Chapter Eleven: What Lies Beneath the Path
The voice was unlike any they had heard before. It was like an echo emerging from the depths of time itself, carrying in its resonance memories older than the mountains, deeper than the oceans.
The ground beneath the Crossroads of Memories split open.
Not a violent split like an earthquake, but like a flower opening slowly. Plates of ice bent outward in concentric circles, revealing a staircase carved from a material none had ever seen: not ice, not stone, but frozen light.
Caleb, still standing where he had dropped the box, looked at the staircase, then at the Queen. "What is this?"
The Queen looked more astonished than anyone. "I do not know. I never knew there was anything beneath."
The old man from Elidor stepped forward cautiously. "The legends… speak of the 'Ancient Guardians.' Those who were here before everything."
"Guardians of what?" asked Sion.
"The Path. The legend says the Path was not made; it grew. Like a tree's root. And there were those who tended it."
The voice came again from the depths:
"Come. The time has come."
They exchanged glances. Then, Sion was the first to descend.
The staircase was carved with astonishing precision. Each step was transparent like water, solid like diamond. When his first foot landed, the step lit up with a pale blue color, and the light passed to the next step, then the next, as if the staircase was breathing a welcome.
They all descended: Sion, the Queen, Caleb, Kairn, Elara, the leaders from all factions. The others remained above, waiting anxiously.
The descent took minutes, but it felt like hours. The air grew heavier, purer. Not the dry air of ice, but the air of a place untouched by time.
And below… a city.
But not a city like Elidor or the Confluence. It was a city of light and memory. Its buildings were transparent, and in each building, scenes from the past played on repeat. Scenes from the lives of people who had lived and died thousands of years ago.
And in the center of the city, in a circular plaza, they sat.
Three people. Or… they weren't quite people.
The first: an old woman, her skin like ancient tree bark, her eyes like the first morning stars.
The second: a middle-aged man, his features hard as stone, but his eyes warm as sun on snow.
The third: a child, or what seemed like a child, but their eyes held a wisdom greater than the old woman and the man combined.
The old woman looked at them and smiled. A smile that held all the world's condolences and all its hopes.
"Finally," she said, her voice like the rustle of old leaves in a gentle wind. "We have waited long."
The Queen took a step forward. "Who are you?"
"Guardians of Memory," said the man. "And the First Keepers of the Path."
"And why did you not appear before?" asked Caleb, his voice laced with ancient skepticism.
The child—who did not move, yet whose words came clearly—said, "Because the time was not right. Because memory… must discover itself."
Sion looked around. The transparent city was alive. In the buildings, ancient people lived their lives: laughing, weeping, loving, betraying. Everything was recorded here. Every memory lost on the surface, preserved here.
"This is… a library," he said.
"Not a library," said the old woman. "A seed."
"A seed of what?"
"Of a new world. Of a world that does not forget."
Kairn looked at one of the buildings. And saw himself. A child playing with his father, Eron. Tears filled his eyes. "Why… why do you keep this?"
"Because what is forgotten… repeats itself," said the man. "And you have repeated much."
Elara, who had been silent, stepped forward. "You… were here all along. You saw everything."
"And we saw you learn," said the old woman. "We saw the Queen choose forgiveness. We saw Caleb choose anger. We saw Sion… choose the third way."
The Queen raised her hands. "Then you know… everything."
"And we know more," said the child. "We know why the Path exists. We know why the ice. We know why… you are."
There was a pause. "And now, it is time for the complete truth."
The child raised his small hand. And in the center of the plaza, an image formed.
Not a memory. But… the truth.
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They saw the world as it was before the Path:
A fertile land, warm rivers, a sun that set only briefly. And humans and ice-folk living together truly. Not as in the Queen's memory. Here, the mixing was complete. Children were born with every degree of color: pale skin, ice-blue eyes, human-black hair. And they were happy.
Then they saw the night everything changed.
A night that was not a human betrayal. Nor was it fear.
It was an accident.
A laboratory. Scientists, humans and ice-folk together. Conducting an experiment: merging ice power with human warmth. To create clean, endless energy.
And something went out of control.
The child in the image pointed. "Look."
The explosion was not an ordinary explosion. It was an explosion in the very fabric of reality. And its waves… froze emotions.
No. Separated them.
Made joy float as separate clouds. Made sorrow settle as separate mist. Made fear turn into black clouds.
And the people who were in the laboratory… were transformed.
Three of them became the Ancient Guardians. And the Queen… was the fourth.
But the waves of the explosion erased her memory. Made her forget she was a scientist. Made her think she was a queen.
"No…" whispered the Queen, seeing herself in the image: a woman in a white coat, holding instruments, smiling at her colleagues. "I was… a scientist."
"You were the mastermind," said the child. "And the explosion… was a calculation error. A human and ice-folk error together."
Caleb was trembling. "So… there was no betrayal?"
"There was an accident. And fear of its consequences. And that fear… transformed into legend. Transformed into 'betrayal' because the truth… was more painful."
The old man pointed to the image. "The explosion separated emotions. Made people forget. And the myths began: the myth of the Ice Queen. The myth of the betrayal. The myth of the Eternal Path."
"And the Path itself…" Sion began.
"Was an attempt at repair," the old woman finished. "The Queen's tears… were not from sorrow. They were from effort. She was trying to repair what she had broken. And the Path… was the trace of her attempt."
Everything became clear:
No queen. No betrayal. No heroes, no villains.
A scientific accident. An attempt at repair. And a legend woven to understand what could not be understood.
The Queen fell to her knees. "All this time… I thought I was a victim. And I was… responsible."
"You were trying to repair," said the child gently. "And you never stopped. Even when you forgot, your effort continued. The Path kept growing. Trying to mend."
Sion looked at the transparent city. At the memories. "And this place?"
"A backup," said the old woman. "When the explosion happened, we created this place. To preserve the true memories. And we waited… until you found your way to us."
"And why now?" asked Elara.
"Because you were about to repeat the mistake," said the man. "You were about to build a new world… on false myths. And that… would lead to a new explosion, after another thousand years."
Caleb laughed. A bitter laugh. "So we were all wrong. Everyone."
"But you were learning," said the child. "And that is what matters."
The Queen stood up. "What do we do now?"
"Now…" said the old woman, "we give you the choice."
"The choice of what?"
"To continue the myth. Or to begin the truth."
The child raised his hand again. And two paths appeared in the air:
The First Path: The World of Myth. Where the Queen remains a queen, the Path remains a path, and the memories remain preserved here below.
The Second Path: The World of Truth. Where the myth dissolves, everyone remembers everything, and they begin anew, with all the pain of truth.
"The choice is yours," said the man. "For everyone here. A vote. A collective decision."
"And what will happen to you?" Sion asked the Guardians.
The child smiled. "We will return to what we were. We will return to being… memories."
"You will die?"
"We will be complete."
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End of Chapter Eleven
The hardest choice yet:
The myth that unites but is a lie?
Or the truth that may divide but is real?
And all the characters, from all factions, stand in the underground city, looking at the two glowing paths in the air.
And the Ancient Guardians wait. They wait for the decision of those they have protected for a thousand years.
Sion looks at the Queen—the forgotten scientist.
Looks at Caleb—the son who was led astray by half-truths.
Looks at Kairn—the victim who became a bridge.
Looks at Elara—the future historian.
And he knows: whatever the decision… there will be no going back.
Because some truths, once known… change everything forever.
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The vote begins in Chapter Twelve.
What will you choose: Myth or Truth? 🕯️📜🔍