The wind howled like a wounded beast through the shattered ruins of Eldewan. Broken spires jutted toward the overcast sky, their once-glorious marble now dulled and scorched. Yeo stood at the edge of the crumbling terrace, his cloak snapping behind him, eyes fixed on the horizon where the light of the first arc had once touched the heavens. Now, only ash danced.
The battle at the Rift had left more than scars. It had left questions. Why had he seen glimpses of someone else's memories when he touched the Fragment? Why had the name "Kael" echoed in his mind—a name he had never known, yet felt etched into his very bones?
"Still haunted?" asked Leiran, her boots crunching over broken stone as she approached. Her voice, rough and steady, grounded him more than she realized.
Yeo nodded. "The past is louder now than ever."
They weren't alone. Survivors of the scattered kingdoms—mages, wanderers, and outlaws alike—had begun gathering in the old cities. Something about the Fragments drew them together, and not all had noble intent.
Deep beneath the ruined library of Eldewan, the team discovered a sealed vault, bound by ancient glyphs and a language older than the gods. It was Leiran who deciphered the phrase burned across the door: "Here lies the Truth Forgotten."
When they opened it, they found The Chronicle of Ash, a book of living flame that refused to be held by mortal hands. It whispered. It wept. And within it, Yeo saw images—not just of the past, but of possibilities. Battles never fought. Worlds never born. And a warning:
> "He who gathers the Fragments shall shatter the veil… or become the veil itself."
As the chapter closed, a shadow watched from a distance. A figure cloaked in red and silver, bearing a half-shattered mask. He did not speak, but the Remnant symbol burned crimson across his palm.
The past had not only returned.
It had plans.