The snow whispered as Arka stepped beyond the gates of Sky Fortress.
The night stretched endlessly before him, a canvas of dying stars and cold winds.
Behind him, the last fires of the fortress flickered like fading memories, swallowed by the distant hum of the Third Light.
The astral wolf followed silently, its translucent body glowing faintly in the frost.
Each of its steps left trails of starlight that slowly dissolved into the snow.
The world had entered an unfamiliar stillness.
No cries of beasts, no songs of the wind.
Even the heartbeat of the land seemed slower, as if nature itself was holding its breath.
Arka whispered to himself, "So this is the Path of Silence."
The Plains of Frozen Echoes
Days passed, though the sun never rose again.
A pale twilight hung permanently in the sky, trapped between day and night.
Arka walked through the plains of Frozen Echoes, where time moved unevenly.
Each footstep echoed seconds late, as if the world itself was unsure whether he truly existed.
The path was lined with statues of ancient beasts, carved not by hand but by time and sorrow.
They looked alive, yet hollow-eyed, their forms half-buried in crystal frost.
At the center of the plain stood a monolith covered in star-shaped runes.
Arka brushed away the snow, revealing words in an ancient tongue:
"To cross the Path of Silence, you must forget your name."
He froze.
The air around him pulsed like a living heart.
The astral wolf lowered its head, growling softly in warning.
"I can't forget who I am," Arka murmured. "If I do, there will be nothing left to return to."
But the monolith pulsed again, and before he could react, the ground beneath him split open.
The Memory Trial
He fell not through earth or sky, but through his own memories.
He saw himself as a child, before the blood of the star wolf awakened.
He saw his mother's gentle smile, the warmth of her hand on his head.
Then the fire.
The village in ruins.
The blood.
The silence.
Every moment of pain played backward and forward, over and over.
He tried to scream, but his voice had no sound.
He reached for his mother, but his hands passed through her like mist.
"Do you still wish to carry their names?" a voice asked from the void.
"If you let go, you will be free. You will no longer suffer."
Arka clenched his fists.
"I would rather suffer with their memory than exist without it."
The world trembled.
The voice hissed, "Then you are not ready to walk the path."
Arka opened his eyes, and the void shattered.
He found himself kneeling before the monolith again.
Blood dripped from his nose, his breath uneven.
But the runes on the stone had changed.
They now read: "Remember, but do not drown."
The astral wolf rested its head beside him, its silver eyes soft with understanding.
The Watcher of the Boundary
As Arka continued his journey, he reached the edge of the plains where the world seemed to end.
There, a vast rift divided heaven and earth, glowing faintly with hues of violet and white.
Floating above it was a figure draped in cloth woven from starlight, its face hidden behind a mask shaped like a crescent moon.
The figure spoke without moving its lips.
"You carry the mark of both light and beast. You should not be here, yet you walk this path unbroken."
Arka straightened, his silver eyes glowing faintly.
"I seek the source of the Third Light."
"The source cannot be found. It must find you," the Watcher replied.
"It awakens in silence, not in pursuit. What you chase is not power it is surrender."
Arka shook his head.
"I've seen what silence brings. It erases everything. I will not let the world vanish for the sake of balance."
The Watcher tilted its head slightly.
"Then prove that your voice is worth keeping."
A moment later, the rift exploded in light.
The figure raised its hand, and hundreds of shimmering blades formed from frozen time itself descended toward Arka.
He leapt back, summoning the astral wolf.
Together they moved in unison, deflecting the rain of blades with bursts of lunar energy.
Each strike that hit the ground froze reality for a second before shattering into fragments of light.
The Watcher glided closer, whispering, "Silence is perfection. Chaos is mercy denied."
Arka roared, his voice shaking the realm.
"Then let mercy be my chaos!"
With a sweep of his arm, he unleashed a wave of silver flame that tore through the frozen air.
It collided with the Watcher, scattering its form into thousands of glowing fragments.
But before fading completely, the Watcher smiled behind the mask.
"You have defied silence. Now it will notice you."
Then it was gone.
The Voice That Should Not Exist
The air around Arka grew heavier.
The sky rippled like disturbed water.
And then, from within the rift, a voice unlike any other spoke.
It was not loud, yet every part of existence trembled to hear it.
A soundless whisper that carried the weight of the stars.
"Child of the fallen sky... Why do you resist the stillness I offer?"
Arka's chest tightened.
He could barely stand beneath the pressure.
But he raised his head, his eyes burning with defiance.
"Because silence without life is not peace. It's death pretending to be divine."
The world shook, and the voice laughed a soundless vibration that made the air bleed light.
"Then walk deeper, Sovereign of the Lost. Let us see how long your voice can survive the silence."
The rift widened, forming a path of light stretching into the void.
Arka took a step forward without hesitation.
The astral wolf followed, howling softly a vow echoing through eternity.
And thus began the second stage of his journey:
The true crossing of the Path of Silence.