The night after the ambush refused to end.
Even long after the flames of the battlefield died out, Hiro kept seeing the same moment over and over — the spear grazing his ribs, the soldiers who bowed to him a day ago now lunging with eyes empty of loyalty, and above them all… the cold, unreadable stare of the god who once blessed his birth.
He hadn't slept.
The forest was quiet, except for the restless wind brushing through the deodar leaves. Hiro sat against a tree trunk, his breath fogging the cold air, fingers tapping against his knee in a small, unsteady rhythm. He didn't realize he was doing it.
Rion watched him from across the campfire, tossing a small pebble in his hand."Still awake?"
Hiro didn't answer at first. His eyes were fixed on the dying flames.
"I keep thinking," he finally murmured, "If a god chooses to abandon a prince, does that make the prince cursed… or the god afraid?"
Rion stopped tossing the pebble.
"That's the kind of question that gets people killed," he said quietly. "Or crowned."
Hiro almost smiled at that — almost.
But the truth sat heavy in his chest. Ever since the betrayal, ever since Kiyro's trembling hand pushed him off the cliff in the palace court, something inside Hiro had cracked open. A power he once begged for and was denied — now pulsed under his skin like a second heartbeat.
But power didn't erase hurt.
Rion leaned forward. "What exactly did you see? Before you fell."
Hiro closed his eyes. "A face I prayed to my whole life… looking away."
He didn't say the rest — the instant where he felt the divine seal on his soul shatter like glass. The moment he realized the god he worshipped was terrified of him remembering something.
A memory that wasn't supposed to survive.
He exhaled slowly. "I need answers."
Rion poked the fire with a stick. "From who? The gods won't talk. The royals want you dead. And if your power keeps acting up, the entire Eastern Dominion will sense it."
"I don't need them," Hiro said, standing. "I'll find the truth myself."
The wind rustled sharply, as if reacting to his resolve.
A faint, silver glow pulsed beneath Hiro's collarbone — the mark that returned only after his powers awakened fully. He pressed a hand over it.
Rion's eyes widened. "It's activating again?"
"Not the same way." Hiro's voice tightened. "It's reacting to something nearby. Something old."
Rion stood up too. "Old like… relic-old or death-old?"
"Both."
Before either could move, the earth beneath them trembled. Not violently — no cracks, no collapse — just a subtle vibration, like footsteps buried deep inside the ground.
Followed by a whisper.
Not a voice. A memory.Something long-dead brushing against Hiro's mind.
"Left for dead twice, crowned only once…"
Hiro staggered back, gripping the nearest tree.
Rion grabbed his arm. "Hiro? Hey—hey! Don't pass out on me."
But Hiro wasn't losing consciousness. He was seeing.
The forest around him dissolved into sweeping darkness. In its place rose a colossal obsidian gate, half-buried, sleeping beneath earth and centuries of silence. Chains thicker than tree trunks wrapped around it, etched with runes that glowed with dying light.
He stepped forward in the vision — drawn, compelled.
A presence stirred behind the gate.
Not gentle. Not divine.
Ancient.
Watching him. Recognizing him.
Hiro's breath hitched. "Who… are you?"
The answer came like a distant roar drowned in water.
"You were mine."
The vision snapped.
Hiro collapsed to one knee, gasping. The world returned — the trees, the fire, Rion's panicked voice.
"Talk to me, Hiro! What did you see?!"
Hiro wiped the sweat from his forehead, heart pounding erratically.
"Something sealed," he whispered. "A relic… no, not a relic. A prison."
Rion's expression hardened. "Where?"
Hiro pointed to the ridge behind the forest — a jagged slope of black stone.
"The gate is buried under that mountain."
Rion ran a hand through his hair. "And you want to go there, right? Because we love making stupid decisions?"
Hiro didn't deny it.
He tied his hair back, adjusted the bracers on his forearms, and stepped toward the ridge.
Every instinct screamed danger.
But another instinct whispered something else — truth.
"I'm done obeying gods," Hiro said quietly. "If they abandoned me, then I'll uncover what they feared."
Rion sighed, grabbed his blade, and followed.
"Fine. But if something huge crawls out of that mountain, I'm blaming you."
The two advanced through the trees, the moon following them like a silent witness. The deeper they went, the more the forest changed — older, thicker, as if time walked slower here.
Halfway up the slope, the ground shifted again. A low hum spread through the stone, almost like the mountain itself was breathing.
Rion stepped back. "This is a bad idea. A fantastic bad idea."
Hiro didn't stop.
Because the mark on his chest was burning — not painfully, but like an echo.
Like recognition.
When they reached the cliffside, Hiro brushed away the thick vines covering the stone.
And there it was.
A small section of the same obsidian material from his vision. Cold, smooth, untouched by erosion.
Rion froze completely.
"Hiro… this isn't a mountain. It's the top of a buried structure."
Hiro pressed his palm against the stone.
The mark on his chest glowed.
And the mountain answered.
A faint line of light ran through the obsidian surface, splitting outward like veins waking from a long sleep.
The earth rumbled.
Rion stepped back immediately. "Okay—NO. Nope. We're not opening cursed doors at midnight. Hiro, stop touching things!"
But Hiro couldn't.
Because the gate spoke again — not in words, but in a feeling.
Recognition.Ownership.Return.
And then, in a whisper softer than breath:
"Come home."
Hiro staggered back, spine going cold.
Rion grabbed him. "You look like you saw death."
Hiro swallowed, voice trembling but controlled.
"No… I think I saw something worse."
He looked at the gate, heart racing.
"I think I saw my past."