Kaelen stood before the throne.

His past self—clad in silver armor, crowned, watching with hollow eyes—waited. The air in the vast chamber was still, as if even time had paused, watching his next move.

The weight of knowledge pressed down on him.

This was the throne he had once ruled from.
This was the burden he had once carried.
And this was the power he had once forsaken.

The echoes of the memory still burned in his mind. The war. The promise. Seris’ voice whispering, You swore to protect it.

The artifact had never been a prize to be claimed. It had always been his responsibility. And somehow, through time, through sacrifice, through whatever magic had sealed away his past—he had forgotten.

Until now.

Kaelen clenched his fists. His pulse thundered in his ears.

If he sat upon that throne, he would become who he once was.
If he walked away, he would remain who he had become.

His choice felt like a blade resting against his throat.

The Other Kaelen—the guide, the reflection, the ghost of himself that had led him this far—watched silently. He offered no counsel. No warnings.

Because the choice had to be Kaelen’s alone.

His breath shuddered.

One step.

Two.

He reached out.

And the moment his fingertips brushed the armrest of the throne—

The world shattered.

Between the Veil

Kaelen was ripped away.

His vision blurred. His body felt weightless. A force unlike anything he had ever known pulled him forward, inward, deeper.

Falling.
Falling.
Falling.

No, not falling—being dragged.

The throne room vanished, replaced by swirling void.

Not darkness. Not light. Something between.

A great veil, thin as silk, vast as the sky. It stretched endlessly, shifting in color—deep blues, shimmering golds, flickering shades of violet and black.

Kaelen reached out. His fingers met the veil’s surface, and the moment he touched it—

It split.

A thousand images rushed past him. Fragments of time, echoes of lives, memories not just his own but countless others.

And then, at the very center of it all—

The artifact.

It floated in the void, glowing with the same ancient golden light, pulsing like a heartbeat.

Kaelen felt it call to him.

And he understood.

The throne had never been the choice. The artifact was.

It had never been about ruling. It had always been about holding the balance.

His past self had sealed the artifact away—not to lock away its power, but to lock himself away from it.

Because he had been its wielder. Its guardian.

And the moment he had forsaken it, the moment he had chosen to forget—the world had begun to crumble.

Now, time had forced his hand.

The seal was breaking.

The veil was thinning.

And the artifact—it was waiting.

Waiting for him to make the choice.

Kaelen reached for it.

The moment his fingers brushed its golden surface, the void collapsed.

The Return

Kaelen gasped, air slamming into his lungs as he snapped back into reality.

He was no longer in the throne room. No longer in the void.

He was—

On solid ground.

The stone beneath him was familiar—the ruins.

He turned sharply. Shadows flickered. Fire crackled in the distance. The air smelled of damp earth and magic.

He was back.

Back where he had started.

“Elira?” His voice was hoarse, raw. “Orin? Dain?”

No answer.

Then—movement.

He spun, sword in hand, heart hammering. And from the darkness—

A figure emerged.

Seris.

She was exactly as he had seen her in the memory—dark robes, silver eyes, her expression sharp, unreadable.

Kaelen’s breath caught.

She had been real. She was real.

He took a step toward her. “Seris, I—”

She raised her hand.

A force slammed into his chest, knocking the breath from his lungs, sending him skidding back.

Kaelen barely caught himself before hitting the ground.

“Seris, wait—”

Her eyes burned with something cold, something dangerous.

“Where is it?” she demanded.

Kaelen blinked. “What?”

“The artifact.” Her voice was sharp as steel. “You took it, didn’t you?”

His pulse pounded. “Seris, I—”

“You don’t understand.” Her voice dropped lower, almost a whisper. “You’ve doomed us all.”

Kaelen froze.

The shadows around them thickened. The sky, once streaked with stars, darkened into something unnatural.

And from the horizon—a shape began to rise.

A great, twisting mass of darkness, roiling like a storm, growing larger, breathing.

Kaelen’s chest tightened.

He knew that presence.

It was what had been locked away.

It was what the artifact had been holding back.

And now—he had set it free.

To be continued...