Location Two of Six — The Cave of Echoing Remembrance
"Not all echoes repeat the past. Some lead to the truth yet to come."
Beneath the jungle's secret waterfall, carved into the very bones of the earth, lay the Cave of Memory — a place older than any kingdom, predating even the names whispered by the gods. Its entrance, narrow and crystalline, opened into a cathedral-sized cavern, so vast it felt like they had stepped into the hollowed chest of a sleeping god.
The ceiling stretched beyond sight, glittering with silver-stone and embedded fragments of ancient souls. Shards of long-forgotten memories drifted in the air like floating embers. Each one was warm to the touch — each one carried a whisper, a moment, a sorrow or a joy from lifetimes long extinguished.
The Cave of Memory was alive.
It thrummed softly, pulsing with stories. Its core was riddled with over ten thousand doorways—arches carved from obsidian, bone, glowing crystal, or petrified vines. Some doors hissed when approached, others sang, and some even wept. Each was a path, a possibility… but only one led to the Third Amendment.
Mist hovered across the stone floor, muffling footsteps. Strange bioluminescent vines grew upside down from the ceiling, their blossoms releasing faint tones as though the cave breathed music. The whole place felt sacred — terrifyingly vast, yet intimately personal, as if it already knew your deepest regrets.
At the center, atop a platform surrounded by chasms that shone with starlight, sat Rokun, the Cavekeeper.
He was a dwarf, not more than four feet tall, but his presence was immense. His beard flowed like a waterfall of molten metal, braided with rune-stamped iron rings. His arms were folded across a broad, armored chest, and his back leaned against a war-hammer the size of a mountain goat. His eyes glowed dimly like coal embers—ancient, watchful, and deeply weary.
Etched into the walls behind him were names of those who failed. Thousands upon thousands.
When Nova and Scarlet approached, Rokun didn't move at first. Then, in a voice as deep as bedrock, he said:
"Many enter. One path leads forward. The rest... show you what you most want to forget."
He stood slowly, each movement creaking with age and power. "To find the third path, you must confront what you buried. This cave… does not lie. You walk through the wrong door, and you'll live your worst memory — forever."
He raised a lantern made of glass and bone, its flame blue and steady.
"I am the keeper. But I do not guide. I only watch."
The echoes deepened. The ten thousand doors began to shift subtly, as if listening.
Among the ten thousand doorways, some breathed memories like smoke, and one... breathed guilt like fire.
Nova stepped toward a narrow obsidian arch, its frame etched with trembling veins of crimson light. It pulsed — like a heartbeat. Something inside it called him. He didn't mean to reach for it, not truly — but his hand moved on its own, as if guided by a memory older than will.
The moment his fingers brushed the edge, the door opened in a whisper of ash and wind.
And he was no longer in the cave.
He stood in a ruined city, buildings half-melted and streets blackened from flame. Sirens wailed somewhere far, distant and haunting. The air tasted of copper and soot. Rubble crunched beneath his boots. A warzone.
His warzone.
Gunfire echoed in the distance. His uniform was tattered, dust-covered, the insignia of his old world barely visible. Blood painted his sleeves. A single dog tag clinked against his chest.
He turned the corner — and there they were.
Elric.
Sitting cross-legged in the middle of a burned-out room, laughing, as if war had never touched him. In front of him lay a spread of battered playing cards. Two other soldiers sat beside him, shadows that once had names — Hollen and Mirael. Both had died within minutes of each other. All three were gone. All three... because of him.
"Nova!" Elric beamed. "Took you long enough, man. You still bluff like a coward?"
The smile hit like a bullet.
Nova's knees almost buckled. He stepped inside, the ghost of ash trailing behind him.
"I—" His voice cracked. "Elric… I didn't mean to open this door…"
Elric kept shuffling the cards, his fingers steady and real. Too real. "You didn't see it, right? The grenade behind you?" he said casually, almost like teasing. "You always had that tunnel vision when your heart started pumping. I knew it'd happen. But still, couldn't let you take the hit."
The shadows of Hollen and Mirael nodded silently. They didn't blame him. That made it worse.
Nova's fists clenched. "You died… because of me. All of you."
Elric looked up, eyes glowing faintly with remembrance.
"Yeah. We did."
The cards fell to the floor. Silence.
"But would I do it again?" Elric whispered, rising. "Every damn time."
He stepped forward, pressing a ghostly hand to Nova's chest. "You made it out. You saw a new world. You got a second chance. Live it, Nova. Not for us — for you. Stop carrying us like anchors. We chose to stand behind you. That's not your burden."
Nova's eyes blurred. He reached out, and for a fleeting second, Elric's hand clasped his — warm, solid.
Then the world dissolved into light.
And Nova stumbled backward through the obsidian doorway, falling to his knees in the Cave of Memory — chest heaving, jaw clenched, his shoulders quivering under the weight of grief and release.
Rokun, the cavekeeper, watched quietly from afar. "The cave shows no lies," he said solemnly. "Only what you still refuse to forgive."
Nova didn't answer.
But the pain was lighter now — not gone, but accepted.
The path beside Nova's led to a door forged from cracked rose-gold. Unlike the others, it didn't shimmer with magic — it pulsed with sorrow. It drew Scarlet close, quietly, with a familiarity that tugged at the pit of her soul.
When she laid her palm on it, it creaked open — and she was taken by wind and memory.
She stood before a towering white castle, its spires piercing the grey sky like blades. Cold wind blew, and yet there was laughter — childish, pure, echoing through the marble courtyard.
Two girls ran across the garden paths.
One was her — younger, only eight, with long crimson hair that shone like fire. The other girl had sea-green eyes, bright and brave, even though her body trembled. She was Misa.
Misa's skin was already blotched and raw — a rare disease had begun to eat her flesh, cell by cell. But she still smiled, still ran to keep up with Scarlet, even if her body screamed in pain.
"Misa, slow down!" young Scarlet called.
"You slow down!" Misa laughed, her giggle piercing the clouds.
Scarlet's eyes glistened. She remembered this.
The memory shifted.
A black carriage with Fenrir's crest rolled into the castle gates. Inside sat the young Scarlet, her formal dress stiff and her expression… blank. She was being taken away — her so-called father, King Scarfin, demanded she return to begin her "war maiden education." She hated the drills, the scolding, the void of love — but her fear of Scarfin's cold gaze paralyzed her.
On the steps stood Misa, arms outstretched. "Please! Let Scarlet stay with me! She's my friend!"
But no one listened.
Inside the carriage, the younger Scarlet looked out the window — and did nothing.
Do something, the older Scarlet whispered in anguish. Move. Open the door. Scream.
But the memory wouldn't change. It never did.
Moments later, the carriage lurched forward. Misa, still begging, stumbled—her legs too weak. The carriage wheel struck her side.
She collapsed.
Scarlet's scream echoed through the cave.
The scene froze.
And there she was now — the present Scarlet, standing inches from the small body of her best friend. She knelt beside her, tears welling and throat dry.
"I could've helped you…" she whispered. "I should have…"
Misa's voice, fragile yet clear, answered — a voice pulled from the edges of a lost memory.
"You were scared, Scarlet. I knew that. I wasn't mad."
Scarlet gasped. Misa, no longer bloody, no longer dying, stood upright in front of her — a small, flickering soul wrapped in peace.
"I wanted you to live. Not to be a weapon. I always believed you'd become someone… who protects people like me."
Scarlet's knees buckled. She wept, openly, clutching the memory of her friend.
"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"
Misa's hand, soft and glowing, touched Scarlet's cheek. "Then forgive yourself."
The world faded.
Scarlet collapsed back into the cave, breathing hard, her body trembling. She looked at her hands — trembling not in fear, but in release.
Rokun stood beside her, silent.
"You saw her, didn't you?" he asked quietly.
Scarlet didn't answer.
But her tears stopped falling.
The heavy silence that hung after Scarlet and Nova's trials was broken—
by laughter.
A booming, belly-deep laugh erupted from Rokun, the dwarf cave keeper. His beard bounced with every shake of his chest, eyes glinting with both mischief and ancient knowing.
"Hahaha! You both… you both faced what many warriors and kings never dare to! And came out stronger for it!"
Nova slowly stood, still quiet from the echo of his friend's ghost. Scarlet, beside him, wiped the last tear from her cheek, her crimson eyes glistening with calm determination.
Rokun smacked the side of a boulder behind him. "And that means—you're worthy."
The stone rumbled.
A deep, grinding roar filled the chamber as the massive boulder began to shift. Gears of old magic, etched with glowing runes, turned beneath it. Dust fell from the ceiling as the ancient mechanism revealed something buried behind its weight for centuries.
A tunnel — wide, smooth, and lined with burning blue crystals — stretched out ahead, glowing with the same energy that had guided them thus far.
"At the end of this road," Rokun said, standing tall, "lies the next trial: the Third Amendment — Will. It is the strength not of blade or spell, but of the heart. The choice to stand when your soul begs you to kneel."
Scarlet and Nova exchanged a glance — tired, scarred, but with renewed fire.
They walked forward.
The moment they stepped out of the cave's mouth, the sky greeted them.
Not the tight stone ceiling they expected, but open air and blinding sunlight. Wind howled across the open expanse as the world widened dramatically.
And before them stood—
A colosseum.
But not just any. This one… was the size of a kingdom.
Stone arches hundreds of meters high loomed in stacked tiers. Pillars carved with runes soared like mountains, each wrapped in vines and chains, as if struggling to hold the power within.
Around its vast oval form, obsidian walls stretched into the horizon, half crumbled from ancient battles. Massive statues of long-forgotten heroes stood like guardians, some shattered, others untouched.
The ground trembled beneath their feet. Inside the arena, sand swirled with streaks of glowing gold, and the wind howled through the corridors, carrying with it the echo of past screams and cheers—of warriors tested and legends born.
Above the main entrance, a great mural shimmered, depicting a person standing alone against an army, a broken sword in one hand, the other raised in defiance.
Scarlet's eyes widened. "What… is this place?"
Nova narrowed his gaze. "This is where wills are broken… or forged."
Above the massive iron gates leading into the arena, glowing letters appeared in golden flame:
"Only those who defy despair, and fight even when hope has died, may walk the path forward."
To be continued...