Unraveling the Vision
Eryndor's breath came in short, uneven gasps. The vision had felt too real—as if he had truly been there. The battlefield, the war, the armor… all of it felt familiar.
But that was impossible. Wasn't it?
Lysara tightened her grip on his arm. "Eryndor, we're leaving. Now."
Eryndor tried to shake off the dizziness clouding his mind. "That vision… I saw a war, Lysara. A battle from the past. And I—" He hesitated. "I was there."
Lysara's face darkened. "That doesn't make sense. You were reborn in this world, right? There's no way you could've—"
A cold voice interrupted them.
"Are you certain of that, child of the abyss?"
The air turned heavy. The ruins trembled, the inscriptions on the stone pillars glowing with eerie blue light.
And then—it appeared.
---
The Keeper of Kael'Dun
A shadowy figure emerged from the mist, its form shifting like smoke. A hooded entity, featureless yet imposing, as if it existed between reality and illusion.
Lysara stepped in front of Eryndor, her hand instinctively reaching for her dagger. "Who are you?"
The figure ignored her, its unseen gaze locked onto Eryndor.
"You have begun to awaken, and yet you do not remember." Its voice was neither deep nor high-pitched—it simply was.
Eryndor clenched his fists. "What do you mean?"
The figure lifted a ghostly hand, and the ruins around them twisted.
Suddenly, Eryndor felt his vision blur again. **Images flashed before his eyes—**a great war, warriors clad in ethereal armor, a darkened sky, a monstrous entity looming over a broken world.
And at the center of it all—him.
But it wasn't him.
Not as he was now.
The entity's voice echoed. "You were once part of a cycle beyond your understanding. A war fought in the shadows of time. And now, you walk the path again."
Eryndor gasped as the vision faded, leaving behind a sharp pain in his head. "What… what am I?"
The figure remained silent for a moment before whispering, "A forgotten piece of fate."
And then, it attacked.
---
The Trial Begins
The ground beneath Eryndor shattered as tendrils of shadow shot toward him. He barely dodged, rolling to the side.
Lysara unsheathed her dagger and lunged forward, her blade glowing with enchantment. But before she could strike, the figure vanished.
Eryndor's instincts screamed—he turned just in time to block an incoming strike with his sword. The force sent him skidding backward.
This thing was fast.
And worse—it wasn't physical.
Lysara gritted her teeth. "Damn it! How do we fight something that isn't even solid?"
The entity's voice whispered around them. "This is not a battle. It is a reckoning."
A dark force wrapped around Eryndor's arm, seeping into his skin. A strange energy pulsed through him—not painful, but intrusive. As if something was being… unlocked.
And then, a memory surfaced.
A name. A title.
A power that had been his before.
His eyes widened. "No… this can't be—"
The ruins trembled. The ground cracked. The weight of something ancient, something forgotten, pressed down on him.
And Eryndor felt his past self staring back at him.
---
End of Chapter 8