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**CHAPTER 40
Shadows That Remember My Name
The wind howled across the broken field as if trying to warn Arine that he was stepping into a place he had already died before. He didn't know why the thought came to him—he had never been here, never seen these ruins, never walked this dead soil. But the moment his boots scraped the gray earth, a sharp pressure lanced through his skull, like fingers digging into his memories.
He staggered.
"Arine!" Lira rushed to his side, steadying him with a firm grip. Her green eyes scanned his face. "What's wrong? Did something attack you?"
"No," he muttered, even though it felt like a lie.
Or maybe the truth was worse: nothing had attacked him, yet something inside him struck back.
The ground ahead stretched into a wide basin of shattered pillars, half-melted stones, and a series of strange markings etched deep into the earth—circles within circles, forming a pattern that pulsed faintly when the sunlight hit it.
The place felt wrong.
It felt like a memory he never lived.
Arine exhaled slowly. "This place… it feels familiar."
Lira frowned. "Familiar? Arine, this region wasn't even on the maps the guild gave us. No one comes here. No one is supposed to."
"I know," he whispered.
But the familiarity strengthened. His heartbeat matched the rhythm of the faint pulsing marks on the ground. Each throb of light felt like an echo of something lodged deep within him.
He walked forward. Lira followed, tense and alert.
As they reached the center of the ruins, the wind abruptly died. Silence swallowed everything—not even the rustle of leaves, not a single cry of distant monsters.
Just silence.
Then… a whisper.
"Arine…"
Lira's hand snapped to her dagger. "Who's there!?"
Arine froze.
The whisper hadn't come from the ruins.
It hadn't come from a monster.
It hadn't even come from behind them.
It came from inside him.
He pressed a palm to his forehead as pain stabbed through him again—sharp, hot, and blinding. Images flashed behind his eyes: fire swallowing a city, a crying child reaching out to him, shadows bending around a small, broken body.
And a voice—cold, distant, yet painfully familiar.
"You shouldn't have come back."
"Back?" Arine whispered, breathing hard. "Why would I… come back?"
"Arine, talk to me," Lira said, gripping both his shoulders, forcing him to look at her. "What are you hearing?"
He struggled to focus. He didn't want to worry her, but he also couldn't deny the truth anymore.
"There's a voice. It knows my name."
Lira stiffened. "A memory?"
"No," Arine said, shaking his head slowly. "More like… someone who's been waiting."
Before she could respond, the markings on the ground lit up in a sudden burst. Rings of pale blue light spun outward beneath their feet. The stones vibrated. The air crackled.
Lira drew her blade. "Arine, something's activating!"
But Arine wasn't looking at the light.
He was staring at the shadow standing at the far edge of the ruin.
It was shaped like a person—his height, his build—and yet it flickered, like it was made of half-remembered darkness.
Lira spun to face it. "Who are you!?"
The shadow didn't answer her.
It raised its head.
And Arine felt his heart stop—
Because the shape's face…
was almost his.
Not exactly. Not fully. But close enough that his stomach twisted.
The shadow tilted its head, watching him with featureless eyes.
"You came back," it whispered, its voice barely more than breath. "Even though you were never meant to return."
Arine took a step forward before he realized he was moving.
"Who are you?"
The shadow flickered.
"You forgot me," it said, voice full of something like grief. "You forgot everything."
Arine swallowed hard.
Sweat slid down his temple.
Every instinct told him to run, but another force pulled him closer.
Lira stepped in front of him. "Stay behind me, Arine."
"No," Arine murmured. "I need to hear this."
As he approached, the shadow dissolved slightly, shifting like smoke in a storm.
"You left us," it whispered. "Left us in the fire. Left me in the dark."
Arine's breath caught.
"I don't understand," he said, voice shaking. "I didn't leave anyone. I've never—"
"Never?" the shadow echoed, with a sound almost like laughter. "You've lived this all before."
Arine stopped cold.
The world tilted.
The ruins blurred.
Something inside him split open.
Before…?
Lira touched his arm. "Arine, step back. Now."
But he couldn't.
Because deep inside him, beneath all the confusion and fear, a buried truth stirred.
He whispered:
"…Have I been here before?"
The shadow stretched toward him, its fingers reaching—not to attack, but to touch his own hand.
"You have died here," it said softly. "More times than you remember."
A chill ripped up Arine's spine.
More times…?
Lira grabbed him. "Arine, we're leaving. Right now."
But the shadow's final words rooted him to the ground:
"And each time you die… the world resets."
The light burst.
The ruins shook.
And Arine's vision shattered into white