The obsidian steps gave way to cold ground.
There is no door, no end, just the outside and suddenly being there in a very short time.
Fog covered the path.
The air was still, as if a great gust of wind was holding back its gusts.
Sora stepped into the world through the fog.
The tower behind him groaned once and then sank like a shipwreck in the middle of the sea, stone by stone, into the endless silence, disappearing into the ground as if it had never been built but only remembered.
And there he stood.
Across the field.
The first creature from the creator of the memory world.
He has no face.
Only the horned crown and jagged roots,
and a multi-layered twilight cloak, torn by time and the wind that comes from any sky.
He didn't move.
Until Sora moved towards him.
Then he raised his hand not to say hello, but to offer something.
From the air, a weapon appeared in his hand.
Not called, not forged, but remembered.
A sword.
It was bent, like metal made from memories.
The blade was not sharp, but pulsed faintly with a dark light
as if not cutting meat, but a long-hidden truth.
The creature spoke silently.
And Sora understood without hearing.
“This sword has no name,
because whatever you name it, will have a special bond between the owner and the sword.
But you are not destined to have a bond with this sword.
You are destined to endure it.”
The sword flew towards Sora and stuck near his feet as if it was waiting for its owner to hold it.
Sora stepped forward with his hand reaching for the sword's hilt and as he touched it, the mist around him felt like it was shaking.
The pulse of the sword.
Like the heartbeat of the deepest underworld.
The sword felt light in the hand, but its purpose was limitless.
The sword did not shine.
The sword did not hum.
The sword remembers.
Behind the fog, a faint echo rippled.
Shadows of villages long since destroyed.
The whispers of the gods long since drowned.
A new path opened before him
not the path illuminated by fate,
but the path chosen by silence itself.
The creature turned around.
Its form began to fade into the mist, its task truly done to pass on the sword to its rightful owner after so long the creature had waited.
But before it disappeared, a single echo remained in the air:
"To move forward, the silent one...
You have to teach the world to listen first."
Sora's journey has begun.
Not for revenge.
Not even to conquer.
But to remember,
to witness and take it.
And in his hand was a nameless sword.
A sword that will cut more than just lies.
The sword will cut through the unspoken and silent things that the world has never woken up to before.
Night has swallowed the road.
Sora walks under a cracked sky with stars hanging like forgotten teeth and a moon that looks like it's cracked but not crumbling.
He had crossed the Thorned Pass after crossing the bridge between the Cave of Memory.
Walk through between memories and paths filled with thorns.
And he had gone three days without speaking or eating, as if only silence could sustain him.
Now, he climbed a lonely hill, its summit holding a crown of bare, tall, whispering crooked trees.
There, he knelt down.
Not for praying.
To take a breath and rest his body that had reached its limits.
Fog shrouded beneath,
hiding the world he has passed through.
Sora closed her eyes.
The fire slowly shrank, enough to produce shadows after a long time as he made a campfire before lying down against a tree as a rest.
Sora sat on the edge of a field, between a hill and a dead forest.
The wind crept through the branches like a warning whisper.
He is alone.
Or so he thought.
Then came the deliberate sound of branches breaking and the sound of heavy footsteps.
Sora didn't budge at all against that.
But his grip slowly touched the hilt of the sword that was beside him.
Then came the sound of gravel, footsteps, and women?
"Do not move."
Sora turned slowly towards the voice.
The woman stood just outside the reach of the campfire.
Tall, hooded, his hair had a hint of gold, shoes stuck in the ground and a bow in his hand.
An arrow was aimed not at his chest, but at Sora's throat.
"I asked once," he said, even though the Woman had not asked at all.
The bowstring creaked louder.
"Who are you?"
Sora didn't blink.
Don't raise his hand.
Just stare at him.
Her mouth was open...
but no sound came out.
Sora just stared at him silently and silently like a statue carved from pain.
His eyes twitched.
His jaw clenched.
“Spell? Game?”
"Say something!"
Sora didn't do it.
And the woman gasped.
WHOOSH—
The arrow hit the ground a few inches from his right leg.
Leaves were flying around him.
Sora didn't move at all even though the woman had shot her arrow.
Even he didn't flinch at her threats.
There was no breath that indicated concern.
Just silence.
The woman's breath became irregular when she saw Sora's reaction.
The second arrow was nocked and pointed again at Sora.
Not to his chest or throat this time, but right to his head.
“You think you can trick me?!”
“You walk like a ghost but breathe like a human!”
He stepped closer, crossing the light of the campfire.
Now the woman's face is more clearly visible.
half-shadowed, with a scar on his left cheek.
His blue eyes were unblinking, he glared at Sora.
But the light of the fire also revealed Sora's face.
Young. Tired. Fearless.
And in his brown eyes there was no resistance, no pleading.
Only silence reflects his.
There is no hatred.
There is no judgment.
Just a reflection of the fatigue that he thought he was the only one who had to bear it.
The woman's arm lowered, slowly.
His voice softened, unsure.
"...You really can't talk."
Sora let out a breath of confirmation to explain to him.
He looked away.
Shaking his head.
Maybe embarrassed.
Then, the woman said again.
"This world turns voices into corpses. Maybe your voice is the first thing it steals."
There was a moment of silence as the woman waited for an answer from Sora.
Then... Sora stretched out his hand towards him.
The open palms indicate friendship between him and the woman.
The woman looked at him.
Confusion mixed with remembrance in her expression.
In the end, with his voice low like the wind.
"You're either an idiot... or the only sane person left."
The woman stepped forward slowly.
Her fingers touched Sora's fingers.
There is no trust exchanged.
Only the first thread of an understanding has yet to be woven.
"My name is Kaelith," she murmured.
"You don't have to tell me yours. Silence has a name too."
Kaelith turned away from Sora.
"Come on. If you want to go to the ruins of the Borreal kingdom...
I will walk in your shadow for a while."
Sora stood up from his seat.
The arrow was still lying near his feet.
Together, they walked through the night.
A nameless sword at his side.
Kaelith was behind, her eyes on the trees but also on him.
The path ahead leads to a forgotten kingdom.
However, the real journey has just begun.
The moon cast a pale light over the treetops.
Kaelith walked in front of him, her eyes always observing.
Sora followed behind him, silent as usual, her steps full of consideration.
But then—
GrrrrrrRRRRMM.
An unknown voice echoed awkwardly in the night air.
Making Kaelith freeze.
Quickly grabbing his bow in the middle of the road.
And Sora stopped in his tracks when he saw her reaction.
The voice was heard again.
GrmmMMrrrrkkk.
Not from the forest.
but that's from him.
Kaelith blinked once.
“…Is that your stomach?”
Sora looked away and didn't move.
But shame hung on his shoulders like a cloak heavier than the one he wore.
Kaelith sighed.
Pulling back the hood.
“Oh my God… How long has it been since you ate?”
Sora didn't answer because he couldn't.
But the look in his eyes was enough to answer her question.
Sora gave him the three finger sign.
Three days? Or maybe more?
Kaelith's hand moved to her belt pouch, there was nothing but a knife, some of the medicine she had, and a broken flint.
"I'm sick of this."
She looked out at the rows of forest trees.
"Okay. I'll find something for us to eat tonight. You go find a place to rest."
But Sora shook his head.
He stepped forward.
"You're not the only ghost with a bow, I see," she muttered.
But Sora insisted on following her from behind.
"Alright. Be quiet, follow closely."
They stalk the forest like shadows.
The branches barely rustled beneath their steps.
Kaelith moved with the grace of someone who had stayed too long in the forest.
Sora watched and studied it.
Then there was a rustling sound ahead.
A gray horned boar, its snout deep in the roots of a dying oak tree.
Its tusks were as long as Kaelith's forearm. Its eyes were cloudy, angry with hunger.
Kaelith tried to steady her bow, her lips parted.
But before she could let go—
WHOOSH!
A second wild boar charged from the bushes, darting straight at Sora and making the first wild boar they encountered just run away.
No time to warn.
No time to call.
Kaelith spun in mid-pull
Thwip—
An arrow hit the charging beast but the boar's movement could not be stopped.
It was a huge beast, thirsty for prey, and wild.
Sora couldn't reach his sword, he dropped it a bit far away from him and made him fall because the beast's movements were unpredictable.
Kaelith let out an involuntary cry, the first he had heard from her that wasn't bitter or stifled.
"Behind you!"
The injured boar twisted around, grunting, saliva and blood dripping from its mouth.
Sora's eyes stared at him.
And slowly, he stood up and drew his sword towards the boar.
The moonlight flickered across the metal.
The sword gleamed, as silent as he was.
The boar attacked Sora again.
Sora waited and just waited for the right time to attack him.
Still waiting for that beast to get close to his attack range.
Then he moved.
Not with great power but with high focus.
The sword seemed to sing in the night air.
A clean curve to his slash.
The beast fell in the midst of the charge, sliding over the leaves with a final blow, and ending with a shuddering gasp to meet its death.
The forest was silent again.
Sora tried to stand up once again after blood splattered on his arm.
Kaelith approached, her bow lowered.
"You really don't talk."
Sora didn't answer.
Just staring at the fallen creature.
Kaelith took out her hunting knife, kneeling beside the boar's still body.
“Okay. I’ll cook. You light the fire. Sound good?”
Sora blinked once with a faint nod.
As she handled the meat with practiced hands, her voice softened.
“You move like someone who has died before.”
She looked up at her.
“Not many can withstand such hunger and still have the energy to think.”
Sora placed the stones in a circle.
The bonfire was lit soon after.
Then, near the crackle of the campfire and the smell of roasting meat, Kaelith sat across from him.
“This world preys on the weak.”
She tore off a piece of cooked meat and gave it to him.
“But you… you don’t look weak. It’s just not over yet.”
He took the food with both hands carefully and gratefully.
They didn't speak after that.
Just sharing fire.
A bow and a sword.
Two ghosts at the end of a world they don't know about.
Dawn will take them to the kingdom of Borreal.
But tonight, they remembered what it was like to survive.