The silence that followed the encounter with the Eternal Council was not a dead one, but alive—like a breath before a new beginning. Albert walked ahead, calm, but his gaze still carried blue echoes in his irises, a sign that the truth he had seen remained within him.
— I'm starting to think we're not returning to the same world, Kaelya murmured, watching the trees that seemed... more attentive.
— We're not returning. We're traveling forward, Albert answered simply.
Elion chuckled softly.
— That kind of philosophy makes me crave something warm and bitter. Like a soup.
The road led to a small town, unknown on major maps but full of life. **Brithen**, the bird-city, built between two hills, seemed populated by merchants, traveling performers, and second-rate adventurers. No one seemed to notice the group's arrival—a rare and pleasant thing.
*
An inn called *"The Bear and the Star"* welcomed them with the smell of cinnamon, cocoa dust, and venison stew. A place with normal voices, clean plates, and familiar creaking floors.
Albert only ordered tea. Kaelya, on the other hand, allowed herself a plate of herb-roasted potatoes. Elion was already on his third serving.
— We feel normal here, Kaelya said with a soft smile.
Albert looked at her for a moment. He smiled. Then turned away.
— Because **they** don't know us yet.
*
In a corner, two young men spoke loudly. Not arguing. Just tense. One had a fresh wound, the other seemed to have betrayed a mission. From their words, there was truth. But also pain.
Albert stood slowly—not to intervene, but to **observe**. He approached their table, placed a large silver coin, and said:
— Sometimes it's better to finish the conversation with a full stomach.
Silence fell over the table. No spell. No force. Just his **voice**, simple and firm.
The two stopped. One looked at his own hand. It was trembling. Not from fear. But from **recognition**.
*
Albert returned to his table. He sat next to Kaelya. For a moment, something new settled between them—a kind of comfortable silence that didn't demand anything.
Kaelya:
— You have a thing for heroes who don't say they're heroes?
Albert:
— Yes. Because in truth, they're just people who... want not to destroy what they love.
*
In the distance, an old woman who had been watching from a market corner made a protective sign. In her eyes shone wisdom, but also fear.
— They've returned. The ones who walk between worlds...
*
And somewhere, in an underground hall, an old clock began to chime for the first time in 700 years.
A shadow rose from a stone chair:
— **Albert... is alive.**
The sounds of Brithen had become the background to an unusual calm. People spoke more quietly, as if without knowing why. The three—Albert, Kaelya, and Elion—had left the inn without haste and were heading toward the edge of the town, where an old map pointed to a series of northern roads.
Along the way, Kaelya broke the silence:
— Do you think this town will talk about us?
Albert glanced back at her.
— For a while. Then they'll turn us into stories. Then they'll forget us.
— Or worship us, Elion added with an ironic smile.
Albert:
— The most dangerous form of forgetting is worship. People no longer see the truth, only the symbol.
*
They walked a shaded path leading into the forest. It was a connector between small provincial towns and the trade routes toward the capitals. A few merchants passed them, some greeting politely, others eyeing them with suspicion.
As they advanced, Albert became more alert. Something in the trees felt... uneasy.
— You feel it? Elion whispered.
— Yes, Albert said. It's not hostility. It's... a **presence that waits**.
*
When they reached a crossroads, a silhouette awaited them. It was a woman with ash-gray hair, dressed in a black cloak with golden embroidery. She didn't seem threatening—but neither was she ordinary.
— Are you the ones who came through the mist?
Albert didn't answer right away.
Kaelya:
— Who's asking?
— A guardian. Not of a gate. But of an **old oath**.
*
The woman held out a key—large, old, with faded runes.
— Whoever holds this key must choose whether to open the gate... or leave it closed. Beyond it lies no treasure. No danger. Only truth that wounds.
Albert took the key. He looked at it for several seconds. Then placed it in his pocket.
— Not today.
*
The woman bowed.
— Wise. Those who know when to wait… are more dangerous than those who rush history.
*
The three continued on their way. And behind them, the woman dissolved into mist.
Kaelya asked softly:
— Why did you take the key?
Albert:
— Because truth cannot be avoided. Only **postponed** until you're ready to look it in the eye without blinking.
*
Above them, a black bird followed their steps.
Beyond the forest, fate began sketching the next threshold.
The sun began to lower, casting long shadows between the trees. The foliage trembled, not from the wind, but from a deeper unease. The group had reached the edge of a dense forest, and the path had narrowed, almost hidden by time.
Albert stopped and looked around.
— This place feels... different, said Elion. As if it doesn't belong to any known world.
— It doesn't, Albert confirmed. It's a **space of transition**. An edge between worlds. Between what we choose and what we are.
Kaelya took a deep breath.
— Does this mean we're approaching a choice?
— No. It means we're already in one.
*
Along the path lay stone sculptures—busts of unknown beings, some with human features, others abstract, almost forgotten by any god.
— They are avatars of those who passed through here, Albert explained. Places like this remember... **echoes of choices**.
— Think we'll leave a statue too? asked Elion.
— No, said Albert. We leave **deeper marks**.
*
Suddenly, from the forest, a silhouette emerged. An old man in broken armor and holding a rusted sword. He had no magical aura. Nothing but... **eyes that didn't blink**.
— Travelers who walk without fear... haven't learned to listen, he said.
Albert looked at him without hostility.
— And those who wait on the edge... sometimes forget to step forward.
*
The old man laughed. A dry laugh, but not malicious. He raised his sword.
— I don't come to test strength. I come to see if... you have the **right to proceed**.
Albert didn't draw a sword. Nor magic.
He simply extended his hand.
— Then don't lead us into a fight. Lead us into a **truth**.
*
The old man's sword fell to the ground. From the soil around them, flowers of light grew—one for every unspoken truth.
Kaelya whispered:
— Is it an illusion?
Albert:
— It's a **testimony**.
*
The old man bowed.
— Go. Not because you've won. But because... **you didn't try to win**.
*
The group moved on. Behind them, the old man faded as if he had never been.
And in the silence of the forest, a new statue appeared—Albert's face, eyes closed, but with a hand extended.
Interlude – When the World Holds Its Breath
*
Nelyra – Jade Kingdom
In the meditation chamber, the crystals vibrated gently, as if someone were singing without sound. Nelyra felt the tension on her skin—not as a threat, but as an echo... of **choice**.
— He stands on the edge of something. Not destruction. Not creation. But **revelation**.
An old advisor bowed silently. Nelyra began writing a letter—not with ink, but with light. Recipient: *The One Who Walks Through Worlds*.
*
Maestra Vayra – Torenhael
Studying a map of ancient energies, Maestra Vayra saw a zone of interference forming—not unstable, but elastic.
— He passed through a living place. Not a land. A space-concept. A gate that asks not for a key, but for understanding.
Her students, watching, scribbled furiously.
— What does it mean? one asked.
— It means the world might no longer catch up to him. Because **he has begun to surpass it**.
*
Arkan – Land of Dragons
He looked up at the sky. No storm. And yet... every old dragon was descending toward the ground. Not out of fear. But from **recognition**.
— It's not about battle, Arkan said. It's about *the path*. And when someone walks far enough, it makes the earth breathe differently.
*
The Entity – Beyond the Veil
With eyes closed, she touched an old stone. She knew where Albert was. Not in space. Not in time. But inside an **existential crossroad**.
— In every world, there is a threshold that only one can cross.
She smiled. In that deep silence, she remembered the first time she saw Albert.
— And I… knew he would be the one.
*
Demon King – Throne of Shadow
Deep in the realm, the Demon King said only:
— It's too early.
The advisors asked: "Too early for what?"
He answered:
— For the world to understand him.
*
And yet, across the entire world, a sensation began to take shape. As if reality itself... **held its breath**.
Not out of fear.
But out of **respect**.
Night had fallen over the forest, but the group did not light a fire. This was a place where fire didn't warm—it attracted. Instead, they sheltered beneath a tall cliff, wrapped in roots and moss.
Kaelya leaned her head against a tree trunk and stretched out a thick blanket. Elion, beside her, flipped through an old magic book, scribbling absurd notes in the margins—perhaps just to stay awake.
Albert sat a little farther away, staring upward. Not at the sky. But **beyond the sky**.
*
A few leagues away, in a border inn to the south, the **Stranger** entered through a side door. He wasn't known, but no one questioned him. That was his nature—to be seen, but unnoticed.
He sat at a secluded table and opened a leather notebook. Inside, a single line:
> "He refused to open the gate. That means he will open it in the future."
Beneath it, a sketch of Albert's face, eyes closed.
Someone sat across from him. A woman with a silver mask. No words exchanged—just a map handed over.
— **The next phase begins in the West.**
The Stranger nodded and vanished without a sound.
*
In a realm separated from reality by a veil of green lights, the **Entity** walked across a bridge suspended over a sea of memory. Beneath her feet moved images: Albert at different ages—some of which had not happened yet.
She touched her temple, and an ancient voice—the Time Council—spoke:
— Are you ready to follow him down a path he will choose? Even if it leads you **against your own purpose**?
She closed her eyes.
— If I leave him alone... he'll become something the world cannot contain. But if I walk beside him… perhaps we will create something the world does not need to control.
The bridge crumbled beneath her steps.
And the Entity… **dived straight into the vision that was coming**.
*
Far away, in Albert's dream, a voice whispered:
— Beware the shadows that tell you the sun doesn't exist. And remember: even you can be a shadow... to someone else.
*
The silence of the night returned.
But nothing was truly silent anymore.
The road had grown irregular. The ground was no longer just a surface of support, but a living tissue that reacted to footsteps. The trees didn't murmur—they **listened**.
Kaelya was the first to speak:
— There's a silence here that makes me feel like we're... at the center of a question.
Albert nodded:
— And the answer isn't a destination. It's the choice we make with every step.
Elion placed his palm on a thick tree, and the bark trembled slightly. A rune appeared for a moment—then faded.
— This isn't normal magic, he said. The trees aren't talking to each other. **They're talking to us**.
Albert stopped and knelt:
— This realm is a screen. An interface between thought and reality. That's why not everyone can reach it. Because those who don't know what they are... can't be reflected.
*
From the forest, a woman in a blue cloak approached. She didn't seem alive, but neither was she spirit. Her eyes were filled with liquid light.
— What are you looking for here? she asked.
Kaelya, without blinking:
— The truth.
— And what if the truth is that you were never meant to be summoned?
Albert stepped forward.
— Then we'll change it.
*
The woman stared at him for several long seconds. Then she dissolved into a cloud of silver dust.
Elion:
— I'm starting to notice something. The further we go... the less the world tests us through battle. And more through **impossible questions**.
Albert:
— And everything that is impossible... is afraid we'll find a way.
*
In the sky, a new moon—shining like a silent sun—unveiled a new path, visible only in its light. A bridge of light over a quiet abyss.
Kaelya:
— What if it's an illusion?
Albert:
— Then it's one that wants us alive.
And they stepped... forward.
The bridge of light had no sound. No weight. And yet, each step upon it produced a subtle vibration in the surrounding space—a silent note, as if the world were singing for every choice made.
Elion walked carefully, his gaze uneasy.
— Albert… why does it feel like we're being **watched by something that has no form**?
Albert didn't respond right away. He stopped at the center of the bridge and looked down.
Beneath it… was nothing. No abyss. No light. Only a **complete absence of reality**.
— Because what follows us isn't a being. It's **the intent of a world waiting to be created**.
Kaelya slowed her pace and looked him in the eyes.
— And if we're wrong?
— Then that world will be built from our mistake. And we'll live in it until we learn how to rebuild it.
*
At the end of the bridge stood a gate. Not a normal one. It was an arch made of solidified time—each segment seemed like a memory. Albert touched one fragment with his fingers and felt a piece of his childhood, a day he looked at the sky wondering if life had meaning.
Kaelya touched another piece—pure emotion, undefined but familiar.
— This gate… is **reading us**?
Albert:
— No. The gate **is us**. If we want to pass, we have to accept ourselves as we were, as we are, and as we will be.
*
In the next moment, a fourth figure appeared behind them. No footsteps. No breeze.
It was... **the Stranger**.
But he said nothing. Only watched. Albert extended a hand toward him, without turning.
— If you want to learn the answer… you'll have to walk with us.
For a moment, time fractured. The bridge shimmered with pure white intensity.
*
But the Stranger… **did not step forward**. He simply turned and vanished into the darkness between realities.
Kaelya:
— Why did you offer him your hand?
Albert:
— Because some shadows cannot be banished. But they can be invited to know the light.
*
The gate opened without a sound. Not to a new world.
But to **a version of themselves that no longer feared to move forward**.
When they passed through the silent gate, they felt nothing. No change, no motion. Yet the world around was no longer the same. They hadn't stepped into a new place—but into a **subtly altered version of reality**.
The leaves looked painted. The sky pulsed softly, like a heart. And in the air… there was no scent, no wind, only a dense waiting—almost tangible.
— We're in the space between what we know and what we could remember, said Albert.
Kaelya ran her hand through a ray of light flowing like silk.
— Here… there is no past. Only echoes of "what if."
Elion instinctively searched for something—a map, a formula, any constant. Nothing was fixed anymore.
— This is a place built from our variants, he said. Here, we could've been anything.
Albert nodded:
— Here, we can learn not what we are… but what we **never were**.
*
From the distance, a figure appeared. Not threatening. But familiar.
It was **Albert**—younger, without the weight of wisdom. His eyes were full of dreams and his hands empty.
The younger Albert looked at the three of them—without hate, without fear. Just… curiosity.
— What have I become? he asked.
Albert, the adult, stepped forward.
— Less of a dreamer. But more alive. With fewer certainties, but with greater will.
— Is it worth it?
Albert looked at Kaelya, then at Elion. He smiled.
— Yes.
The younger version faded.
*
At that moment, a door formed from nothing opened, revealing a new path—not a physical one, but one **shaped by the decisions yet unspoken**.
Albert:
— This is the final part of the road. After this… the real world will await us again.
Kaelya:
— And if it doesn't recognize us?
Albert:
— Then we'll teach it to know us again. Step by step.
*
And they stepped toward the final phase of Chapter 11—**before everything truly begins**.