The journey to Sil'vara was not one measured in distance, but in dread. As Zayn crossed over the jagged peaks of the Ashen Mountains, a noticeable shift crept into the world. Clouds hung lower, grey and unmoving, and even the sun seemed hesitant to shine upon the cursed land below. The forests died first—green giving way to ash, then to blackened trunks twisted by time and sorrow. And then came the silence. Not a bird. Not a breath of wind. Only the sound of Zayn's boots crunching the brittle, glass-like soil.
Sil'vara, once a kingdom of light and lore, had been wiped from maps five thousand years ago. According to myths, it was where the Star Priests first worshipped the constellations and created divine artifacts in their temples. But one day, the entire kingdom vanished overnight, leaving behind nothing but ruins and a legend: Those who seek the stars in Sil'vara will hear whispers—and be lost forever.
Zayn felt them almost immediately.
The moment he stepped past the first broken archway of the ancient city, voices stirred at the edge of his mind. They didn't speak in words, but memories. Emotions. Echoes. He blinked, and saw a vision—children running through marble streets, banners fluttering under the moon, and priests chanting in unison beneath an open sky.
Then—screams. Fires. Black stars falling like rain. Shadows consuming everything.
Zayn stumbled.
The Celestial Staff pulsed in his hand, anchoring his mind. The vision faded. Ahead, the great ruin of the Temple of Hollow Skies towered over shattered buildings. That was where the first Celestial Star was sealed.
He approached with caution.
Each step toward the temple deepened the pressure on his soul. A force—ancient and hungry—pressed against his spirit, as if testing him, weighing his worth. The staff pulsed again. The glowing gem on its shaft brightened. It responded not to his cultivation, but to his intent.
Inside the temple, a spiral staircase led deep underground. The whispers grew louder. Faces flickered in the walls—phantoms of Sil'vara's dead, watching. Some wept. Others grinned with cracked teeth. But Zayn kept walking.
Finally, he reached a circular chamber, silent and vast. At its center hovered a shard of crystalline light—the First Celestial Star, suspended above a black stone altar carved with constellations. It spun slowly, humming with cosmic energy.
But before he could approach, the chamber shifted.
The floor beneath him rippled like water, and a figure rose from the ground—formed of dust, bone, and fragments of broken memories.
A woman, or what had once been one.
Her face was serene, but her eyes were voids.
"Who seeks the First Light?" she asked in a voice that echoed in the mind, not the air.
"I am Zayn," he said, stepping forward. "Successor of the Star Flame, bearer of the Sealing Staff. I seek the Seven to mend what was broken."
Her eyes narrowed.
"Do you carry sorrow?"
"Yes."
"Do you carry greed?"
"No."
"Do you carry sacrifice?"
Zayn paused. "Not yet. But I will."
She extended her hand. "Then show me your soul."
The moment he touched her, his body went rigid.
His spirit was dragged into a realm beyond time—a trial of the mind, the soul, and all hidden truths. He stood in a reflection of his childhood, watching his younger self run through the burned village where he once lived. He saw his mother smile through tears. His father kneel, hiding blood on his hands. He saw the divine beast that destroyed his home—and the choice he made to survive, stepping over corpses, eyes cold.
"You carry sorrow," the woman's voice echoed.
Then another memory.
The Tower of Selection. His trials. The admiration of others. The desire to be the strongest. The moment he first saw the Celestial Flame—and chose to chase not power, but meaning.
"You carry purpose," she whispered.
And then—his vision shattered.
He stood again in the chamber.
The woman was kneeling now. Her body cracking. Her voice softer.
"You are worthy. Take the Star. And remember—each light you gather awakens the dark."
Zayn stepped forward.
The crystal hovered into his palm.
The instant he touched it, it sank into the staff—and one of the seven gems flared to life. Light exploded across the room. The walls pulsed with long-forgotten chants. The air shimmered.
A distant rumble shook the ground.
Another seal had been restored.
And far away—in the void where The Nameless One stirred—another eye opened.