End."
And far
behind them, a shadow moved where no shadow should be.