Lucien followed her in silence, their footsteps echoing against the old cobblestones, worn smooth by time. As they ventured deeper into Khadir's Reach, small changes caught his eye—an altered door frame, a building that hadn't been there the last time they visited, and statues standing like ghostly placeholders, lacking detail or vibrancy.
Cryxie paused at the edge of the plaza where the old war board used to be, a significant spot that carried heavy memories. "I haven't been back here since…" Her voice trailed off, the weight of unspoken memories hanging in the air.
"I know," Lucien replied, understanding the gravity of the moment.
They stood before the marble obelisk, which had once been a monument to the top PvP guilds but was now a relic of past glory. The obelisk had been taken down years ago after the Bloodscrip Revolt, a scandal that shook the community. But it was back now, as if resurrected—pristine yet disturbing.
The names etched on it sent a chill through Lucien: SABLE VOW, ASH CULT, GODSTUNG, THESONS, and EURYDICE. Cryxie's gaze was fixated on the last name, her eyes wide with disbelief. "I swear to God, Lucien… that wasn't real. That name—it was never on the server."
He took a step closer, uncertain of the implications. "What if the server doesn't care what was real?"
She turned to him sharply, frustration in her eyes. "Don't get poetic on me. You left poetry behind with the rest of us."
Then came the sound—sharp and jarring, like glass shattering in a grand hall. The war board fractured in the middle, and a line of distorted chat messages began to scroll upward, as if pulled from forgotten channels—whispers of the past.
[BlackRift]: "He knew. He knew and didn't warn us."
[ArkenVale]: "Grim, what the hell is this?"
[Cryxie]: "Lucien—say it. Just say you did it."
Lucien froze, a wave of panic washing over him. "I never—"
"I remember," she interjected quietly, the hurt palpable in her voice. "You didn't say anything."
Faster now, the messages scrolled, and Lucien instinctively backed away, his hands clenching into fists. The chat log felt like a weapon aimed directly at him.
And then, as if conjured from the depths of his memories, stood ArkenVale—fully armored and wielding a two-handed axe. His old guildmate was rendered in detail, but his face… it was a hollow void, just skin-colored static—a chilling representation of something lost.
ArkenVale remained silent, the axe raised menacingly.
"That's not him," Cryxie declared, drawing her daggers.
Lucien shook his head, dread filling him. "No… it is. Or what's left of him."
The ghost lunged forward without warning, combat initiated. There was no shift into battle mode—just raw chaos. Lucien parried the first strike perfectly, yet the attack didn't seem to affect the ghost; it pressed on relentlessly, unyielding and unnatural.
Cryxie attempted to flank it, darting in with her speed and slicing attacks, but the ghost showed no signs of injury.
Desperately, Lucien pressed the key for a taunt, only to be met with a stark message in the middle of the clash: YOU MAY NOT REWRITE HISTORY.
The ghost halted, a moment of stillness hanging between them. Then, in a voice that was not ArkenVale's but eerily his own, came the cold words: "You knew it was a trap."
Lucien staggered, a wave of memories crashing down on him.
In that fleeting instant, Cryxie managed to stab the ghost in the back, causing it to erupt into glitching shards, scattering in the air like ashes. No loot. No experience points. Just a stark reminder burned into the atmosphere: 1/112 GHOSTS RESURFACED.
The dead remember what you don't.
The light around them seemed to dim slightly. Cryxie stepped back, her chest rising and falling—not from exertion but perhaps from something deeper: grief, maybe, or regret.
Lucien remained silent, processing the moment.
Meeting his gaze, she said firmly, "You can't just walk through this world like nothing happened, Lucien. It remembers."
But he had no words.
Behind them, the war board restored itself, as if mocking the events that had just unfolded, except for a line of static that streaked through the name "SABLE VOW."
Without warning, a child NPC reappeared on the stairs above, standing still, her head upright. She regarded them both and spoke softly, "Two souls cannot exit the underworld unless they walk forward together."
Then, just as quickly, she vanished.
Cryxie remained frozen, caught in a web of lingering emotions.
Lucien broke the silence, whispering, "We keep walking."