After parting from Sofea, Aeron stepped onto the forest trail, the morning warmth fading into cool shade as ancient trees rose above him. Sunlight filtered through the leaves like falling sparks, and the air grew strangely still the deeper he walked.
The shrine of old legends stood far beyond the village past forgotten paths, past ruins that time had erased from memory. Most people avoided this area, whispering that the gods abandoned it long ago.
Aeron didn't believe in curses or ghost tales.
But lately… the dreams.
The visions.
The voice whispering his name in the dark.
"Aeron… find it…"
He tightened his grip on the small offering pouch meant for his mother. The shrine was the only place he felt close to her, the only place the world felt quiet enough to hear his own thoughts.
After an hour of walking, the forest thinned, revealing the crumbling stone arch he had seen in his dreams half buried under vines, pale runes barely visible.
Aeron's heartbeat quickened.
The shrine.
He stepped inside.
The air immediately changed colder, heavier, shifting like invisible currents moving through the stone walls. Faint lights flickered across the broken floor, as though reacting to his presence.
Aeron knelt by the small altar, placing the flowers Sofea brought earlier.
"Mother… I hope you can hear me."
Silence.
He bowed his head but something glinted at the corner of his vision.
A small light.
Pale silver.
Faint, but pulsing.
Aeron turned slowly.
Under a slab of collapsed stone, something shone like a star trapped in darkness. Drawn by instinct, he moved closer, pushing aside rubble until his fingers brushed cold metal.
A ring.
But unlike any jewelry he had ever seen.
The silver band was cracked along its surface, the edges jagged and uneven as if it had been through battles, fire, and ages. Strange symbols curled around it, shifting subtly even when he wasn't moving.
Aeron's breath caught.
He had seen this ring before.
In his dreams.
"Find it…"
His hand trembled as he picked it up. The metal was freezing, biting into his skin. The runes glowed faint white, then brightened — too quickly.
Aeron tried to drop it, but his fingers wouldn't release.
Light surged.
Wind roared inward, slamming into him like a hurricane. The shrine trembled violently, stones cracking under invisible pressure.
Aeron staggered backward as the world blurred and warped.
Then—
[Year 582 AL]
A flash of a burning sky.
A city of metal collapsing.
Screams.
A masked warrior fighting alone.
A face.
Hard eyes.
Cold expression.
A name that flooded his mind—
Raven.
The link snapped into place with a deafening crack.
Aeron felt his body stretch, tear, dissolve—
And suddenly the air was hot and choking with smoke.
Flames rose around him.
Buildings collapsed.
Creatures screeched in the distance.
He gasped, chest tight, falling to his knees on shattered concrete.
His hands were no longer his.
His clothes were burned armor.
His heartbeat felt different faster, heavier, older.
Then a voice screamed!
"Aeron—run!"
Then everything went black.