The air shimmered with faint echoes of the past. Cled walked along a bridge of silver mist, the fragments of Heaven's Heart pulsing gently beneath his robes. Each step seemed to pull him deeper into a world that existed at the edges of memory, where whispers traveled not through sound but through thought.
This was the Realm of Whispers, the third of the Nine Sky Realms. Here, the air itself remembered every word ever spoken, every promise broken, every oath unfulfilled. It was a place where silence was deceptive — for even when nothing was heard, something was always watching, always listening.
Cled's fingers traced the faint glow beneath his chest. The relic responded with warmth, as if guiding him. He remembered the monk's words from the First Sky Realm: "Power is the language by which the universe expresses truth. Those who listen... become part of the song."
And now, Cled understood.
---
The bridge ended abruptly, opening onto a vast plateau suspended in the sky. Shadows flickered across the glowing stones, as if the terrain itself breathed. Thousands of faint, semi-transparent figures drifted in the distance — echoes of those who had once lived here, perhaps trapped between worlds.
> "Cled," whispered the relic in his mind. "To claim the fragment here, you must first face what is remembered."
He stepped forward. The echoes shifted, forming shapes and faces he almost recognized — some laughing, some crying, all whispering in unison. The sound was maddening at first, a chorus of hundreds of voices layering over one another. But Cled breathed calmly, letting the relic's warmth center him.
He closed his eyes.
The whispers condensed into a single, clear message:
> "Why did you leave us? Why did you forget?"
Cled's heart clenched. These weren't hostile spirits. These were memories — memories of lives lost, of deeds undone. They weren't asking for vengeance. They were asking to be remembered.
> "I will," Cled said softly. "I remember."
The plateau trembled. A ripple of golden light pulsed from the relic. The whispers grew louder, almost deafening. Shapes solidified into towering forms — manifestations of forgotten promises, grief, and regret.
> "Only those who can bear the weight of truth may claim the fragment," the relic intoned.
Cled stepped forward, palms open, unarmed. The largest of the forms loomed before him — a figure cloaked in shadow, face hidden, eyes like voids. Its voice was like a thousand echoes speaking at once.
> "You carry fragments of a world that abandoned us. Why should we allow you to pass?"
Cled bowed slightly. "Not to claim, but to understand. Not to command, but to listen."
The shadow paused. Its countless voices swirled, forming an unbroken wave of anguish. Then it moved, silently, faster than thought.
Cled's body responded instinctively, though not with force. He stepped into the flow of the shadow, letting it wash over him. Pain, fear, and sorrow poured into him, but he did not resist. He inhaled each memory as if it were a note in a symphony, letting it resonate with the relic's light.
Time lost meaning. Cled felt himself stretched across centuries — he lived a thousand lives in a heartbeat, each echo whispering secrets of the world. And with each whisper, the relic pulsed, growing warmer, brighter.
> "You carry more than power," it whispered. "You carry remembrance."
When Cled opened his eyes, the shadows had fallen silent. The plateau was empty, save for a single pedestal of crystal in the center. Upon it rested the third fragment — a shard glowing faintly like molten silver, vibrating with quiet song.
He approached carefully. As his fingers touched the fragment, memories cascaded into him — not just of sorrow, but of joy, courage, and love long forgotten. The whispers were now harmonious, forming a melody that threaded through his very soul.
The relic within his chest pulsed in response. Another fragment of Heaven's Heart had been claimed.
Cled felt a strange clarity, as if he were no longer only himself but part of something far larger, a river of existence flowing through the Nine Realms.
---
He paused and looked to the horizon. A faint path of drifting lights stretched before him, leading toward jagged peaks that seemed to pierce the clouds themselves. The Realm of Whispers had tested him, and he had passed, but the journey was far from over.
> "The next fragment," he murmured, "lies where fire forgets its fury and time forgets its name."
The relic hummed softly. The warmth spread through his chest, a quiet promise of guidance and warning.
Cled began walking, the whispers now silent behind him. Yet even in their silence, he felt their presence — a reminder that every step forward was a step through the memories of the forgotten.
Above him, the sky shimmered faintly. A storm brewed in the distance, but not yet here. This was a calm before another trial. He welcomed it, knowing the fragment had changed him — not just his power, but his understanding.
For the first time since leaving Eyrith Temple, Cled felt a subtle harmony with the realms themselves.
Yet, as he continued, a faint sound reached him — not from the Realm, but from somewhere beyond it. A voice unlike any whisper he had heard before, low and deliberate:
> "Cled… the path you walk was not meant to be trodden by one of flesh. Step carefully — or the Nine Realms themselves will turn against you."
Cled's silver eyes narrowed, and a calm smile crossed his lips. "Then I will listen even closer," he said, steady and unafraid.
The path ahead glimmered, stretching infinitely into the unknown. The Realm of Whispers had tested his mind, his soul, and his patience. Now, the next trial awaited — one where understanding alone would not be enough.
The wind shifted. The lights before him twisted, forming shapes that resembled flames dancing over an endless sea. The air trembled with anticipation.
Cled adjusted the strap of his bag and took a deep breath. He had survived the whispers. He had claimed the third fragment.
But the realm ahead… the fourth fragment… would demand more than remembrance.
And as he stepped forward, the faint shimmer of a distant figure appeared — watching, waiting, and aware of every heartbeat.
The Nine Realms were awakening.