Whispers of the Forgotten

Kael Draven stood before the ruins of Veldrath, the wind carrying echoes of a past he could not fully grasp. His mind was still reeling from his encounter with the timeworn inscriptions hidden beneath Eldoria. Every step forward felt like walking deeper into a maze of forgotten truths.

The symbols carved into the ancient stones pulsed with a strange energy, as if trying to communicate with him. He reached out, tracing the markings with his fingertips. A sudden flash of light erupted, blinding him for a moment. When his vision cleared, he found himself standing in a different time—Veldrath as it once was, before it became ruins.

The village was alive. People moved about, their faces familiar, yet distant. Kael’s chest tightened as he saw a younger version of himself—laughing, unburdened by the weight of loss. His hands trembled as he took a step forward, but the illusion shattered like broken glass.

A voice echoed through the empty ruins. "You are not ready."

Kael spun around, his hand gripping the hilt of his blade. A cloaked figure stood at the edge of the ruins, their presence as eerie as the whispers in the wind.

"Who are you?" Kael demanded.

The figure tilted their head, the hood casting a shadow over their face. "A keeper of forgotten things," they replied. "You seek the truth, but truth is a burden heavier than any sword."

Kael's patience thinned. "I need answers. Why do I remember things I shouldn’t? Why do I feel like I don’t belong in this time?"

The figure stepped closer, the air around them warping like a mirage. "Because you don’t," they said. "You are a remnant of something lost. A soul pulled from the past, given a second chance. But second chances come at a price."

Kael’s pulse quickened. The pieces were falling into place, but the picture they formed was one of tragedy. "Then tell me," he said, his voice cold, "what am I?"

The figure hesitated before speaking. "You are a mistake."

The words hit like a blade to the gut. Kael’s grip on his sword tightened, but before he could react, the world around him began to unravel. The ruins blurred, the whispers turning into a deafening roar.

Then, silence.

Kael found himself back in the present, kneeling in the dirt. His breaths came in ragged gasps. The ruins of Veldrath were just that—ruins. The vision, the figure, all of it was gone. But the truth remained, carved into his mind like the ancient symbols beneath his fingertips.

He was never meant to exist.

And someone, somewhere, wanted to correct that mistake.

Kael stood slowly, brushing dust from his cloak. The weight of the revelation pressed heavily on his chest, but he couldn’t let it break him. He had come too far, suffered too much to stop now.

A rustling noise made him turn sharply. From behind a broken pillar, a figure emerged. Unlike the spectral presence from his vision, this one was real. A man, his face partially hidden beneath a hood, stepped forward cautiously.

"You felt it too, didn't you?" the stranger asked.

Kael narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"

The man hesitated before speaking. "My name is Lucien. And if you want answers, you need to come with me. Time is running out."

Kael studied him, weighing his options. He had no reason to trust Lucien, but something in his voice carried urgency. More than that, it carried familiarity.

"Fine," Kael said, sheathing his sword. "But if you're lying, you won’t live to regret it."

Lucien smirked. "Fair enough. Now, let’s move before they find us."

Kael clenched his fists. He didn’t know who ‘they’ were, but he had a feeling he was about to find out.

End of Chapter 9

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