THE CORE OF THE SEALED MEMORIES AND THE FLAMES THAT DO NOT BELONG TO THIS WORLD (Part 3)
The door opened as if time itself hesitated to allow it. It wasn't a physical sound that filled the chamber, but an echo that vibrated in the soul of everyone present—a deep resonance reminding them they had crossed a threshold with no possibility of return.
Zyrion stood before the door, his eyes still half open, emitting a violent flicker of white light. The hidden fragment pulsed inside him like a second heart. Each beat felt like a hammer striking the fabric of reality.
Ysmera, sweating from the strain of keeping the seal active, raised her voice with difficulty:
"Zyrion… don't advance yet. That door was not made for mortals."
Maerisse held her shoulder firmly as their combined magic pulsed in synchrony. The triangle of runes surrounding Zyrion trembled with a shimmering blue glow.
"It's not just a physical threshold," Maerisse said, her voice trembling but steady. "It's a trial. A promise sealed by a pact far older than the history of Kyrethron. If he enters… he may not return as the same person."
Cilera, kneeling on the floor with bloodied hands from magical strain, murmured:
"That door wasn't made for the body. It was made for the soul. Only someone who has touched the original core of the crystal can open it without being reduced to ash."
Zyrion heard them… but he couldn't stop.
The Zykrath Nolthem—still scattered across the room—did not attack. They were kneeling. Silent. As if the opening of the door had snuffed them out completely. The black fire that once animated them was now nothing more than a fading shadow.
Taliena approached him. Her voice was a broken whisper, as if speaking might shatter him:
"Zyrion… look at me. Please, look at me."
He slowly turned his face toward her. His white gaze had no pupils, yet Taliena knew he was seeing something deep within himself. Something that hurt. Something he could not explain.
"Do you hear it too?" Zyrion asked softly. "That voice that doesn't shout… but burns. That feeling that something is waiting for me… behind all this."
Taliena swallowed hard and nodded.
"Yes… but you're not alone. If you go in, I'll go with you."
Zyrion shook his head gently.
"No. This part is mine. And mine alone."
"And what if you don't come back?" she whispered, her lips trembling.
Zyrion hesitated for a moment. Then he reached out and took her hand.
"Then… remember me. Not for what I was. But for what I chose to be, even knowing I could lose everything."
Emotion burst in Taliena's eyes, and for a moment she seemed about to embrace him—but she only intertwined her fingers with his, softly.
"Zyrion… if you return, tell me. If not… scream in my dreams. Scream loud. I'll find you."
He nodded once, let go, stepped toward the door…
…and vanished.
But it wasn't a physical disappearance.
His body dissolved into thousands of particles of white light. A suspended rain drifting beyond the threshold. No one could follow. No one could speak. Only the echo of the portal closing slowly behind him, like a held breath finally exhaled.
Kyrahna wiped the blood from her sword, her eyes fixed on the void Zyrion had left behind.
"What lies beyond?" she asked without turning.
Ryvak, still panting from the battle, knelt where Zyrion had stood.
"I don't know… but it's calling him by name. Not the one we know. An older one."
Ezhalra touched the floor with her fingers, closing her eyes, trying to sense something. But she frowned.
"Neither the black fire… nor the white flame surrounding the portal… are ordinary flames. They're… like layers of memory. Fragments of something that should never have been divided."
Maerisse concluded:
"Zyrion isn't walking into a place… he's entering a memory. But not his own. One that chose him."
Zyrion floated.
He did not walk. He did not breathe. But he existed.
The world was a white abyss. No ground, no sky. Only an endless plain of luminous mist. Each step felt like moving the soul through forgetfulness.
And then… voices.
Thousands of voices.
"Is it you?"
"Have you finally returned?"
"No… this is not Kyrethron…"
"…But the blood is the same."
"Zyrion…"
A figure emerged.
Not physical. A silhouette made entirely of pure white fire, suspended in the center of the abyss. It had no defined eyes, yet somehow they pierced through him.
"Do you know who I am?" the figure asked.
Zyrion shook his head, though he felt he did know.
"No. But I've dreamed of you."
"It is not a dream," the being replied. "It is a memory you carried without knowing. I was the first fragment. The Core."
Zyrion's lips parted—no words came.
"The first…?"
"Yes," the being interrupted. "Before the crystal shattered. Before Calessia and Umbraek destroyed it in their war. Before the fragments existed… there was only one. And I was its guardian."
Zyrion stepped closer, his voice trembling.
"Why me?"
The figure lowered its head and—for an instant—seemed more human. More sorrowful.
"Because you were the crystal's final will before breaking. Not a fragment… but its being. Its wound. That is why no one knows the power you carry. Because you are not a bearer. You are the fracture itself."
A chill ran down Zyrion's spine. Something inside him clicked into place.
"Then… if I gather the fragments…?"
"…the crystal will heal. But you… will cease to exist."
Zyrion did not answer.
"Are you willing?" the figure asked.
And then… Zyrion saw something. A vision.
Taliena holding her sword in darkness.Karion fighting a shadow within himself.Naerys surrounded by fire and ice.Calessia crying before a tomb that did not yet exist.
And finally… he saw himself.
Alone.
But smiling.
Zyrion took a deep breath—or whatever passed for breath here.
And said:
"Yes."
The figure extended a hand.
"Then accept your true title, Zyrion of the White Eyes.Bearer of the Unknown Fragment.Guardian of the ALL.Son of the Core.Creator of the Final Flame."
And with that name engraved into his soul, the white world shattered.
And Zyrion awakened…
…at the center of the Core.
Surrounded by white flames.
And the others… were watching him.
He had returned.
But something in his eyes… was no longer the same.
The air in the Core chamber pulsed with dense, vibrant energy. The white flames encircling Zyrion danced with unnatural intensity, as if responding to a will of their own.
Zyrion opened his eyes—now glowing with pure white light—and looked over his companions.
"I've seen… fragments of what we were, and what we might become," he said, calm but firm. "The Core showed me hidden truths… but also shadows waiting to strike."
Taliena stepped forward, concern mixed with determination on her face.
"What exactly did you see, Zyrion? What's coming?"
Zyrion met her gaze. For an instant, doubt sparkled in his expression.
"Not everything is clear. There are forces at play I still don't fully understand. But I know we must prepare."
A tremor shook the chamber.The walls vibrated.A crack opened in the floor, releasing thick, dark smoke.
From within it, a hooded figure emerged—shrouded in shadows that devoured the surrounding light.
"The awakening has begun," the figure said, its voice resonating inside everyone's mind. "The balance has been broken, and the true bearer has been marked."
Kyrahna lifted her sword, ready to strike.
"Who are you? What do you want?"
The figure chuckled softly.
"I am neither enemy nor ally. Only a messenger of what is to come. The true bond with the crystal has been altered. Someone interfered, changing the path of fate."
Zyrion frowned.
"Altered? What does that mean?"
The figure slowly dissolved into smoke, leaving one final warning:
"Time will reveal the answers. But beware… not everything is what it seems."
Silence settled over the chamber.The group exchanged glances, aware that a new threat loomed—one that would test not only their strength… but their trust in one another.
TO BE CONTINUED…