The morning came not with sunlight, but a gray haze that barely separated night from day. A heavy fog drifted between the twisted remnants of the ancient city, and silence stretched through the ruins, thick and watchful. There were no birds, no wind — only the faint pulse of magic echoing beneath the ground, like a heartbeat under the skin of the world.
Liam sat alone by the glowing trees, watching the mist curl between the roots. His fingers moved absentmindedly across the dirt, tracing the same rune over and over again. The mark had come to him in a dream — or perhaps it had been a memory. He couldn't be sure anymore.
The others slept nearby. Kael, ever the vigilant warrior, leaned against a broken pillar with his blade in hand. Nyra was curled in a makeshift blanket of summoned vines. Aeris… she hadn't slept. She watched Liam from a short distance, her eyes unreadable.
Master Veyrion approached silently, a steaming cup of something herbal in hand. "For the mind, not just the body," he said, handing it to Liam.
Liam took it without a word. The warmth grounded him. Slightly.
"You're not just touched by the fragments," Veyrion said quietly. "You're bonded. That connection — it can't be undone."
"I never asked for it," Liam muttered.
"None of us did," Veyrion replied. "But we are chosen all the same."
A pause.
Then, Veyrion looked toward the fog. "Before we go further, you need to understand what came before. What led Elira — and Nytherion — to where they are now."
Flashback – Decades Earlier
The Realm burned.
Flames licked across the sky, and the Citadel of Mirrors crumbled under an endless assault of corrupted beasts. Magic screamed through the air, clashing against dark spells that twisted reality. At the center of the chaos stood Elira — her hair wild, her robes scorched, blood dripping from a wound at her side.
She fought like fury itself.
Across the battlefield, Nytherion carved through enemies with unmatched grace. His twin blades sang with each strike, coated in shadows that bent to his will. But his eyes — his eyes were lost. Empty. Not with hatred, but devastation.
Elira reached for him between attacks. "Nytherion! We have to seal it — now!"
He didn't answer.
From the heart of the collapsing sky, a voice boomed — cold and ancient. It spoke not in words, but in truths that cracked bones and bent wills. "You defy what must be. Let go, and you shall be remade."
Elira screamed against it. Her hand found the final seal — a shard of the Mirrorbound Spell, glowing with hope. She was ready.
But then she saw Nytherion fall.
Something struck him — not physically, but spiritually. His soul wrenched forward, ripped open, exposed. The entity within the rift found him in that moment of despair and whispered:
"She will die. Unless you become mine."
He chose her.
And in doing so, was undone.
Liam gasped.
The vision hit him like a wave, unbidden and sharp. Veyrion was still beside him, watching.
"You saw it too," Liam whispered.
"A glimpse. The bond is growing stronger. These memories are returning to you — perhaps because the fragments trust you now."
Aeris stepped forward. "What do we do with them? If Liam is seeing Elira's past… maybe we can find a way to stop this before Nytherion reaches full corruption."
Veyrion's face was grave. "He is already corrupted. But you may yet find the last sliver of who he once was — and that may be enough."
He stood. "Come. The third fragment sleeps beneath the ruins of the Old Ministry. A place lost between both worlds. We must reach it before his sentinels do."
The journey through the broken city was perilous. The fog never lifted, and strange creatures stirred in the corners of vision — illusions, or perhaps memories bleeding into reality. Time itself seemed twisted here. Buildings shifted when unobserved. Shadows whispered secrets Liam didn't understand.
Finally, they reached the old Ministry.
A tower of obsidian glass — shattered at the top — with doors sealed by runes long extinct. Veyrion placed his hand against them.
"This place was once the center of magical governance. Before the Cataclysm. The third fragment was hidden in its heart."
A surge of light responded to his touch.
The doors groaned open.
Inside, the air was thick with silence and old grief. Statues lined the halls — broken visages of Realm leaders long dead. The walls pulsed faintly with echoing spells.
Liam stepped forward.
With every step, the fragment's presence grew stronger. It was below them. Calling.
But so was something else.
Nyra stopped. "We're not alone."
A scream split the air — inhuman, jagged.
From the side corridors, armored figures emerged. Shadow-forged sentinels, crafted in the likeness of Realm guardians, but hollow. Their eyes glowed with Nytherion's brand.
Kael didn't wait. "Form up!"
Aeris summoned her blades, spinning into battle. Kael's wind magic surged, sending the first wave crashing back. Nyra unleashed a beast — a massive spectral lion — that roared through their ranks.
Liam froze.
The fragment was right below them. But so was… something else. Another presence. Watching.
He closed his eyes, and for a moment, he saw a figure — cloaked in blue fire, standing in the depths of the Ministry, waiting.
He knew that face.
Not from memory.
From dreams.
Elira.