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Chapter 8: The City Between
They stood on streets that shimmered like glass, suspended above nothing. The stars here spiraled in reverse. Clocks ticked backward. Time itself didn't flow—it coiled.
Kaelen rubbed his temples. "This place… it's wrong."
Aeris whispered, "We're not in Elarion anymore."
The city had no name, no doors, no sky. Just winding paths, luminous arches, and statues of beings they'd never seen—each with a ring, but never more than three.
A whisper echoed on the wind:
"Welcome, O Keeper of Fate."
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The Archivist Appears
A figure emerged from the mist—cloaked in robes stitched with stars, face hidden behind a mask of mirrors.
"I am the Archivist," it said, voice both male and female. "I keep the record of those who bore the rings… and those broken by them."
Kaelen stepped forward. "Where are we?"
"The Veil-City," the Archivist said. "Where time leaks and truths are kept. You were not meant to enter—but your ring tore a path."
Aeris drew her blade. "Can we get back?"
"You can," the Archivist replied, "but not unchanged."
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The Vault of Reflections
The Archivist led them through a corridor of echoing clocks to a vault. Inside: mirrors. Hundreds of them. But none showed Kaelen's reflection as he was now.
Each mirror revealed a different Kaelen—older, younger, crowned, dying, bloodied, monstrous.
Aeris gasped. "What is this?"
"Each path the Fate Ring might choose," the Archivist said. "One truth. Many futures. Which one will you become?"
Kaelen turned away. "I don't want this."
"But it wants you," the Archivist said. "And so does the Herald."
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The Return
With the Archivist's help, they stepped through a portal formed by memory and intent. The city crumbled behind them as they left—and in the distance, something howled.
They landed again on frozen ground—but not in Svarheim.
They stood on the edge of Verdenthorn, the forest kingdom, home to the Nature Ring.
Birdsong.
Green light.
A new danger.
A new ring awakening.
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