Aaren stood before the smoldering gates of Zaerion's shrine, the Witherflame mark still searing on his chest.
But something had changed.
The Downer Chamber no longer felt like a place of death and isolation—it was now alive with ancient echoes, drifting souls, and hidden power. The sky boiled with dark flame-colored clouds, and distant creatures soared on wings shaped like bone and smoke.
He took his first real steps beyond the shrine.
The land stretched endlessly, a shattered landscape with floating islands, cursed rivers, and vast canyons of obsidian glass. And scattered among them, cities—not abandoned ruins, but real cities, humming with life.
He had thought he was alone.
He was wrong.
---
The Outlaws of Lorian Hollow
After hours of traversing winding cliffs, Aaren came upon a hidden outpost carved into the side of a collapsed mountain. Strange symbols burned faintly in the stone, and masked figures guarded the entrance—armor made of stitched shadows and bone fragments.
"Another soul wanders in," one of them muttered.
Before Aaren could speak, a spear was at his throat.
(Guard)"Name. Purpose. Power."
He gripped the hilt of the Descent Sword.
But a voice cut through.
[Unknown]"Let him speak."
A woman stepped forward—tall, ash-gray skin, short silver hair, one arm entirely mechanical, powered by glowing veins.
"I'm Velka, leader of Lorian Hollow," she said. "And you're not from here, are you?"
Aaren hesitated. Then nodded. "I came for power. Now I need direction."
Velka stared at him for a long time, then pointed to a cracked stone seat beside her.
They talked. She told him of the Chambers—the fractured world formed after the Heavenfall War, where ancient gods and kings destroyed the unity of dimensions.
[Velka] The Downer Chamber, prison of power and despair.
The Upper Chamber, seat of elite rulers and corrupted peace.
The Middle Chamber, lost… and silent.
"You'll be hunted if they find you up there," Velka said. "No one comes from below unless they're carrying something dangerous."
He didn't respond. He already knew that.
Velka sighed. "There's a way up. But you'll need a disguise—and an anchor."
"Anchor?" Aaren asked.
"A person. A guide. Someone who knows the systems. Otherwise, you'll fall. Spiritually. Mentally. Even physically."
---
The Ascent
Using the Portal Knife, Aaren drew the rune of ascent—sharp curves, etched in flame. The circle pulsed beneath his feet.
Velka gave him a device: a thin black ring that cloaked aura signatures.
"Use this," she said, slipping it onto his finger. "It will mask the Witherflame. But be warned—if your anger flares, your flame will too."
Aaren nodded. And vanished in light.
---
The Upper Chamber
It was… beautiful.
White towers scraped the skies. Skyships hovered above crystalline oceans. The air smelled of lavender and clean lightning. People walked in flowing robes, speaking in strange accents, many with floating orbs following behind them like sentient assistants.
But beneath the elegance, Aaren felt something wrong.
Everything was too perfect.
And perfection was always a mask.
He moved through the city of Elios Prime, his features slightly altered by the ring. His eyes no longer burned violet; his presence no longer screamed chaos.
Still, suspicion followed him.
He needed help.
---
A New Companion
He met her in a place called the Silver Exchange—a market for rare artifacts. A silver-eyed girl with a braided ponytail, worn boots, and a blade on her hip that shimmered like moonlight.
She caught him staring at a floating orb of compressed void energy.
"You don't belong here," she said coldly.
Aaren turned. "Neither do you."
They stared.
"I'm Lenara," she said after a moment. "Tracker. Relic smuggler. And you… you're pretending."
"I need guidance," Aaren replied.
She scoffed. "You and everyone else who gets thrown from the edge."
"I wasn't thrown," he said. "I climbed."And what Do you mean by thrown this is the upper chamber.
That got her attention.
[Lenara]mm..This world is a total Mystery you will know if you try.
After a long pause, she said, "Prove you're not a liability. Then we'll talk."
---
The Test
Lenara led him through the underlayers of Elios Prime, into its sewer-like veins called the Drain Paths—areas where rogue experiments were dumped and forgotten.
She threw a blade at his feet.
"No WitherflameNo your super cool levitin ok," she said. "You fight with steel only."
Aaren picked it up. "Deal."
From the shadows emerged a writhing creature—formed from failed transmutations, eyes like shattered stars, limbs twisting like liquid.
Aaren fought without powers.
Dodging.
Rolling.
Bleeding.
Then stabbing.
When it finally collapsed, Aaren's hand trembled—but he stood tall.
Lenara crossed her arms.
"Alright," she said. "Maybe you're worth my time."
---
Whispers in the Clouds
Later, as they walked the skybridge between floating towers, Lynara spoke.
"There's something happening here. Rumors of the King's Heir returning. Something about a flame that burns backwards through time."
Aaren flinched.
She noticed.
"You know something?"
"No," he lied. "Just tired."
But he knew.
They were talking about him.
The prophecy he never asked to be part of.
And from high above the clouds, something watched. A single, burning red eye opened in the sky for a second—then vanished.