The Gate opened not with thunder, but with silence.
Light spilled from the obsidian monolith in slow, spiraling tendrils—cold, colorless, pulling Maelin toward its heart like breath to a dying flame. The air shimmered as if it had forgotten how to remain still.
Beside her, Caelum drew his blade, but Eira raised her hand. "Steel won't matter beyond this point. Only memory."
Maelin turned to her. "You said you were the last Guardian. Does that mean… you've been through it?"
Eira hesitated, then whispered, "No. But I was born from what lies on the other side."
With a final look at the forest behind her, Maelin stepped into the Gate.
---
Inside the Whisper
It was not a realm.
It was a memory.
Not hers.
She floated—weightless—through stars that burned in reverse, light unwinding into shadow, and then stitching back together into scenes. But they weren't hers.
They belonged to Liraen.
She saw him: once cloaked in white, radiant, a singer of worlds. One of the original Choir.
And then—betrayal.
The others tore his melody from the Song of the Stars. Not out of malice—but fear. He had sung a note too deep, too powerful. A note that didn't shape stars… but revealed what lay behind them.
> The Hollow Light.
In their panic, the Choir shattered his body, scattering his essence into the void. But even in pieces, Liraen whispered through time. And now, drawn by the opening of the Whisper, his pieces were returning.
Maelin gasped as her body hit the ground—though no ground existed. Before her stood a crystalline platform, floating in a skyless dark.
A pedestal rose in its center, holding an orb of swirling silver.
She stepped toward it.
But a voice, familiar and broken, stopped her.
> "You shouldn't have come alone."
She turned—and saw herself.
But not quite.
This version wore a darker crown. Her eyes shimmered with fractured light, and her skin seemed half-etched in Choir script. Her voice was softer—but colder.
> "I am the Maelin who opened the Gate before you. And I failed."
Maelin backed away. "You're not real."
The other Maelin smiled faintly. "Neither is this place. But that doesn't mean you can't die here."
---
And then the darkness moved.
Not a monster. Not a creature.
But a sound. A chorus of Liraen's unfinished melody, reaching through dimensions, shaping a body made of sorrow and brilliance.
The Hollow Light was coming.
And Maelin would have to choose—accept her reflection's fate…
Or rewrite her song.