The world snapped into clarity—not hazy like before, not distant or symbolic. Real.
He stood in a small stone chamber, different from the shrine but built with the same style. A man knelt at an altar, shoulders trembling. His face was hidden, but his voice carried clearly.
"Just let her live. Take anything else. Anything. Take me."
Cain's pulse slammed in his ears. He recognized that voice. Not immediately—memory didn't snap into place like a revelation—but a deep ache stirred in his chest. A piece of something he'd forgotten long before waking in the forest.
The man pressed his forehead against the altar. "I'll pay any price."
The air thickened. Shadows gathered on the walls—not like darkness, but like silhouettes of wings stretching and folding.
Cain stepped closer despite himself. "Who are you talking to?"
He received no answer. The memory wasn't aware of him. It played forward, unstoppable.
The shadows behind the kneeling man shivered—and descended.
