The archive's grand hall stretched before Vaelor like the spine of an ancient beast, its towering shelves rising into darkness, stacked with knowledge no mortal hands should hold. His boots pounded against the cold marble floor, his breath sharp and ragged as he sprinted between the endless rows of books.
Behind him, the Wardens of Fate moved with the certainty of gods. They did not run. They did not rush. They walked, and yet their presence loomed closer with every step, reality itself bending to their will.
Vaelor had known the risks. The moment he had touched The Unshackled Codex, he had sealed his fate. No one defied the Divine Council and lived to speak of it.
A sharp gust of wind howled through the archive, carrying with it the scent of burning parchment. The very air warped as divine magic laced the atmosphere, thick as molten gold. Vaelor knew what would come next.
"Erase the transgressor. Rewrite the timeline."
The decree had been spoken before—countless times. The Wardens of Fate were not enforcers. They were executioners of memory, wielding the authority to erase a person from existence itself.
Vaelor ducked behind a pillar, pressing himself against the cold stone as his mind raced. Running was futile. The archive was sacred ground, existing between history and the present, a place where time did not flow as it should. There was no escape—at least, none that existed within the laws of the world.
But The Unshackled Codex was not bound by such laws.
His fingers clenched around the tome as he forced himself to breathe.
The pages had bled. The walls had whispered. The book was more than knowledge—it was a key.
"Think, Vaelor. Think."
A shadow passed over him.
He barely had time to react before the space beside him fractured.
The lead Warden extended a gauntleted hand, and with a mere gesture, the world around Vaelor tore apart. The stone warped, folding inward like parchment burned at the edges, threatening to erase him from existence. The very concept of him was unraveling. His past. His future. Everything.
But Vaelor was already moving.
He slammed his hand against the open page of The Unshackled Codex and spoke.
A word. A name. A fragment of something that should not be remembered.
The world shuddered.
For a fraction of a second, time halted. The weight of history collapsed upon itself, and in that moment—Vaelor was no longer there.
---
The Echoing Ruins
He landed hard, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs. Cold, damp stone pressed against his palms. The scent of rain and ancient dust filled his senses.
Vaelor coughed, pushing himself upright. His vision swam, but his instincts screamed at him—move.
He was no longer in the archive.
No grand halls. No celestial shelves. Only ruin.
The remnants of towering spires lay shattered around him, crumbling under the weight of forgotten history. The sky above churned, a canvas of shifting stars and ink-black voids, as if the heavens themselves were unsure of what era they belonged to.
Velmora.
But not as it was.
This was Velmora before the gods. Before the Divine Council had written its history in stone. Before the world had been revised.
The book still lay open in his grasp, its pages fluttering against the cold wind.
And then—
A whisper.
Not from the book. Not from the walls.
From the ruins themselves.
"You have unshackled time, Vaelor."
He turned slowly.
At the heart of the ruins stood a figure.
Not a god.
Not a Warden.
Not a mortal.
Their presence was impossible—a paradox that should not exist. Their form flickered between realities, shifting between a scholar, a warrior, a ghost, and something else entirely.
"You have broken the first seal," they said, their voice layered, as though spoken from countless mouths across countless timelines.
Vaelor took a step back, gripping the book tightly.
"Who are you?" he demanded.
The figure did not move, but the very air around them distorted, as if reality struggled to define them.
"I am what remains of what was forgotten."
Their hollow gaze met his.
"Do you truly wish to remember?"
Vaelor did not answer immediately.
He rose to his feet, steadying himself as the cold air of the ruins bit into his skin. The city around him—Velmora, the lost Velmora—was no mere relic. This was a place that had been erased from history, struck from the annals of time itself. The Divine Council had not merely rewritten its fate; they had ensured it would never have existed at all.
And yet, here it stood.
"I wouldn't have come this far if I feared the truth," Vaelor said at last, his voice firm despite the chill in his bones. "Tell me what I've unshackled."
The figure was silent for a moment, as if measuring his resolve. Then, with a single outstretched hand, reality warped.
The ruins around them blurred, melting into golden strands of light, weaving together a new image—a city not of ruin, but of splendor. Towers of ivory and obsidian stood against a sky of endless stars. Streets pulsed with energy, flowing like rivers of light. The air hummed with magic so dense it became tangible, folding into the very fabric of existence.
This was Velmora as it had once been. A city of knowledge, of power—of defiance.
"The first city," the figure murmured. "The last rebellion."
Vaelor turned in place, taking in the vision before him.
"Before the Divine Council," the figure continued, "before the world was sculpted into what you know, there was no fate. No predestined order. Velmora was the heart of that belief. A place where history was not written by gods, but by mortals who dared to shape their own destinies."
They gestured toward the grandest structure of all—the Celestial Spire, an impossible tower that stretched beyond the sky, its peak lost in the firmament.
"It was here that the first scholars discovered the truth. That the world was not fixed. That history was not absolute. That the laws of existence could be rewritten—if one held the right knowledge."
Vaelor's grip on The Unshackled Codex tightened.
"You mean this."
The figure's gaze—if it could be called that—shifted toward the book.
"A fragment of what was lost," they confirmed. "The Divine Council feared what Velmora had become. They did not wage war. They did not destroy it with fire and steel. No—they unwrote it. They reached into the threads of reality and pulled Velmora from the tapestry of existence itself."
Vaelor exhaled, his breath misting in the cold air.
"But you remember," he said.
The figure inclined their head.
"I remember because I am beyond their grasp. I exist outside their laws, a remnant of what was. A paradox. Just as you are now."
A chill crawled down Vaelor's spine.
He had always suspected that knowledge alone was not what the Divine Council feared. Power was meaningless to gods who had shaped reality itself. No, what they feared was something far greater.
Choice.
True, unfettered will. The ability to define existence outside of their decree.
And now, by touching The Unshackled Codex, by invoking the forgotten word—he had placed himself beyond their control.
The realization was both intoxicating and terrifying.
The ruins wavered, the golden threads unraveling as reality settled once more. Velmora's splendor faded, and the broken city returned—silent, forsaken, waiting.
The figure stood unmoving.
"The first seal has been broken," they said again. "The Council will feel the fracture. Their Wardens will come—not merely to erase you, but to mend the wound you have torn in their perfect design."
Vaelor felt the weight of the words press upon him.
"And the other seals?" he asked.
A pause.
Then—
"They were hidden before Velmora was erased. Scattered beyond time, beyond memory. If they are broken, the world will no longer be bound by the Council's hand."
The air grew heavy. The words were unspoken, but clear.
The choice is yours.
To walk away now was to accept exile, to remain outside the reach of time itself—a shadow, forgotten and unmade.
But to seek the remaining seals…
It would mean war. A war not of swords and armies, but of reality itself. A war against gods who had shaped history with a single decree.
Vaelor glanced down at the book in his hands.
The pages whispered to him, shifting between what was and what could be.
He looked up, meeting the hollow gaze of the figure before him.
And he made his choice.
"I will remember," he said. "I will find the seals. And I will unshackle the world."
The figure inclined their head.
"Then the true path begins."
And with those words, the ruins trembled. The air split.
And Vaelor stepped forward into the unknown.