The air in the citadel was thick with something not said, an unsaid word hanging in the air. It stirred in his bones, a restless stirring of the stones beneath his feet, that a storm would soon happen. He walked in slow fashion down the meandering hallways, his footsteps echoing loudly in the silence as though the very citadel held its breath. The banners that once proudly fluttered in the wind now hung limp against cold stone walls, a symbol of peace they had fought so hard to secure.
Yet, Cedric knew better than anyone that peace was always fragile. No victory, however hard-won, came without its price. And the cost of this one, the great battle that had torn the kingdom asunder, was more than any could truly comprehend. It wasn't just the land that had been scarred. The very fabric of their world had been ripped apart, and now the threads of history themselves seemed to pulse with an unease that was hard to ignore.
His thoughts were dark, and the ghosts of past battles, of comrades lost, seemed to whisper just beyond his reach. But there was something else, more insistent. The forgotten stories, those fractured pieces of history that once shaped their world, were no longer dormant. They were waking, slipping out of the shadows they had been forced into, and Cedric could feel their pull. They were calling to him, and he couldn't ignore them.
As he passed by the great hall, a tapestry caught his eye. Unlike all the others-those that depicted the kingdom's victories, its heroes, its legends-this one was different. The colors had faded with time, the image almost indistinct. But there was something about it that made Cedric stop. It wasn't just the design of the battle scene or the intricate threads woven into the fabric. Energy had buzzed through it, and the hum almost felt physical-it was enough to raise the hair on the back of his neck.
He reached out slowly and hesitantly, fingers brushing against the tapestry's surface.
In one instant, his world tilted.
A tide of memories swept over him: visions of battles fought long before his time, the clash of swords and the screams of the fallen. He saw the faces of warriors he had never met, their eyes filled with determination and sorrow. He saw the burning fires, the falling kingdoms, and the breaking of alliances. The past-the very history of his people-unraveled before him, and the stories that had been long forgotten began to resurface.
He saw faces lost to time, heroes whose names were no longer spoken, whose sacrifices had been erased from the world's collective memory. And through them all, a single figure stepped forward from the darkness.
Leona.
Her image was clear: her face lit by the faint light of a dying sun, standing in the middle of a battlefield with a sword in her hand, her expression fierce yet serene. She was fighting, yes, but there was something in her gaze that spoke of acceptance, of a knowing.
Cedric's heart knotted. Leona's sacrifice, which had preserved the balance of the worlds, which had bound her fate in the heart of the kingdom, was a memory that still lingered in his heart from the final battle on. She had given it all for this world, for him, and she was gone.
Yet even the darkness of the past carried her presence.
It's not over, Cedric. The voice, soft and familiar, like the whisper of wind through the trees, reached him, though he had no idea how. It was Leona's voice, but it felt different now, distant and layered with something ancient. The past will never stay forgotten.
He yanked his hand off the tapestry, his chest heaving as if he had just surfaced from deep water. His breath came in short gasps, his heart pounding in his ears. The air around him seemed charged, thick with energy pulsating like the beating of some ancient heart.
The tapestry swayed lightly, its threads shifting as if the image had a life of its own. He stood there, his mind racing, his pulse quickening. The world had already been saved, the kingdoms rebuilt, but now he realized there were more pieces to the puzzle that had yet to fall into place. The past had not been settled, not truly. The stories that had been lost in the aftermath of the shadow's rule-they were unfinished, fragmented, and they were calling out to be completed.
A cold shiver ran down his spine.
Something was wrong in the kingdom: something subtle-a shift, an undercurrent of something dark and familiar. It was a feeling he'd had for weeks now, though he had written it off until then as the aftermath of war. The land was healing, its magic slowly restoring itself, but the sense of unease lingered like a storm cloud on the horizon.
And now he knew the storm was not just coming, but had arrived.
He turned sharply, his footsteps echoing down the empty hallway, and headed toward the council chambers. He needed answers-answers he didn't even fully understand himself. The tapestry, the memories, the whispers of the past-they were more than mere fragments; they were a warning.
He found Vivienne standing by the large oak table, her hands resting on a map of the kingdom. She looked up as Cedric entered, her brow furrowing at the expression on his face.
"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice calm but laced with concern.
Cedric ran a hand through his hair, pacing as he spoke. "The tapestry. The one in the hall. It… it showed me something. Visions of battles long forgotten. Faces I've never seen. And Leona."
Vivienne's expression softened at the mention of Leona, but she didn't interrupt. She knew how deep Cedric's grief ran.
"She spoke to me," Cedric continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. "She said, 'The past will never stay forgotten.' There's something more—something that's been hidden, and it's coming for us."
Vivienne's gaze hardened, her lips pressing into a thin line. "The past… can it be the shadow's remnants?"
Cedric shook his head. "No. It's something different. Something older. The threads of history—of the world itself—they're coming undone. And if we don't find a way to stop it, we could lose everything we've rebuilt."
Vivienne nodded, her eyes narrowing in thought. "We'll need to find out more. We can't just ignore this, Cedric. The kingdom is fragile. One wrong move could tear it all apart."
They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of their shared responsibility settling over them. Cedric knew that Vivienne was right. The past had a way of reasserting itself, no matter how much they tried to bury it. And as much as they had won, as much as they had fought to restore peace, they could never forget the forces that had once torn the kingdom apart. They would have to face those forces again before they could take their rightful place in the world.
"Let's gather the rest," he said, and a determined look settled in his chest. "We need to sort out what's going on here and how to stop it.
With each step away from the council chambers, the air seemed to grow colder, as though unseen eyes watched and waited. The forgotten stories tugged at Cedric, history weighing in. And with a sudden certainty that sliced through him like a blade, he knew this was only the beginning.
The past had never stayed forgotten.
And now, it stood ready to claim its place in the present.