Title: Crimson Thrones: Volume 144 – Fractured Realities
By Sabbir Ahmed
The Shrouded Veil retreated after the Mirror's destruction—but only to plan deeper, darker moves. They had learned that direct assault could be countered by unity and memory. Now, they sought a weapon far more insidious: the Fractured Realms, a manipulation of reality itself, where perception could overwrite truth, and memory could be stolen without a trace.
Across Veyrath, subtle distortions began to appear. Rivers ran backward for hours, stars blinked out and returned altered, and entire neighborhoods awoke to streets that had never existed. The Unforgotten felt it immediately: their memories were no longer absolute. Some moments vanished from minds, leaving gaping holes in experience, while others warped into alternate possibilities.
Seraphine convened the council of the Unforgotten atop the Crimson Throne. "We have faced illusions and mirrors," she said, voice steady, "but now the very world bends against us. Reality itself is under siege."
Kaelen placed a hand on her shoulder, quiet fire simmering along his palm. "We are not powerless. But this is no longer a battle of memory alone. We must anchor ourselves to choice, to love, and to unity—otherwise the Shrouded Veil will rewrite everything we are."
The child of continuity appeared in the council chamber, moving like a shadow yet radiating certainty. "Fractured Realms are not merely illusion—they are potential made weapon. To fight them, you must step inside and confront what could be, not just what was."
A small group of the Unforgotten volunteered. Among them, Seraphine and Kaelen led, stepping through a shimmering rift into the first Fractured Realm. Time was fractured here: dawn and midnight collided, rivers flowed upside-down, and shadows moved ahead of their owners. Every thought they carried manifested as reality—fears, doubts, desires—all made tangible.
The Shrouded Veil awaited them within, appearing not as enemies, but as twisted versions of themselves: Seraphine as a tyrant, Kaelen as a betrayer, Unforgotten children turned into monsters of doubt. Each illusion was crafted to break bonds, to fracture unity, to destroy the strength that had carried them through the Mirror.
Seraphine gritted her teeth, gripping Kaelen's hand. "We define reality here," she said. "Not them. Not the fractures. We."
Kaelen's quiet fire flared, weaving through the realm, stabilizing the fissures in perception. Together, they pushed forward, confronting each illusion, each fragment of doubt, and reclaiming it as truth.
But every step came at a cost: every victory in the Fractured Realm left a mark on the mind, a strain that even the Unforgotten could feel. This war was no longer just for Veyrath—it was for their very selves.
Outside, the Shrouded Veil whispered:
If you survive this, you will not return unchanged. Reality bends for no one, not even kings or queens.
The battle had begun. And in the Fractured Realms, no one could tell which version of Veyrath—or themselves—would endure.