Hidden beneath the ruins of the Mirror Realm, something stirred.
Fragments of the gate Aran shattered had begun to pulse — not with flame, but with song. A low hum that echoed across the thin places between worlds.
Three Flamebound scouts entered the chamber where it began.
Only one returned.
His eyes were wide. His voice shaken.
"It's open again," he whispered. "The Shard Gate…"
Aran felt it across the leyline that now pulsed through his spine — a tear in reality, and behind it…
Not the False Aran.
Something he had been running from.
Something that remembered him.