The temple closed behind them without a sound.
Not a door. Not a click. Not a hinge turning.
It was as if the mountain itself had swallowed them whole.
You are inside now.
Kael led the way, but not out of courage. Each step felt like moving through water, thick and slow, as if the stone beneath his feet were alive, testing him. His chest ached with anticipation he could not name.
Elior followed. His fingers brushed along the walls unconsciously. The stone was colder than any winter he had ever felt. Hard. Unyielding. And yet it seemed… aware. Each touch whispered something he could not understand, something familiar yet forgotten.
Aevrin brought up the rear, silent, watching. His mind cataloged every flicker of shadow, every movement of the air. He noticed the way the light danced across the uneven walls, how the dust hung suspended, drifting lazily like it had all the time in the world. He sensed something… wrong. Not dangerous. Not threatening. But heavy. A presence pressing gently, invisibly, against his chest.
Kael's hand tightened into a fist. Why does this feel… wrong?He didn't feel fear, not exactly. More like an ache. Deep, slow, hollow.
The corridor stretched before them, narrow and uneven, carved long ago by hands that no longer existed. Ancient lamps clung to the walls, their flames trembling, like they were afraid to illuminate what waited ahead. Every step echoed, not sharply, not loudly, but as if it were falling into a space endless and hollow.
And then they heard it.
A whisper. Faint, almost part of the wind.
"Do not forget…"
Kael's breath caught.Elior froze, heart hammering.Aevrin's eyes scanned the shadows.
The sound dissolved as quickly as it came. A memory? Or a warning?
They reached the central chamber and froze.
The room was vast. Circular. Carved directly from the mountain's heart. The ceiling opened into darkness so high that no light dared touch it. Broken sunbeams slipped through cracks, falling like pale fingers onto the stone floor. Dust floated in the golden streams, slow, almost suspended in time.
And then they saw them.
Three sculptures.
Tall. Majestic. Severe.
Armor carved in exquisite detail, polished by centuries. Cloaks frozen mid-flow. Weapons held not in aggression, but in unwavering resolve. Faces calm. Eyes sharp. Postures unbreakable.
They looked like heroes. Like legends. Like beings who had once stood between light and darkness.
And they looked… like them.
Not fully. Not clearly. Time had softened the details. But the essence—the stance, the energy, the authority—hit them like a weight pressing into their chests.
Kael's breath caught.Aevrin's knees weakened.Elior's chest felt like it had been hollow, then suddenly filled and torn apart at once.
The silence was more than silence. It was thick. Tangible. Heavy in the stomach, like the air itself was pressing down on their ribs.
They moved closer without thinking. Their feet carried them forward, drawn by something deep, old, and unspoken. Every step was heavier than the last.
Elior stopped first. Directly in front of the middle sculpture. His hand trembled. He didn't notice at first, his eyes fixed on the stone face.
Familiar. Distant. Impossible.
He raised his hand, almost against his will. Fingers brushed the cold stone.
Something rose inside him.
Joy. Pride. Longing. Sorrow. Warmth. Pain. Loss.
All at once.
It was unbearable.
Tears slid down his cheeks quietly, without permission. He didn't try to stop them. He couldn't. A small, broken smile tugged at his lips—a smile that belonged to someone remembering a beautiful dream while waking into tragedy.
Kael noticed. "Elior…?"
He turned sharply.
Elior shook. "I… I don't know."
His voice broke. "I'm happy, I think. And… I'm hurting. And I don't know why."
He pressed harder against the sculpture. "I feel like… I'm touching something I lost. But I don't remember losing anything."
Aevrin's throat tightened. His eyes burned with a strange ache. Why does this hurt so much? Why does it feel like I'm watching myself die… in another life?
He stepped forward to his own sculpture. Palm on stone. A shock ran through him—not pain, but like lightning inside memory. Shadows, fire, screams, hands reaching, blood, promises, goodbyes—but all gone in a blink. Only emptiness remained.
Kael approached last. Hesitant. Afraid. Drawn.
His hand touched the cold armor. Vision blurred. Heart racing. A surge of something… not words, only feelings.
Protect them. Stand. Don't fall. Not again.
He staggered. Aevrin caught him."Kael.""I'm fine," he whispered. But none of them were.
Three boys. Three forgotten legends. Three souls remembering what minds could not.
The echoes began.
Faint. Almost imperceptible.
A shadow of Elior swung a sword in the air, precise, fluid, a practiced movement his body shouldn't remember.
Kael glimpsed himself kneeling, binding invisible threads of energy, weaving patterns of protection.
Aevrin saw three faint figures, their past selves, moving in perfect synchronicity—hand gestures, whispered words of power, eyes sharp with focus.
The echoes flickered, dissolved, leaving a trembling residue in their hearts. Not memories, not yet. But a pulse. A calling.
They moved on. Corridors opened into side rooms: collapsed stairways, meditation chambers, empty alcoves. Each room carried its own weight.
A faint whisper of voices, like the echo of arguments they never had.
A shadow that flickered at the corner of the eye, gone when looked at directly.
Dust motes dancing too deliberately, catching light in patterns that felt deliberate.
Each sensation touched them differently. Kael's chest tightened. Elior's stomach fluttered, confused by longing he couldn't name. Aevrin's hands itched to reach out and touch, to understand, to stop trembling.
The temple seemed alive in small ways. Tiny. Almost polite. Testing them. Pulling them, holding them, warning them.
And then—the library.
It was impossible. Not in size alone, though it dwarfed anything they had imagined. But in presence. Power. Weight.
Books rose to impossible heights. Scrolls floated in crystal tubes. Light drifted lazily, illuminating dust motes that sparkled like suspended stars. The air vibrated faintly, almost imperceptibly. It carried something like… heartbeat, almost musical, almost alive.
Kael stepped inside first, feeling the pull immediately. Dangerous. Not aggressive, not violent. But… magnetic. Compelling. Like the room itself knew he shouldn't be here, and yet it wanted him.
Elior ran his hands along spines. Every book vibrated faintly beneath his fingers. Familiar yet alien. Some carried a whisper of warmth, others a shiver of cold. Some titles were unreadable, written in scripts his eyes could not recognize—but his soul understood them. Somehow. I've been here before.
Aevrin's eyes scanned the room. Every shelf, every scroll, every crystal tube seemed alive, attentive. Shadows danced between the shelves, faint and quick, disappearing if looked at too long. He swallowed and reached for one of the floating scrolls. His fingers brushed it, and a faint pulse of energy ran through his hand. Quick, electric, and gone.
Then he noticed it.
A black book.
Silver symbols carved into the cover. Cold, but pulsing faintly, like a heartbeat of its own. The air around it seemed thicker. He felt it before he even touched it. Something… alive. Dangerous. Magnetic.
His hand hovered above it. Hesitation. A pull. Fear and attraction tangled in one sharp ache in his chest. Don't. Not yet. Something in his mind screamed. Something in his bones whispered.
Kael noticed. "Something wrong?"
"I don't know why… but something about this book is pulling me. Like it doesn't want me to walk away," Aevrin whispered, voice tight.
Elior stepped closer, chest tightening again. "Something about it feels… important. Like it's tied to us."
The shadows between the shelves shifted. Tiny, fleeting. Not threatening. Curious. Watching. Waiting.
Elior's fingers trembled, hovering above the book. He felt a pulse, a warmth that didn't belong in stone. And with that warmth came a tangle of memories—or what felt like memories. Flashes of battlefields, of fire, of screams, of hands reaching out, and a deep, aching sorrow that was his, theirs, and yet not.
Kael's hand twitched. He wanted to grab it, yet his heart screamed no. Every instinct, every cell, every heartbeat warned him. And yet…
Aevrin inhaled slowly. "I… I think it wants us."
The words barely escaped his lips, but the air seemed to shiver around them. The black book pulsed again, once. Faint. Slow. Alive.
Elior pressed a palm against it. Instantly, a shock—not pain, but a deep resonance that rattled his chest, made his knees weak. His vision blurred. And then… a voice. Not words, just feelings:You belong. You are remembered. You were forged for this. Stand. Protect. Do not fall.
He staggered backward, breath coming in short, uneven gasps. Kael grabbed his shoulder. Aevrin's hand trembled slightly, hovering over the book.
The three of them stood, connected to each other and to something vast, old, dangerous. Something that had slept for centuries and was waking because of them.
Outside, the mountain was still. Inside, the temple breathed. The black book pulsed faintly, as if it had waited a thousand years for this moment.
And somewhere, faint but undeniable, the past began to stir. Memories they did not know, powers they could not remember, oaths that had been long forgotten—all shifting, calling, demanding.
Kael, Elior, and Aevrin—three boys, lost, alone, unarmed against time and memory—stood at the threshold of something vast. Something dangerous. Something they were meant to face.
And the black book waited.
—by Aurea;"Some things lie buried not because they are forgotten, but because they are waiting for the right hands to remember them."