A Step Beyond the Known
Elias stepped through the portal.
The moment his foot crossed the threshold, the world vanished.
For an instant, there was nothing.
No air. No light. No sound.
Only the feeling of being unmoored from time itself.
Then, the silence shattered.
Elias fell.
The force of it was overwhelming—a descent not of distance, but of existence. He was plummeting through something far deeper than space, past endless layers of forgotten histories, discarded moments, echoes of worlds that had been erased.
Whispers clawed at his mind, but not the familiar voices of the First Name.
These whispers were different.
They were the voices of those who had been lost.
> "We were here before the world was rewritten."
"We were never meant to be forgotten."
"Find us."
Elias clenched his jaw as the weight of their words threatened to pull him apart. His very identity was unraveling at the edges, as if this space—this void between reality and memory—was trying to erase him once more.
But he was not the same Elias Vael who had been erased before.
This time, he held onto himself.
This time, he fought back.
The power of the First Name flared inside him, anchoring him. The whispers recoiled, and for the first time in the void's existence—it recognized him.
> "You are not lost."
> "You are remembered."
The moment the thought formed, the descent stopped.
And Elias landed—not on solid ground, but on something far older.
---
The Bridge of Forgotten Light
The space around him was impossible.
A vast, infinite sky stretched outward, filled with ribbons of golden light, each one shifting and weaving like living threads. They connected to something far below—a bridge, wide and endless, floating between worlds.
Elias stood upon it, his feet resting on stone that shimmered with ever-changing words.
Not just words.
Names.
Every step he took revealed another forgotten name, another piece of history that had been erased.
This was no ordinary place.
This was the Bridge of Forgotten Light.
A path that existed between what was and what could never be.
And he was not alone.
Ahead, at the very edge of the bridge, the Keeper of the Unwritten stood waiting.
Her golden eyes glowed against the vast emptiness around them.
"You made it," she said, her voice carrying across the vastness of the bridge as though it were woven into the very air.
Elias exhaled sharply, steadying himself. "What is this place?"
The Keeper tilted her head slightly, considering her words.
> "This is the last path before the truth."
She gestured to the ribbons of light surrounding them. "Each one is a thread of memory, a name that was taken. The Silent Monks erased them, just as they erased you."
Elias reached out, fingers brushing one of the golden strands.
A name flashed before his eyes—not his, but another's.
He saw a woman in armor, standing atop a battlefield that no longer existed, leading an army that had been wiped from history. Her name had been spoken once, long ago, but now—only this memory of her remained.
The thread trembled and disappeared into the void.
Elias felt a sharp pang of loss.
"So this is what they do," he murmured.
The Keeper nodded.
"The Silent Monks have spent ages ensuring that history remains as they have shaped it. They feared the power of names—especially the one you spoke before the world was rewritten."
Elias turned to her, his pulse quickening.
"And what happens if I speak it again?"
The Keeper's gaze darkened.
> "Then the world will remember everything."
> "Including the one who was lost with it."
---
The One Who Remembers Him
A chill crawled down Elias's spine.
"The one who was lost?" he echoed.
He had assumed that speaking the First Name had unmade the world itself—had shattered reality.
But now, something in the Keeper's words hinted at something worse.
The Keeper did not answer immediately. Instead, she turned and began walking further across the bridge.
Elias followed, the power inside him thrumming with anticipation.
"Who was lost?" he pressed. "What aren't you telling me?"
The Keeper exhaled softly, almost in sorrow.
Then she stopped.
And in front of them—the bridge ended.
Or rather, it split into three separate paths, each one stretching into three different directions, each one lined with glowing sigils of fate.
And at the center of it—a gate stood waiting.
Unlike the portal he had stepped through before, this one was different.
It was unfinished.
Cracks ran along its frame, as though it had once been whole but had been broken apart by force.
Elias felt his heart hammer in his chest.
He knew this gate.
Not from memory.
But from something deeper.
Something buried within him.
The Keeper turned to face him fully now.
Her golden eyes met his.
> "Elias Vael, the world was rewritten to erase the First Name."
> "But it was not just you who was erased with it."
> "Someone else was taken from time."
Elias stilled.
He had always assumed that he had been the one who had unmade the world—that he had destroyed everything when he spoke the Name.
But now, standing before this broken gate, before the three diverging paths, before the threads of history that still flickered with forgotten memories—
He realized something.
Someone had been taken with him.
And the Silent Monks had made sure he would never remember who.
A sharp pain lanced through his skull, memories flickering at the edges of his mind—a hand reaching for his, a voice calling his name as the world broke apart—
He staggered, gripping his head.
The Keeper placed a hand on his shoulder.
> "The Silent Monks erased them."
> "But you can bring them back."
Elias looked up, his breath uneven.
"How?"
The Keeper turned toward the gate.
> "By choosing the right path."
She gestured to the three separate bridges before them.
"One will lead you to the truth."
"One will lead you to the past."
"And one will lead you to the end."
Elias swallowed hard.
He could feel it—the weight of his choice pressing down on him.
Each path was calling to him.
Each one leading to something beyond the Silent Monks, beyond the Seekers, beyond even the First Name.
And in the distance—through the broken gate, beyond the veil of forgotten time—
Someone was waiting for him.
He just had to choose.
Elias exhaled, stepping forward.
And then—
He chose.
---
Find out next time on Ancient Legends: The Whispering Veil.