The Cathedral of Aetherion shimmered beneath eternal daylight.
Its spires pierced through clouds like silver blades.Choruses of radiant song echoed in perfect harmony.And at its heart—
Elenya knelt, hands clasped, eyes closed.
To those who passed by, she was the image of serenity.The Saintess. The Light of Threads. The Living Miracle.
But inside?
She was breaking.
It started with a dream.
A dream she couldn't remember.
Just fragments:
Fingers wrapped in hers.
A voice whispering, "You'll forget me. That's how I'll save you."
And the sound of a quill scratching something… final.
She had woken up crying.
Now, in the prayer chamber, her hands trembled.
She touched her chest.
It hurt.
Not physical pain—worse.
The ache of missing something she couldn't name.
Then a whisper came.
Not from the gods.
From the wind.
"He's alive."
She snapped her eyes open.
There was no one there.
But something—a folded paper—rested on the altar.
Elenya looked around.
Every priest and cleric bowed in prayer.
No one noticed.
She opened the paper.
It read:
Do you remember the Thread that bound us?You cut it.But I kept the knot.
I'm in the Tower. Waiting.– L
Her breath caught.
"Saintess?"
She turned.
A man in silver robes bowed low.
It was High Inquisitor Velmar.
"The Supreme Seat requests your presence."
She hid the letter in her sleeve.
"…Of course."
The Inquisitor led her through crystalline halls.
All around, murals depicted Lucian's defeat—his sealing, betrayal, and the "sacrifice of the Five."
Elenya paused at one.
A painting of herself, standing with blade in hand, her other palm on Lucian's chest—pushing the seal into his body.
Her face in the mural was cold.
But in her chest now?
A knot of grief.
They entered the Grand Hall.
Twelve Cardinals sat in silence.
At the head: the Pontiff of Light, masked in gold.
Velmar gestured.
"She has arrived."
The Pontiff spoke.
"Saintess Elenya. We have sensed... fractures in your soul.Glitches. Inconsistencies.**
"You are remembering things... that never happened."
Elenya said nothing.
He continued.
"These are signs of Lucian's influence. Echoes of the Forgotten Sin."
"He must be purged from your spirit."
Elenya's voice was soft.
"…What if the sin wasn't his?"
The hall fell silent.
A Cardinal rose. "Blasphemy."
Another: "Corruption has begun."
The Pontiff raised a hand.
"All will be well. If she submits."
Velmar approached.
Holding a chalice of light.
"The Rite of Absolute Clarity. Drink. And we will remove all doubts."
Elenya looked at the chalice.
It shimmered.
Holy.
Pure.
Deadly.
If she drank it—any trace of Lucian would be erased.
Forever.
No more dreams. No more ache.
Just peace.
She stared.
And whispered:
"No."
The light dimmed.
Velmar blinked.
"…What did you say?"
Elenya looked up.
Her voice was clear.
"I remember."
A flash—
Her hand moved—
And threads of golden light exploded from her sleeve, weaving into barriers, slicing robes, breaking the circle.
She ran.
Alarms rang.
Clerics shouted.
Elenya burst from the cathedral doors, robes torn, magic trembling in her wake.
A storm cracked above.
As if heaven itself was angry.
But she kept running.
Toward the Tower.
Toward him.
[System Notification – External Sync Detected]
Anchor Reconnection: Elenya – Status: Partial AwakeningEmotion Detected: Guilt / Longing / DefianceDirection: Self-Initiated Journey Toward Subject: Lucian
Far below, in the Tower's depths, Lucian sat against a wall—bandaging his shoulder after the clash with his darker self.
He paused.
Looked up.
"…She remembers."
Naia tilted her head. "Who?"
Lucian smiled faintly.
"One of the five."
Selaria stirred.
"Then the gods will come for her."
Lucian nodded.
"And we'll be ready."
Far away, Elenya stopped at a cliff overlooking the Tower.
It loomed in the distance.
Her voice was low.
"I failed you once."
Wind wrapped around her like a whisper.
"Then don't fail yourself again."
She stepped forward.
And jumped.
Golden threads formed beneath her feet.
Guiding her descent.