"To know the truth is to break the ground beneath your feet."
The storm had stopped.
The world was silent.
Lengaza stood in the heart of the desolation, staring at the ruins of what used to be the village. There was no storm, no blinding winds—only the quiet hum of something ancient beneath the earth. The ground was cracked, the air thick with memories and ghosts, yet Lengaza felt an unsettling peace settle over him. The truth was within reach.
Nyra was still beside him, her expression unreadable as she scanned the horizon. Her lips parted, but no words came.
Lengaza turned to her, his eyes burning with questions.
"What happened here? What did they do?"
Nyra didn't answer immediately. She walked toward the village, the ruins seeming to call her as if she were part of the land itself. Her gaze flickered to the distant horizon, where the remnants of the storm seemed to linger like a memory, refusing to leave.
They passed through the wreckage, the once-vibrant homes now nothing more than skeletal outlines etched into the earth. The air here was dense, heavy, as if time had been suspended.
"Do you see it now?" Nyra asked softly, as she stopped before a large stone tablet half-buried beneath the earth. The markings were faded, but Lengaza could make out a few words: "Born of Ashes."
Lengaza crouched down beside her, his hand hovering over the words. The pulse in his chest matched the rhythm of the distant thrum beneath the ground.
"Born of Ashes..." He muttered, the words unfamiliar but strangely familiar at the same time. "Who was I before?"
Nyra stood tall, her expression soft but filled with something darker—a sorrow. Her fingers brushed over the tablet, and it seemed to whisper.
"This is where it began," she whispered. "But it wasn't just you. There were others—created by the same force that wanted to reshape this world."
Lengaza's heart raced. He stood up abruptly. "Others? What does that mean? What's happened to them?"
Nyra didn't reply, but her eyes darkened. Instead, she turned toward the center of the village, toward the obelisk, which loomed over the remains like a dark sentinel.
The Obelisk.
A tall, dark structure of stone, with strange markings—whorls, spirals, and something else... something that felt like a memory.
Lengaza stepped forward, his legs moving as if drawn by an unseen force. The ground around the obelisk trembled beneath his feet. The air grew colder. His breath came in visible clouds, even though the storm had passed. Something was awakening.
He placed a hand on the obelisk. The markings shifted, glowing faintly.
"What is this?" he asked, voice hoarse.
Nyra's eyes locked with his.
"You were never meant to remember... but the truth won't be buried forever."
The air around them pulsed. Then, in an instant, the earth beneath them cracked open, and something rose from the ground.
A figure.
Tall, its face hidden beneath a hood of shadows. It was humanoid, but it moved in unnatural ways. Its eyes gleamed with an eerie glow.
The Collector.
He was standing there, more real than ever before.
"You think you can undo what's been done?" the Collector's voice rumbled, each word echoing like thunder. "You are a failure, Lengaza. Just like the others before you."
Lengaza stepped back, heart pounding. Nyra's face twisted in grief. She raised a hand, but before she could speak, the Collector's voice boomed.
"The world will never accept you. The names you carry are not yours. The world has already forgotten you, Lengaza. You will be erased again. You never should have remembered."
Lengaza clenched his fists. The storm might have passed, but the storm within him still raged.
"I don't need your permission to exist," he shouted, voice shaking with fury. "And I don't need you to rewrite my story."
He raised his hand, feeling the pulse of energy building within him. Power surged through his body, filling him with the force of a thousand storms. The Obelisk cracked, then shattered into pieces. The markings on the ground flashed bright, illuminating the sky.
The Collector stood still for a moment, his eyes flickering with doubt. Then, with a low growl, he lunged forward, but Nyra intercepted him, her body flickering in and out of reality.
"No more," she said, her voice calm but resolute. "This ends here."
The earth trembled. Lengaza felt his power explode outward, pushing the Collector back with an unstoppable force. The sky seemed to darken as if the world itself recognized what was happening.
And then—silence.
Lengaza stood, chest heaving. Nyra stood beside him, her expression unreadable. The storm was gone. The Obelisk shattered. But the truth remained. And he could feel it.
"You were never meant to be erased," Nyra said softly, stepping forward.
Lengaza turned to her, eyes burning with newfound purpose.
"Who am I?" he asked.
Nyra's eyes softened as she looked at him. For a moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift.
"You are the beginning," she said quietly. "The one who will remake everything."