The shock was so immense that Cain almost halted mid-step. His breath hitched, his limbs faltered, but with a clenched jaw and a growl deep in his throat, he forced himself forward.
"Your name is Cain Laurifer. You must move forward. Reach the light at the end."
He muttered the words again and again, his voice barely above a whisper. Each syllable was a lifeline, the only anchor he had in the collapsing world of his mind. The path stretched ahead, unseen and unknowable, shrouded in oppressive darkness that devoured everything—light, warmth, and now, his memories.
The fading began slowly, like ink drops dissolving into water. At first, it was minor: names, faces, dates. Then it escalated. Every second of his saga in the Crimson World, his journey across the Nine Empyrean Suns Universe, even his time in Aether—the places, the emotions, the people—they all began to evaporate from his consciousness. There were no warnings, no pain, just the terrifying realization that they were gone.
