The first attack didn't come with fire.
Or blades.
Or thunder.
It came with forgetting.
---
At dawn, when the bells of Vel'thera sang their morning harmony, three Spiral Bearers did not wake.
Their bodies were untouched.
Their hearts still beat.
But their eyes were hollow.
Like pages where a name had been erased.
Nima was the first to scream.
She shook them—Jolan, Aris, and Fen—crying their names, trying to spark a flicker of memory.
Nothing.
No recognition.
Not even fear.
Only silence.
Only loss.
---
Isen arrived seconds later, breath ragged, Darian at her side.
"They've been… emptied," Nima whispered. "They're here… but not in here."
The Ninth appeared, its form dimmer than usual.
"Sythr'aen has begun. He does not destroy the body. He consumes meaning."
---
In the city's heart, the Spire pulsed with unnatural rhythm.
The mirrors—once still—were now rippling.
Images of every bearer began to shift.
Kaela's reflected version no longer held a sword.
