The void around Vero shimmered, shifting once again as the Echo pulled him deeper into its enigmatic grip. The silver-haired woman was gone, leaving him alone with his thoughts. The shard in his hand no longer pulsed but hummed softly, as if it were alive, guiding him forward.
Vero exhaled and looked around. The barren landscape had transformed into an ancient forest shrouded in perpetual twilight. Towering trees with glowing veins of blue light stretched into the sky, their branches twisting like skeletal hands. The air was heavy with an unnatural stillness, and a faint whispering sound seemed to echo from nowhere and everywhere at once.
He gripped his blade tightly, his senses on edge. This place felt different from the battlefield—less a memory and more a place meant to unnerve him, to test his resolve.
The whispers grew louder, forming words that sent shivers down his spine.
"Vero... do you remember?"
His steps faltered, but he forced himself forward. "I don't know what you're trying to show me, but I'll face it," he muttered under his breath.
The trees began to part, revealing a clearing bathed in an eerie silver light. At its center stood a small pedestal, and upon it rested an orb that radiated a faint, ghostly glow. The whispers seemed to emanate from the orb itself, drawing Vero closer.
He hesitated for a moment, then approached cautiously. The closer he got, the louder the whispers became until they coalesced into a single voice—calm, familiar, and haunting.
"You've forgotten so much," the voice said. "But this... this, you cannot run from."
---
Vero reached out to touch the orb, and the moment his fingers made contact, the world around him dissolved into light.
He was standing in a small, dimly lit room. The air smelled of parchment and ink, and the walls were lined with towering shelves filled with books and scrolls. A single desk sat in the center, illuminated by the faint glow of a lantern.
A figure was hunched over the desk—a young man with unruly dark hair and sharp features. He looked familiar in a way that made Vero's chest tighten.
The man turned, and Vero's breath caught. It was himself, younger and unscarred, his eyes alight with curiosity and determination.
"What is this?" Vero whispered, taking a step closer.
The younger version of himself didn't seem to notice him. Instead, he focused on the open book in front of him, muttering words under his breath that Vero couldn't quite make out.
Suddenly, the younger Vero slammed the book shut and stood, his expression hardening. "This is it," he said aloud. "The truth... but at what cost?"
The room darkened, and shadows began to creep in from the edges, swallowing the bookshelves and walls. The younger Vero turned to face the encroaching darkness, his hand reaching for something—a glowing shard, identical to the one Vero now held.
"No!" the younger Vero shouted, his voice echoing in the void. "I won't let it take me!"
The shadows surged forward, engulfing him. Vero tried to move, to intervene, but his body felt rooted in place. All he could do was watch as the younger version of himself was consumed, his screams fading into silence.