Deep within the eerie silence that engulfed the ruins of "Helgrad"—a city erased from the kingdoms' records centuries ago—a cold breeze whispered as if carrying echoes from a forgotten era. Shao stood before the colossal stone gate, its edges crumbling with time, studying the carved symbols in a legendary language that no one could read anymore—except for those who bore an unusual bloodline… like his.
The air was thick with the scent of ancient ashes, and the dim northern sun barely pierced through the heavy clouds. Beside him, Astyr watched cautiously. She placed her hand on her blade and spoke in a hushed voice:
"Are you certain this is the place where the last trace of your blood appeared?"
Shao nodded slowly. "This is where the first curse began... and here we will find the answer."
He stepped forward into the abandoned city, each footfall echoing against crumbling walls that bore witness to long-forgotten massacres. Astyr recalled Shao's words from the previous night—that this city was once home to the first lineage of those with mixed blood—those who carried the curses of giants and the purity of humans.
Suddenly, Shao halted before a dust-covered stone tablet. He reached out and wiped it slowly, revealing glowing symbols in a deep crimson hue. For a moment, Astyr felt the air grow heavier, as if an unseen force had wrapped around them.
"It's trembling..." Astyr murmured.
Shao stared at the symbols. "It's not trembling. It's calling."
A pale apparition emerged before them, taking the form of a man clad in ancient armor. His face was obscured by a helmet inscribed with Nordic script: "Sigvald."
The spectral figure advanced slowly, his dim eyes locking onto Shao. In a hollow voice, as if speaking from an open grave, he uttered:
"O heir of the ancient blood, you have returned to the cradle of betrayal."
"The Cradle of Betrayal?" Shao whispered as the air around him grew colder and the shadows of the abandoned ruins thickened.
Astyr took half a step forward, resting her hand on her sword.
"Who are you? A specter, a ghost? Or just an old trap?"
But the apparition paid her no heed, keeping its gaze locked on Shao as if reading his thoughts—or awakening something buried deep within him.
"Sigvald…" Shao murmured, as though the name had surfaced from a memory that wasn't entirely his own, but rather his blood's. It was etched into his bones, intertwined with fear, glory, and treachery.
The specter spoke again, its voice deeper, reverberating through every stone around them:
"I am the First Guardian, the Last Fallen. I was once the leader of the Protectors, until we betrayed the Chosen King, and he unsealed the Gate of Blood with his own hands. One act of treachery… and our city was erased from beneath the sky."
Astyr felt the ruins around them begin to breathe, as though the walls had awakened from their slumber and something older than time itself was watching them.
Shao spoke in a hushed tone.
"I don't remember any of this… but I feel it, as if I was there."
The apparition nodded. "That's because you were, Bearer of the Fourth Blood. In a previous cycle… in a life older than this one."
Astyr furrowed her brows at Shao.
"You believe in this? Ancient incarnations? Past lives?"
Shao didn't answer. He was staring at the glowing symbol before him, and at Sigvald's spectral eyes.
"If this is a second life… what am I summoned for this time?" Shao asked.
Sigvald's tone carried the weight of regret.
"To finish what you started. To correct your sin… or to reopen the gate to chaos."
Then, the apparition raised its hand, and before them, a crimson dagger materialized, pulsating with an eerie glow. Etched into its blade were the words: Seal of Memory.
"Take it, but beware… with every memory you reclaim, you will lose a part of who you are now."
Shao hesitated, then slowly reached for the dagger. The moment his fingers wrapped around its hilt, the ground beneath him trembled, and something foreign coursed through his veins—as though long-sealed doors within him were beginning to open.
As Shao grasped the dagger, his heartbeat quickened suddenly, as if his heart had been replaced by an ancient machine devoid of mercy. Blinding flashes surged through his mind—memories that did not belong to him, but to a man who bore his likeness, clad in black armor, striding through the towering pillars of a crimson throne hall, its walls ablaze with the fires of treachery.
He cried out and released the dagger for a brief moment, but the specter's voice thundered:
"Hold onto it! Knowledge comes at the price of pain!"
Astyr stepped forward, placing a steadying hand on Shao's shoulder as a torrent of memories overwhelmed him—blood, screams, and the fallen Brotherhood of Protectors… under his command.
"You were the one who unsealed the gate!" Astyr shouted, having seen the scene reflected in Shao's eyes without needing an explanation.
Shao collapsed to his knees, panting, sweat dripping from his brow. He could no longer deny the truth. Within him… lay a past older than his present life, tainted with sin.
But the specter continued, its voice calm yet commanding:
"What you saw is not the whole truth. You betrayed… but you were not alone. Someone led you to it. Another man… closer to you than blood, and far more monstrous than an enemy."
"Who?" Shao murmured, lifting his gaze.
Yet the apparition had begun to fade, its voice echoing slowly:
"You will know… when you cross the ruins of the Drowned Sovereign. There, the truth slumbers in its iron tomb."
Before vanishing entirely, the specter gestured toward a black stone on the ground behind him, inscribed with ancient script:
"The Blood Pact can only be broken with two deaths."
Shao stepped toward the stone, his heart burdened by what he had seen—and what he had yet to understand. Astyr, though shaken, followed him in silence.
There was no turning back now.
As the first strands of light emerged, Astyr and Shao stood before the black stone, the visions carved deep within them, leaving an indelible mark. Silence reigned, as if the very earth held its breath before the truths unveiled from the past.
"Did I… truly betray them?" Astyr asked hesitantly, though she knew the answer lay within his eyes.
Shao did not respond immediately. He glanced at the hand that had touched the dagger, as if remnants of those memories were still imprinted on his skin. Finally, in a quiet voice, he said:
"Perhaps it wasn't me… but it is a part of me now. And I will pay the price."
Astyr stepped forward, her gaze fixed upon the ancient stone.
"The specter spoke of a man… someone closer than blood. Maybe he holds the key to understanding everything."
"Or maybe… he is the one who must die," Shao murmured, the ember in his heart burning fiercely.
There was no time for hesitation. The specter had vanished, but the signs were clear. The Ruins of the Drowned Sovereign… their next destination.
As they departed the chamber, they passed rows of shattered statues—some depicting kings, others faceless, nameless. As if they represented men lost to oblivion… and perhaps, among them, the one who had betrayed Shao's former self.
While walking through the narrow passage leading outside, Astyr suddenly halted.
"You feel it, don't you? The Blood Curse."
Shao nodded, without looking at her.
"It grows heavier… the closer we get to the truth."
"When we reach the ruins… will you be ready?" Astyr whispered.
Shao smiled faintly, a smile laced with pain.
"I no longer seek survival… only redemption."
And with that, they disappeared beyond the crumbling gate, onto a path with no known end, where shadows guided them toward an inevitable fate.
In the depths of the Black Forest, where the sun never reaches and no footsteps have touched the ground for centuries, the ruins of the "Drowned Sovereign" seemed to exhale whispers from an ancient past. Broken columns and abandoned altars bore witness to an era long lost—an era stained with blood and betrayal.
Shao and Astyr arrived, their breath dissipating into the frigid air, as if the forest itself rejected them. The ground pulsed with dark magical energy, and the air was thick, carrying the echoes of restless spirits.
"I can feel it…" Astyr murmured, clutching her pendant tightly. "A presence… watching us."
Shao stepped closer to the heart of the ruins, where a stone-carved circle still flickered with a faint crimson glow. As he touched it, a voice arose—a whisper from deep beneath the earth.
"The seal… must close… before it devours the light."
Astyr suddenly gasped, wiping her trembling hands over her eyes. "I saw… I saw his face! The man who was stabbed from behind! And he looks like you… Shao!"
But Shao stood in stunned silence. In the reflection of the flickering light, he glimpsed a face—not his own, but another man, eerily identical, his eyes dim, his chest torn apart by a dagger he recognized all too well. It was Cyril—the man for whom everything had been lost.
"You are not merely an heir to ancient blood, Shao…" Astyr said, her voice unsteady. "You are an echo of a memory that was never erased… a fragment of a destiny unfinished."
"And a curse unbroken," Shao added, his heart burning as never before.
A distant explosion shattered the silence. The ground trembled, and cracks spread through the ancient ruins. From beneath the rubble, a hand emerged, followed by a shoulder, then a face—not human, but a creature scarred by time itself, its body wrapped in molten wounds, its eyes holding the darkness of centuries.
"It has begun," Shao said, unsheathing his sword.
Astyr did not speak. She drew her glowing dagger and steadied herself. Between what Shao saw and what Astyr had witnessed, the connection was unmistakable…
The past was not dead… It was waiting to return.
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