The mountain loomed like a sleeping god.
Nestled among jagged cliffs and cold winds, the cave where Ael had first awakened in this life had remained untouched, forgotten by time and men alike. No paths led here. No maps marked its presence. Only memory—his memory—guided them to its mouth, where the stone yawned open like a wound in the world.
This was not a battlefield.
Not a shrine.
Not even a prison.
This was where everything began.
And where it would end.
—
"This is it," Ael said, standing at the threshold.
Lyra looked over his shoulder. "There's nothing magical here. No wards. No presence. It feels… quiet."
"Too quiet," Elric muttered.
"No," Ael replied. "It's right. This place was never meant to keep others out. Only me."
He turned to them.
"I go alone."
Neither argued.
They knew, somehow, that this path could only be walked by the one who had broken.
And now sought to become whole.
—
Inside the cave, there was no light.
Ael walked deeper, the stone walls closing in around him like ribs of some ancient beast. His footsteps echoed softly. And with each step, he felt a piece of himself peel away—his strength, his control, even his fear.
Until at last, he reached the heart.
A hollow chamber.
Still.
And there, sitting in the center of the cavern, was himself.
Or rather—the man he had been when he first awoke in this world.
The emotionless king.
Clad in black, eyes blank, posture perfect.
The man who had known no love, no hope, no guilt.
The man without a soul.
"You came back," the old Ael said flatly.
"I had to."
"Why?"
Ael stepped forward.
"To finish what I began."
The old Ael stood, mirroring every movement.
"You were perfect," he said. "Unshaken. Efficient. Feared."
"I was hollow," the real Ael replied.
"You were a king. Now look at you. Weak. Clouded. Slowed by guilt, love, mercy. You gave up your throne for what? For feelings?"
"For meaning," Ael said calmly.
The old Ael drew a sword.
"You cannot be both a man and a weapon."
"Then I choose to be neither."
—
The cave trembled.
Stone cracked.
And suddenly, Ael was standing in a battlefield made of memory—an endless plain where every enemy he had ever slain rose from the shadows.
But this time, he didn't fight.
He walked through them.
They didn't touch him.
Because they were not enemies anymore.
They were echoes.
At the center of this illusion, the old Ael stood alone, sword raised.
"Without me, you're nothing."
Ael met him eye to eye.
"I am nothing with you."
And he embraced him.
Not in violence.
But in acceptance.
The illusion shattered.
The cave was whole again.
And in the center of it—
Lay the final shard.
It pulsed softly, no longer guarded, no longer hidden.
It had always been inside him.
Waiting to be acknowledged.
The shard of self.
Ael knelt.
And for the final time…
Let it enter his soul.
—
The world shifted.
Not in thunder or storm, but in stillness.
He felt no surge of power.
No divine light.
Only…
Peace.
For the first time in both his lives, Ael was whole.
All seven shards—emotion, hope, longing, remorse, trust, faith, and self—rested within him now.
And yet, he knew:
This was not the end.
It was only the beginning.
—
He emerged from the cave as the sun rose over the mountains.
Lyra and Elric stood waiting.
They saw it in his eyes.
He was still Ael.
But no longer broken.
No longer ruled by the ghost of the king he had been.
"What now?" Elric asked.
Ael looked out across the world.
And smiled.
"Now, we begin."