Rielun's POV:
The voice lingered in the clearing long after the echo faded.
"Oracle…"
Rielun's breath hitched. The sound wasn't loud — it was soft, frayed, like someone calling from underwater. But it carried a weight that made his bones ache.
It came again.
"Oracle…"
Elias moved instantly, stepping in front of Rielun with a sharpness none of them had seen before. His arm swept out, protective, almost instinctive.
"Stay behind me," he said, voice low. "Something is reaching for you."
Noctis's shadows surged forward, bristling like a living shield.
Sylas grabbed Rielun's wrist.
Aeris and Rowan turned toward the trees.
But the forest only watched.
The air thickened.
The ground hummed.
And Rielun's vision blurred—
A memory slammed into him.
Moonlight.
Soft moss beneath his knees.
A warm hand gripping his.
A voice — gentle, steady — speaking to him in a language he once knew.
He saw himself laughing.
He saw someone sitting beside him, shoulder to shoulder.
He saw a silver pendant resting against a broad chest.
He saw a silhouette leaning close, whispering something meant only for him.
But the face was missing.
The voice was muffled.
The identity was gone.
And instead of warmth blooming in his chest—
his heart ached.
A deep, hollow ache.
The kind that comes from losing someone who mattered more than anything.
Someone who shaped him.
Someone whose absence left a wound in the world.
He didn't remember this person.
He didn't know their name.
He didn't know their voice.
But his soul remembered the loss.
A grief without memory.
A sorrow without a face.
A mourning so old it felt like part of him.
Whoever that person was…
they had been his protector.
His companion.
His first guardian.
And something terrible had happened because of him.
The memory shattered.
Rielun gasped, stumbling. Elias caught him before he hit the ground.
"That was a shard," Elias whispered. "Your past is waking."
The forest reacted immediately.
The path ahead split into two — a perfect fork, each trail identical. Same trees. Same moss. Same stones. Even the air felt the same.
A trick.
A test.
Sylas frowned. "This wasn't here before."
Aeris narrowed his eyes. "It's an illusion."
Rowan muttered, "Which way?"
Only Elias stepped forward, eyes half‑lidded, listening to something beneath the earth.
"The left path is false," he said quietly. "It leads nowhere."
"How do you know?" Rowan asked.
Elias touched the ground. "The Haven's magic hums beneath the true path. Faint… but there."
They followed him.
Rowan tried to walk without limping, but every few steps his breath hitched. His side throbbed with each movement, and his leg dragged slightly behind him — the pain clearly worsening.
Aeris noticed immediately.
His expression softened, all the usual brightness draining into something quiet and serious.
"Rowan," he murmured, stepping closer, "you're hurting."
"I'm fine," Rowan muttered, though his voice was tight.
Aeris shook his head. "You don't have to pretend. Not with us. Not with me."
He moved under Rowan's arm, supporting him with steady hands — no dramatics, no teasing, just warmth and worry.
"Lean on me," Aeris said softly. "Let me help."
Rowan hesitated, pride flickering… but the bond tugged at him, gentle and insistent. He exhaled shakily and allowed Aeris to take some of his weight.
Aeris's grip tightened, protective. "Good. Just breathe. I've got you."
Rielun watched them with soft concern, the bond humming between all three of them.
They didn't get far before the forest shifted again.
A Hollow creature stepped into their path.
It was shaped like a bird — but wrong.
Its wings were tattered.
Its eyes were hollow pits.
Its feathers dripped black sap.
Its breath came out as a rasping hiss.
It stared directly at Rielun.
Noctis moved first, shadows snapping forward like spears.
Sylas yanked Rielun behind him.
Aeris pulled Rowan back, shielding him.
Elias whispered a curse.
The creature tilted its head.
And whispered, in a voice like cracking bone:
"He remembers…"
Then it dissolved into ash.
Silence fell.
The ground beneath them hummed again — stronger this time. A faint silver mist rose from the soil. A crescent symbol glowed on a nearby stone, brighter than before.
The Haven was reacting.
Rielun stepped toward the symbol—
And another memory ripped through him.
Not a fragment.
Not a flicker.
A death.
Moonlight.
Cold air.
The world spinning.
He was being carried — arms wrapped around him, strong and shaking.
Someone was running with him through the Hollow, breath ragged, footsteps frantic.
He felt blood on his skin.
His own.
He felt a hand gripping his tightly.
The guardian's hand.
They burst into a vast chamber of roots and silver light — the Heart of the Hollow.
The air thrummed with ancient power.
The guardian's voice — muffled, distorted — shouted something desperate.
Begging.
Pleading.
Rielun felt the Hollow respond.
A pulse.
A refusal.
The guardian screamed again, voice cracking with terror and grief.
Rielun's vision blurred.
His body felt heavy.
Cold.
He reached up — weakly — touching the guardian's cheek.
"It's… alright," he whispered, though he couldn't hear his own voice clearly. "I will go… where all tears of the Moon go…"
The guardian shook his head violently, refusing, clutching him tighter.
Rielun's breath faltered.
His heartbeat slowed.
The world dimmed.
The last thing he felt was the guardian's arms around him — shaking, breaking — as his life slipped away.
And then—
A scream.
A raw, soul‑shredding scream.
The guardian cried out a name — a nickname — the one he had given Rielun long ago.
The memory shattered.
Rielun collapsed.
The guardians shouted his name — distant, muffled, fading.
The last thing he heard before darkness swallowed him was the same voice from the clearing, closer now, desperate:
"Oracle… please…"