The moment they crossed the threshold of the Gate of the Forgotten Realms, everything changed.
Elira, Maelrik, Idrien, and Valeth emerged not into chaos—but into stillness so deep it echoed in their bones. The sky above was fractured crystal, like a broken mirror forever suspended in twilight. The ground shimmered between solid earth and woven memory. Trees whispered names in languages not spoken for millennia.
A realm abandoned by gods... but not by time.
"This isn't just another realm," Idrien murmured, fingers trembling slightly. "It's a memory that became a world."
Valeth hovered above, wings folded tightly, watching.
Elira's eyes narrowed. Her instincts screamed that they were being watched.
They were.
A figure appeared before them, draped in a robe of mourning stars. No footsteps. No shadow. Its face was veiled, but its voice… its voice was the sound of everything ending.
> "You do not belong here."
Elira stepped forward. "I am Elira Valeris, Flameborn Queen, bearer of the Crown of Starlit Flame. We come seeking truth—and justice."
The Voice tilted its head.
> "And yet you bring fire to a land that once burned. You bring justice to a world that remembers only betrayal. Why should I let you pass?"
Maelrik drew his sword. "Because we've earned it."
The Voice laughed. The sound bent reality—flowers bloomed and died in seconds; the sky cracked and healed.
> "So be it."
Suddenly, they were pulled into visions—each of them caught in an echo of a different world.
Elira stood alone in the ruins of Arvenhall—burning, broken, lifeless. She reached for Maelrik, but he was dust. Her own crown melted on her head, burning her skin. "This is what will be," a voice told her, "if you fail."
Maelrik was chained in a cell of mirrors, forced to watch every version of himself betray Elira—stab her, abandon her, sell her soul. "This is what you fear," the voice whispered. "That you are unworthy of her."
Idrien walked a field of corpses, all bearing his face—each one a different choice he didn't make. "You think you were chosen. But perhaps... you were just the last one left."
Each snapped out of their vision gasping.
The Voice now stood between them and a colossal gate shaped like a dying star. Beyond it—power. Secrets. The truth of everything.
> "If you still wish to enter," the Voice said, "you must leave behind what anchors you."
Elira stood tall. "We can't. Because love, memory, pain—they are our anchor. But also our power."
> "Then pass."
The gate opened.
Inside, ancient truths waited—about the gods, the Sundering, and the real enemy: a being older than magic itself, imprisoned beyond all realms.
Elira looked to her companions. "The final war is coming. But this time... we choose the battlefield."
The Voice of the End stepped aside.
> "Then awaken the Titans. Awaken what was buried. But beware... even your flame may not be enough."