Kael stared at the portal of pure ice in the Gate of the Veil. It shone with a blinding white light, and the surrounding air was so cold and scentless that it felt as if it drained every sense away.
There was no sound, only a deep, unnatural silence, as though every memory had been erased.
The Veil of Oblivion. The erasure of memory, the absolute void. This was the trial that frightened him the most. Forgetting Elara, forgetting his mission, forgetting himself.
Anya stood beside him, her face tense. "This is the most treacherous Veil, Kael. There are no illusions to confront, no rage to calm. There is only emptiness—absence. The Ash will try to make you forget everything: every memory, every emotion. The key is to hold on to your most precious memories. The ones that define you. And your mission. Don't let yourself be emptied."
Lyra, on his other side, clasped her hands tightly, her silver eyes gleaming with unusual gravity. "Your Sleeping Flame is your burning memory, Kael. It's the one thing the Ash cannot completely drain, because it is your deepest essence. If you feel yourself losing your way, think of the flame in your dream garden. Think of the gem that is growing. They are your anchor."
Kael thought of his dream garden. The flame at its center was now a small, steady hearth, and the golden roots had formed a dense, resilient network. The tiny green gem pulsed faintly, a symbol of life and hope—something the Ash could not touch. Those were his memories, his reason.
He stepped into the vortex.
The air pulled him in—but not violently. It was a sensation of being emptied, as if the air were being drawn out of his lungs not to suffocate him, but simply to leave him hollow. His senses faded one by one. Smell, sound, even the feeling of his own body. It felt as though he were becoming transparent, immaterial.
Kael found himself standing, floating in an infinite, colorless void.
No lights, no shadows.
Only an absolute white, a total absence of anything. He tried to look at his hands, but he could not see them clearly. They seemed to be dissolving into the void. The golden flame on his palm was faint, almost invisible in the blinding brightness.
He tried to speak, but heard no sound. It was as if his own voice had been erased. A creeping fear rose within him—not a fear that made him shiver, but something more insidious: the fear of forgetting why he was afraid. It was oblivion, advancing.
As Kael drifted in that emptiness, his memories began to fade. Elara's face blurred, her name turning into a distant whisper he struggled to reach. The faces of Anya, Lyra, Elian… all blended into a single, indistinct smear. His mission—his fight against the Ash—melted into meaninglessness. He felt light, too light, as though he were about to dissolve entirely into the white.
Then, from the blank void, a figure slowly took shape, not with a sudden appearance but like an image being gradually brought into focus.
She was a woman, her features perfect, almost angelic, but her eyes were completely empty and expressionless, two dark wells. She wore a white, flowing dress that blended into the surrounding nothing.
It was Solara, the perfect embodiment of oblivion—its final attempt to erase Kael.
"There is nothing to remember, Keeper," her voice whispered, cold and crystalline, echoing directly inside his mind without sound. "There is no reason to continue. Let go. Let memory become ash. You will find true peace in the absence."
Kael felt his mind buckle, tempted by that peace. No pain, no suffering. Only nothingness. For a moment, Elara's name slipped away entirely. He couldn't remember who she was.
But then—an echo. Not a voice, not an image.
A sensation.
The warmth of a small hand in his. The smell of freshly cut grass. The faint glow of the green gem in his dream garden. The flame that refused to go out.
His Sleeping Flame in his chest, though weak, continued to pulse. It was not a flame of memory, but a flame of existence. His deepest essence—the thing that made him Kael. His core, Finn's final lesson.
Kael clung to that rhythm. He didn't force the memories back. He let the Sleeping Flame guide him. He felt the tiny green gem in his dream garden pulse.
Life.
He reached out toward Solara, his golden flame trembling. Not to attack her, but to touch her—to feel her lack of memory.
The lesson of the Sanctuary: pierce the corruption.
This was not madness. Not rage. It was oblivion.
When his hand brushed Solara's form, Kael felt the most intense cold he had ever known, but he ignored it. A wave of absolute silence and emptiness crashed against his mind. No images, only erasure.
But Kael held tight to his Sleeping Flame, letting it burn—not as a blinding fire, but as a steady guiding light, a constant in that nothingness.
And then Kael felt something unexpected.
A faint, almost imperceptible echo of pain coming from Solara. Not the anger he had seen before, nor despair. It was the sorrow of having forgotten herself, the sadness of becoming nothing. It was the true Solara, buried deep beneath layers of oblivion. She wasn't evil. She was lost.
I am… empty.
Solara's whisper echoed in Kael's mind, this time with ancient, profound sadness—like a tearless cry.
"No," Kael answered, his voice resonating through the void. He didn't try to restore her memories. He couldn't. But he could give her a point of reference. "You're not empty. You are the keeper of memory. You are Solara. The Founder."
As Kael spoke, the flame in his palm expanded, illuminating the void around Solara. It did not project memories—it projected presence. Kael felt a bond—not a struggle, but a reconnection.
Solara's form flickered.
Her empty eyes trembled, and for the briefest moment, a blue spark flashed in their depths—a trace of her old light. A sign that Solara was still there, trapped, but not extinguished.
The absolute white began to ripple.
Kael felt a pull—not a violent one, but a directional one. The void split open with a single deep crack, from which a warmer light flowed, carrying a faint scent of metal and stone. It was the exit.
The Veil of Oblivion had been overcome.
Kael felt his senses return, one by one. Sound, smell, the weight of his body. He found himself back in the Deep Foundation. His memories were all there—more vivid than ever, as if carved in fire.
Anya and Lyra rushed to him.
"Kael…" Lyra breathed, her eyes glossy. "We felt your flame resist the void. You gave Solara… a memory of herself!"
Anya knelt beside him, her gaze sharp. "You found her core, Kael. Even in the deepest oblivion, her essence wasn't gone. It's incredible."
Kael lifted his head. His body felt light despite the exhaustion. His Sleeping Flame was now a radiant, powerful blaze—an actual brazier burning in the center of his chest. In his dream garden, the flame had grown even more, and the golden roots had formed a solid, unbreakable foundation. And the green gem was no longer tiny—it had become a small, vibrant crystal, pulsing with its own light.
Beside it, Kael saw something new: a little, almost invisible pale-green sprout pushing through the soil.
Life.
His flame had nourished something.
Master Elian approached. "You have passed the Veil of Oblivion, Kael. You have shown that not even the deepest void can extinguish true essence. You not only resisted the Ash—you touched Solara in a way no one thought possible. This is a sign."
Kael looked up at him. "Master, I need a break," he said.
Elian smiled. "I wondered when you'd say that. You've been pushing through one veil after another—sooner or later, the moment to rest was bound to come. Lyra, take him to his room. He looks worn."
Lyra nodded.
"Thank you for the support, I really appreciate it. See you later."
"You're welcome. Have a good rest," Anya replied.
"Thank you," Elian added.
Kael followed Lyra through the glowing stone corridors of the Academy, warm and quiet. Though the trials were over, a deep weariness—more mental than physical—weighed on him. Facing the Veils of the Soul had drained him, not only from the effort, but from the truths revealed and the choices now before him.
"It's a simple room," Lyra said softly as they stopped before a door of pale wood carved with protective symbols. "But it's quiet and shielded. You'll be able to rest without interference."
Kael nodded, but didn't enter right away. He turned to Lyra, her figure radiating an austere calm under the faint glow of a gem set into the wall.
"Lyra," Kael began, hesitant. "The Veils… the Veils of the Soul. They showed me my doubts. They tempted me, provoked me, and nearly erased my memory. And… I almost failed the last trial today—for a moment." He took a breath, eyes filled with serious curiosity. "When you crossed them… what did you feel? What did they show you?"
Lyra met his gaze without blinking. Kael sensed something in her—a hint of coldness and unyielding determination beneath her usual serenity.
"The Veils have their own twisted logic," she said. "They don't test obedience or courage—they test Will. The will to exist, to persist, even when everything is lost."
She paused, memories flickering across her expression.
"They didn't tempt me, Kael. They showed me everything that was taken from me. All the wounds that can never heal. They showed me the day I lost my people, the Keepers dearest to me, the day I was forced to give up everything I was."
For a moment, ancient flames seemed to pass through her eyes.
"Every single trial was a direct attack—a weight so crushing that I wanted only oblivion. But I didn't step back. In every vision, in every shard of pain, I poured my rage into it. I attacked the memory. I attacked the pain. I fought the Veils themselves. I didn't yield, didn't negotiate, didn't reason. I just endured with the only weapon I had left: my fury, and the burning desire to prevent it from ever happening again. I crossed through suffering with the same violence with which suffering had crossed through me. And so, I passed."
Kael remained silent, absorbing the brutality of her answer. His trial had been a subtle deception; hers, a direct assault. Both required unbreakable will, but his had been bent, while hers had been forged.
"Thank you, Lyra. That… helps me."
"Rest," she ordered gently, her voice returning to its calm, encouraging tone. "Tomorrow you will need every bit of strength."
Kael entered the room. It was bare: a low bed with a dark wool blanket, a rough wooden table, and a small source of fresh water. He fell onto the cot, Lyra's words echoing in his mind: I attacked the pain.
Sleep claimed him almost instantly, a black, dreamless void. There was no confusion like after his previous battles—only a necessary forgetting. His body, still tense, finally surrendered. His muscles loosened, his breathing slowed.
Kael slept not like a hero preparing for glory, but like a man who had narrowly escaped ruin.
Even in the Dream Realm, one could sleep.
But because the realm itself was a continuous dream, the sleep of its inhabitants was without dreams…
When Kael awoke, the first sign that it wasn't night was the soft, golden light filtering through a high opening in the wall. Dawn.
He sat up abruptly, his fatigue gone, replaced by cold, sharp clarity. His mind was clear. He remembered everything: the Veils, the emotions, the obstacles, and the new burden.
The resting time was over.
He got out of bed. He washed and prepared himself with only one intention: to act.
He opened the door and stepped out, finding the corridor empty. Without hesitation, Kael walked back the way he had come, toward the heart of the Academy. Soon, he felt the air vibrate—a tingle of unused energy.
Minutes later, he emerged into the great Portal Hall. It was still empty, but the atmosphere was dense, charged with the silent power radiating from the Veil Gates.
Kael had returned. He was ready.
Elian, Lyra, and Anya arrived shortly after. They greeted one another, then Elian turned to Kael.
"The next Veil," he said, pointing to the crack in the Veil Gate, now glowing with a shifting yellow light that radiated unease—almost betrayal, "is the Veil of Fear. There, Kael, you will face your greatest fears, your phobias, your deepest nightmares. It will be a trial of courage. And Solara will be there once again, ready to use your own fears against you."
He had faced loss, denial, madness, and rage.
But fear was a different enemy—one he knew well.
Would he face the Veil like Lyra?
Or would he run away?
.
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