“And in the ashes of the wind, I will find your voice,

It burned between words; it melted like snow.

Among the ruins — your living trace,

I walk through silence, through eternity’s roads…”

⸻

Beneath a gray sky, where the sun no longer shone and only cold dust rose from the shattered earth, three travelers came to a halt. Before them, like the bones of some ancient beast, rose the remains of a tower — the Eye of Fire, destroyed in the days of the First Cycle. Once, magic had burned here, and the spirits of the elements came at the call of the Chosen. Now — only shards of stone, half-overgrown with moss, and a circle in the center, like a black eye pressed into the ground.

Tarion drew a breath — the air was bitter, like memories. His hand gripped a shard of a staff that pulsed dimly in response. Laina, standing to his right, bowed her head, and blue sparks again flared around her fingers. The spirits heard her, even here. Gret, tired but composed, looked at them both and spoke quietly:

— We’re close. This stone remembers their steps.

— Who were they? Tarion slowly swept his gaze over the ruins.

Those who betrayed the resonance. And those who gave themselves to the fire to protect it replied, Gret. A whole watch of the Keepers died here. And Kael’Teron entered his new form for the first time.

The wind stirred the ash, and it turned into shadows. Laina raised her hands, her eyes glowing. From the edge of the stone circle, a figure rose — tall, translucent, its face hidden beneath a hood. It was not Kael’Teron himself, but a projection left behind. It spoke in a voice that pierced through bone:

 You came too late. He has already awakened the tower's memories.

It's only an echo," Gret growled, drawing his sword, but even that can be dangerous.

The shadow slowly lowered its hand, and from the ash grew figures — translucent warriors, burned yet alive in the magic of memory. There were seven of them. Each held an artwork from the old era.

— These… these are the Keepers, — Laina whispered. — Their souls are bound to this place.

Tarion stepped into the center of the circle. Beneath his feet, the stones lit up with runic symbols. The shard of the staff in his hand began to vibrate — like a key approaching a lock. Then the voice spoke again:

— Betrayal is not forgiven, Tarion. Even if it wasn’t yours.

— I did not come to ask forgiveness. I came to understand.

The warriors of ash advanced. And the battle began.

Laina stretched out her hands, weaving spells of air and flame. Her sparks clashed with the energy of the spirits, each explosion — like a memory of pain. Gret fought like a lion, protecting Tarion’s back. But their strength was not equal. These were not mere phantoms — they were the sediment of magic, chained in suffering.

When Gret’s sword struck one of the spirits in the chest, it didn’t vanish — only staggered back, screaming:

— We were the Watchers, and you destroyed us!

— We are not guilty of the past! — Tarion shouted. — Let us finish what you began!

Then — something shifted. One of the spirits lowered his weapon. His eyes (if that glowing could be called eyes) looked closely at Tarion. He inclined his head and said:

— If you are truly a Keeper… show that you remember.

The staff shard in Tarion’s hand flared. The light that poured from it carried images: outlines of the Keepers, voices of their oaths, the chain of unity between humans and spirits.

— I am Tarion, son of the vanished Orey, student of Falen. And I carry the fire you once lit.

And then the shadows halted.

Silence fell upon the ruins like a blanket on coals. The wind died. One by one, the spirits bowed their heads. Kael’Teron’s projection looked at him one last time — wordless — and crumbled into ash.

— We passed the test, — Laina whispered, lowering her hands.

— No, — said Tarion, — this was only the first key.

Suddenly, from beneath the circle where he stood, the stones parted. From the depths of the earth rose a light — a portal. The Tower’s ancient energy still lived. But who had awakened it — them, or someone who had come before?

Tarion, Laina, and Gret exchanged glances.

— We’re going down, — he said.

And he took the first step into a new depth.

— This stone… — Tarion bent and touched a ribbed surface just barely peeking from beneath the moss. — It’s the remains of a connection mark. One of those the Keepers used.

— The Resonance Mark, — said Gret, wiping sweat from his brow.

— And it’s not just a stone. It’s an entrance. A portal.

— To the Black Cycle? — Laina asked quietly, her voice trembling.

The words hung in the air like wasps above forgotten mead. They stood over the ruins of the circle, which still held a fragment of energy — ominous, but familiar. Nearby, the wind rose, lifting ash that settled on Gret’s shoulders.

— We shouldn’t open this, — he said. — But someone already has. The echoes are awakening.

When you touch another’s fate — you risk your own. His mentor once told him those words. And still… he came.

Gret had never sought glory. His path was simple — protect, fight, survive. But when he saw Tarion and Laina rushing to help the village, risking their lives, he remembered the oath he once swore to himself — not to turn away. So he went with them.

Maili stayed behind. Not out of fear, but because someone had to protect the people while others sought answers in the ruins of the old world. She promised: “I will hold the light while you search for truth.”

— This seal is nearly broken, — Laina said, touching the air near the mark. Her fingers released small blue sparks. — Someone’s been here. And recently.

— It could be a trap, — Gret warned again. — But I won’t stop you. Just let me stay by your side.

— Together, — said Tarion. — As Keepers. Old and new.

Beneath the ground, something trembled. The stone lit up with silver-blue patterns, and the air above it shimmered. The long-ruined Tower seemed to come alive in ghostly light, its contours rising from the darkness of the past.

— Ready? — Laina raised her hand, her eyes glowing with Resonance.

Tarion nodded, gripping the shard of the staff. Gret held his sword at the ready.

And then everything exploded in light.

⸻

Darkness swallowed them. But it was no void — it was alive. It breathed, whispered.

— You have returned… — a hollow voice echoed through the shadows. — At last.

Their figures stood at the edge of a space that had no edges. A void formed from fragments of memory, ash, and screams. And there, at its very center, rose a figure.

Half-human. Half-shadow. His eyes glowed like blades honed with pain.

— Kael’Teron, — Laina whispered. — He is here.

Tarion stepped forward. Magic sang in his heart, sang and trembled — not from fear, but recognition. They approached.

— We did not come for battle, — he said. — But to reclaim—

— Reclaim what? — Kael’Teron interrupted. — The light you cannot hold? The magic you betrayed? You are too late.

He raised his hand, and shadows thickened around them. But at that moment, Gret stepped up beside Tarion and said:

— Maybe we are late. But we came. And that — is more than you ever did.

Kael’Teron froze.

And behind him — the circle reappeared. The Symbol of Resonance.

And it… cracked.