Kael and Mareth trudged through the twisting forest paths, the air charged with an almost palpable tension. The faint hum of the Sacred Realm's heart whispered in the distance, but Kael barely noticed.
For weeks now, shards of memories had been surfacing in his mind half-formed images, indistinct voices, and flashes of faces that didn't quite feel like his own. They clung to him like shadows, tantalizing yet out of reach after his reincarnation.
"You're unusually quiet," Mareth said, breaking the silence. He flexed his gauntleted hands, his sharp eyes scanning their surroundings. "It's unsettling."
Kael sighed, his hand instinctively brushing the hilt of Veilbreaker. "Just... trying to make sense of things. These memories they don't belong to me. At least, they don't feel like they do."
Mareth snorted. "You're in the Sacred Realm, Kael. It's old, powerful. It has a way of digging into your head and pulling out things you'd rather leave buried."
Kael didn't reply. The unease gnawing at him didn't feel like the Sacred Realm's doing.
Their conversation was cut short as they stepped into a clearing. The dense trees gave way to an open space bathed in dim, ethereal light. The air here felt different heavier, colder, like a storm about to break.
Three figures emerged from the shadows at the clearing's edge. Cloaked and hooded, they moved with a predatory grace, their weapons glinting faintly with residual mana.
Kael and Mareth stopped, tension rippling through their muscles.
"Who are you?" Kael called out, his voice steady despite the unease curling in his gut.
The figures didn't answer immediately. One stepped forward, pulling back their hood to reveal a sharp-featured man with piercing gray eyes. His expression twisted between disbelief and fury.
"It's him," the man said, his voice low and filled with venom.
The other two figures stiffened, their hands tightening on their weapons.
Kael frowned. "You know me?"
The lead figure's face darkened. "You shouldn't be alive. You were supposed to die with the rest of your family."
Kael's chest tightened. "What are you talking about? What do you know about my family?"
The second figure, a scarred woman, laughed bitterly. "He doesn't remember. Of course, he doesn't. Convenient for you, Kael Ardyn Veyrannis."
Mareth turned sharply to Kael. "Veyrannis? Care to explain that one?"
"I don't remember!" Kael snapped, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "I don't even know who these people are!"
The third figure, a woman with cold green eyes, stepped closer, her voice sharp as a blade. "Your family stood in the way of progress, clinging to their ideals like fools. When the elders took power, we made sure none of you would challenge us again. And yet, here you are."
Kael's stomach twisted. Memories he couldn't grasp stirred at the edges of his mind, fragments of something lost to him. "What happened to my family?"
The scarred woman's sneer deepened. "The elders seized control after your parents disappeared. We made sure of it. Your death was supposed to seal the deal. But now..." Her gaze burned with hatred. "We'll finish what we started."
The three lunged simultaneously, their daggers flashing in the dim light.
"Kael, move!" Mareth roared, charging forward. His gauntleted fists slammed into the lead attacker, sending them reeling.
Kael wasn't as lucky. One of the attackers was on him in an instant, their blade slicing across his arm before he could fully draw Veilbreaker. The sharp sting of the wound jolted him, but he forced himself to counter, parrying their next strike with a desperate swing of his sword.
"You don't deserve to carry blade!" the scarred woman snarled, her strikes relentless.
Kael deflected one blow but missed the second. Her dagger cut into his side, the pain searing as blood seeped through his tunic. He gritted his teeth, retaliating with a sweeping arc of Veilbreaker that forced her back.
Mareth wasn't faring much better. The third attacker's movements were swift and precise, their daggers clashing against his gauntlets in a flurry of sparks. "These people are insane!" he growled, ducking a strike. "What the hell did you do to piss them off?"
"I don't know!" Kael shouted, blocking another strike.
The lead figure darted in, their blade slicing across Kael's thigh. He stumbled, pain shooting through his leg as he barely managed to raise Veilbreaker in time to parry the next blow.
"You don't even remember your sins," the attacker hissed, their voice dripping with contempt. "How fitting."
Kael twisted away, his movements growing sluggish as the pain from his wounds began to take its toll. "I'm not the person you think I am! I didn't do anything to you!"
The scarred woman laughed, a cold, hollow sound. "You carry the name Veyrannis. That's enough."
Her next strike found its mark, cutting across Kael's shoulder. He staggered, his grip on Veilbreaker faltering. Blood dripped from his wounds, staining the ground beneath him.
"Kael!" Mareth shouted, slamming his opponent into a tree before rushing to his side. "Get it together!"
Kael's vision blurred, his body screaming in protest. But something in the attackers' words ignited a fire deep within him a spark of defiance that refused to be snuffed out.
With a roar, he channeled his mana into Veilbreaker. Dark energy surged through the blade, exploding outward in a wave that sent his assailants stumbling. The momentary reprieve gave him just enough time to steady himself.
The lead figure recovered quickly, their eyes blazing with hatred. "You can't run from your bloodline, Kael. You'll die like the rest of them!"
Kael's grip on Veilbreaker tightened, his voice raw with fury. "You betrayed my family. You stole everything from us. And you expect me to die quietly?"
The fight resumed with renewed intensity, every clash of steel driving Kael and Mareth closer to the brink of exhaustion. Blood stained the clearing, the air thick with the metallic tang of mana and desperation.
Kael's movements were slower now, his wounds sapping his strength. But he fought on, every strike fueled by a growing resolve. The attackers' words had unlocked something within him—not memories, but a deep, unshakable truth:
His family's legacy was not as dead as they believed. And he would not fall without a fight.