Shadows of Memory

The world breathed mana—a living current that pulsed through existence like invisible veins. To those attuned to its rhythm, mana danced as luminescent threads, waiting to be woven by will. A whispered word could ignite a flame. A cherished memory could forge unbreakable steel. But for Elias Veyth, these threads remained elusive, shimmering just beyond his grasp. In Aetherwyn, magic wasn't merely power—it was the lifeblood of the city. Built upon a nexus of raw mana, thrummed with primordial energy. Magic permeated every facet of life: vendors hawked mana-spun trinkets that hummed with latent potential, children chased lumenwyrms—serpentine creatures of light conjured by passing mages—and even the cobblestones beneath his feet resonated with lingering enchantments. Elias observed this vibrant world from the periphery, a silent spectator in a city ablaze with magical wonder. He sat beside his sister, Lila, in their family's small garden, a sanctuary of carefully cultivated mana-infused flora. Lila, barely twelve but already a prodigy, knelt beside a rosebush, its velvety crimson petals unfurling under her gentle touch. Her mana heart, a metaphysical core nestled just beneath her sternum, pulsed with a warm, golden light as she concentrated. "Watch, Elias," she said, her voice filled with youthful confidence. She held out her hand, palm open to the sky, her brow furrowed in concentration. The mana threads surrounding her wrist responded instantly, twisting and condensing like shimmering silk. A falcon materialized—not an illusion, but a creature of pure, molten gold. It screeched, a piercing cry that echoed through the garden, then swooped playfully towards Elias before dissolving into a shower of glittering embers. Lila turned, beaming, her chest glowing softly where her mana heart beat with vibrant energy. "Your turn," she challenged, though her smile held a touch of gentle encouragement. Elias clenched his fists, a familiar frustration tightening in his chest. He could feel the mana—a pressure in his ribs, a phantom whisper in his blood. It was like hearing a beautiful melody but being unable to play a single note. He closed his eyes, trying to conjure an image in his mind, but his inner vision remained stubbornly dark. No threads answered his silent call. His mana heart, he knew, remained stubbornly dormant, a broken instrument in a city-wide symphony of magic. Lila's smile faltered slightly, her initial exuberance replaced by a softer, more protective expression. "Maybe next time, Elias," she murmured, placing a comforting hand on his arm. Weeks later, a strange malady began to creep through Aetherwyn's vibrant tapestry. Memoriae Umbrae—the Shadows of Memory—was unlike any plague the city had ever faced. It didn't merely attack the body; it targeted the very essence of magical existence. The first signs were subtle. Mages found their spell craft faltering, the delicate threads of mana fraying at their touch. Then, memories began to unravel, twisting into eidolons: physical manifestations of raw, untamed emotion. A soldier's suppressed rage might become a monstrous ,wolf with blades of crystallized anger. A mother's unresolved grief could birth a wraith with fractured mirror eyes that reflected only loss. The stronger the memory, the more potent and dangerous the eidolon. Elias's mother, Alara, a renowned historian and archivist, was among the first to succumb. He found her in the garden, her hands buried in soil that had turned black and viscous, the roses she so lovingly tended now withered and brown. Silver veins, the plague's telltale mark, crawled up her neck, and her mana heart flickered erratically, casting a sickly, pale light through her thin tunic. "Elias," she whispered, her voice fragmented, as though she were struggling to grasp the words. "The roses... I can't... remember their color." "Crimson," he said, his voice trembling as he gripped her shoulders. "Like Lila's ribbons." "Crimson..." she repeated, her eyes clouding over. The ground beneath them trembled. A thorned vine erupted from the blackened soil, its petals unfurling into screaming faces—an eidolon, born from her fractured memory. Elias recoiled as the creature lashed out, its thorns grazing his cheek, leaving a burning trail. He saw the raw grief and terror in his mother's eyes, reflected in the eidolon's distorted features. What made Elias unique, and what tormented him, was his ability to perceive the intricate dance of mana, even though he couldn't participate. Where other mages saw potential, he saw the complete, breathtaking, and ultimately unattainable tapestry—a gift that felt more like a cruel curse. As the weeks bled into one another, Aetherwyn's initial confidence crumbled. Healers worked tirelessly, but the Memoriae Umbrae spread like a spiritual contagion, corrupting the city's vibrant magical ecosystem. One twilight, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long, ominous shadows across the city, everything changed. The mana confluence beneath Aetherwyn surged violently, shaking the very foundations of the city. Streets buckled and erupted into chaos. Mana-infused structures shattered, releasing torrents of raw, uncontrolled energy. Eidolons emerged an masse—physical nightmares born from the city's collective forgotten traumas. At the heart of the Crimson Bazaar, where the Fountain of Celestial Tears once pulsed with concentrated magical energy, a figure cloaked in voidsilk stood motionless. The fabric seemed to devour the ambient mana, creating a vacuum that made Elias's teeth ache. He could seethe mana threads recoiling from the figure, as if repulsed by its very presence. "Elias Veyth," the figure spoke, its voice like water flowing over smooth stone. "Your mana heart is silent... yet you see the currents." hmm" Interesting" And before Elias could respond, the figure revealed a voidseed—an obsidian orb that seemed to absorb all light and magic, a leech on the city's very soul. "The plague cannot be fought with light," it hissed, its voice echoing with an unnatural resonance. "To kill shadows, you must become the abyss." "So boy what is your choice "Remain a phantom in a world of light... or wield the darkness to save them?" A vision flashed through Elias's mind: Lila, her bright mana heart extinguished, her laughter silenced forever. His mother, consumed by the thorns of her own forgotten pain. The whole city, drowning in a sea of eidolons, its vibrant magic twisted into grotesque parodies. Behind him, the stained-glass windows of a nearby apothecary shattered. A scream—first human, then something utterly inhuman—signaled the eidolons' approach. Their forms were indistinct in the twilight, but Elias could feel their hunger, their desperate craving for the memories they had lost. The voidseed pulsed, a dark promise hanging in the air. It offered both damnation and a desperate, terrifying salvation. Elias reached out, his fingers brushing against the cold, smooth surface of the orb. And with a last words the figure continue "The plague feeds on brilliance, "they hissed. "To fight shadows, you must wield darker things."