The moment the name Ashveil echoed in Kade's soul, something shifted. The world dulled—the colors, the sounds, even the weight of his body. It all blurred into silence.
Then a voice—not external, not internal, but something woven into his being—spoke.
> "You remembered me. Finally."
Kade stood in a vast mental plane: a field of black glass under a stormless grey sky. At the center, a great sword was stabbed into the ground, its surface etched with symbols that glowed faintly.
He approached it.
"Ashveil?" he whispered.
> "More than a name. I am your burden. I am your blade."
A figure emerged from the haze—a man in tattered armor, with long pale hair and eyes like inverted stars.
> "I was your will when you were whole. I was forged from your choice to forget."
"What am I supposed to do with this?" Kade asked, barely able to stand under the weight of the voice.
> "Wield me. Or be consumed. There is no third path."
Kade reached for the sword.
And suddenly—a flood.
Memories poured in.
Blood. Screams. A city falling into the sky. People begging for salvation.
And in the center of it all—Kade, older, godlike, merciless.
Slaughtering without remorse.
He staggered back, shaking.
"No. That wasn't me."
> "It was," the voice said. "But you buried it."
> "And I was the lock."
> "Now… the seal is broken."
---
Reality snapped back.
Kade gasped and fell to his knees.
Lira caught him before he hit the ground. "Kade! Are you okay?"
His eyes flickered—silver over black.
"I saw it," he whispered. "What I used to be. What I used Ashveil for."
Aurelle didn't ask. She already knew.
Lira hesitated. "Then what now?"
Kade looked at his gauntlet.
Ashveil's runes had changed—less erratic, more precise. And a new glyph burned on his shoulder: a sigil shaped like an hourglass split by a blade.
> The Mark of Severance.
"It means I can cut fate," Kade said. "Sever possibilities. But only… once per day."
"That's dangerous," Aurelle said. "Reality might retaliate."
"It already is," Kade replied. "The more I remember, the more they notice me."
"Who?" Lira asked.
He looked toward the sky.
"The Watchers."
---
That night, the three of them camped at the edge of a frozen canyon.
Kade stood watch, eyes flickering between firelight and shadow.
Lira joined him, handing over a warm cup of herb tea.
"So... you used to be a monster."
Kade didn't answer right away.
"Yeah," he said eventually. "I was powerful. Worshipped. But I wasn't… me."
She sipped beside him. "Do you regret it?"
"I regret forgetting. Because now I don't know what part of me is real."
Lira nudged his shoulder. "You're real when you care. That's good enough."
He managed a small smile.
Then a scream pierced the stillness.
They jumped to their feet.
Aurelle was already ahead, blade drawn, racing into the trees.
What they found was chilling.
A trail of blood—and no footprints.
Just one thing: a mark carved into a tree.
A perfect circle with seven slashes through it.
Aurelle's face went pale.
"No," she breathed. "Not now."
"What is it?" Kade asked.
She drew a shaking breath.
"It's the sigil of the Severed Choir. One of the Eidolon Court's death cults."
"They kill timeline anchors?" Lira asked.
"No," Aurelle said. "They devour them."
---
Elsewhere, in a chamber of spiraling mirrors…
The masked woman knelt before a throne of pulsating crystal.
A voice, ancient and female, echoed from all around.
> "He has named the shard."
The woman nodded. "Ashveil. It's begun."
> "Then the weave thins. Send the Herald."
> "Let the cycle break—or bend."
A figure stepped from behind the throne—wrapped in veils of smoke and bone.
Its face was covered, but its voice... was familiar.
> "I have waited long for this soul."
---
End of Chapter 19