Chapter 31: Wings of the Forgotten
Ravi leaned forward, resting his arms on the black table, locking eyes with Reydon.
"Grandfather," he said dryly. "Do you mind if I ask a few questions?"
Reydon's smile softened, shifting into a calm seriousness. A silence settled between them before he spoke.
"You must have much on your mind. And rightly so — you're the first to reach this domain." His tone held a strange blend of being proud and warning. "Before your questions, there are a few things I need to tell you."
Ravi didn't interrupt. His gaze remained steady as Reydon continued.
"In my time, I made powerful enemies — the kind who preferred to scheme in shadows rather than confront me openly. Most feared even coming in front of me. But one … he was different. A persistent thorn I could never quite remove."
Reydon's eyes darkened, his voice lowering slightly. "In our final battle, I stopped him and erased him from existence from this world — but unable to stop his plan. He unleashed a ritual before dying. A ritual that shattered his essence and scattered fragments of himself into the future."
He leaned forward, voice tight with restrained urgency. "He was called the Monarch of Time."
Ravi's breath caught. "You mean ... he's still alive?"
Reydon shook his head. "No — but what remains of him will be. His fragments — twelve in total — are scattered across the future. Each carries a sliver of his power, his memories, and some knowledge of possible timelines. I'm certain that one of them will eventually attempt to collect the others and reassemble the Monarch's full power."
Ravi's eyes narrowed. "And you want me to stop him."
Reydon stood, his twelve massive wings unfolding behind him in a display of both grace and power. "Yes. But before that, you must deal with the greater threat inside you — that Dark Sigil. I'll help however I can … but its roots run deep."
He gestured toward the crimson-cracked sky. Ravi followed his gaze and froze.
There — drifting above the fog and red cracks — was a vague, monstrous silhouette shaped like him, as if something born from his shadow was developing above, dormant but pulsing with malice.
"That," Reydon said, "is a manifestation of your dark consciousness — born from the sigil's corruption. It feeds on your essence. I'm astonished you've lasted this long."
Ravi rose from his chair, jaw tight. "What am I supposed to do? Do you have a way to remove it? Because I'd rather die than let it consume me!"
Reydon's expression remained composed. The table, throne, and chairs dissolved into glowing white sparks.
"I spent my life understanding the depths of the Umbra Aspect. In doing so, I fractured parts of my power and hid them across this continent. If you can find and absorb them, they'll strengthen your aspect — and may suppress or even eliminate the sigil over time."
He gave a small, knowing smile.
"You're the rightful heir of this power. So don't hesitate. Take what's yours … grandson."
Ravi's mouth twitched. For a fleeting moment, Reydon again reminded him of his father — playful, sharp, and always a step ahead.
Reydon's tone shifted again, this time solemn.
"There may be a third path. One I couldn't see clearly in my time."
Ravi tilted his head. "A third path?"
"Yes. Your aspect — Umbra — it seeks equilibrium. Balance between light and shadow. If such balance can be achieved, it may not just cure you … it might end the very cycle of corruption. You must survive long enough for that third path to reveal itself."
He stepped closer.
"Kill the Time Monarch before he rises again. Protect the balance. And live long enough to find what I couldn't."
Then, Reydon's body began to radiate with white and black light. His runes blazed across his neck, flowing down his arms, wings, and chest. The mist around them pulsed. Something stirred in the black water as well.
"I can't come with you," he said, a tinge of regret in his voice. "But I've seen your memories. The pain you've endured. The strength you carry. I believe in you."
He placed a hand gently atop Ravi's head. A jolt surged through Ravi — not painful, but illuminating, like something ancient and broken being mended, if only slightly.
The runes on Ravi's own neck shimmered with black and white light before slowly fading.
A gentle shower of sparks burst from Reydon's form, and his voice echoed one last time:
"Take what you can from this Aspect. Shape it. Make it yours."
Then — silence. And Ravi woke.
Gasping, he bolted upright. Darkness surrounded him. His clothes were torn, his body sore, but the pain of the sigil was ... dull. Manageable.
The broken platform above crumbled slowly, red fog coiling through the air like smoke from some unseen fire. He looked to his right — Waker lay groaning nearby, barely conscious but alive.
They had fallen deeper underground.
But they were still breathing.
Ravi touched his neck. The sigil pulsed … quietly. It didn't bite like before. Not yet.
And for the first time in what felt like days, Ravi didn't feel like he was drowning.