The words echoed through Ayan's mind long after the bridge fell silent.
Welcome back.
Two simple words.
Yet they struck harder than any revelation before them.
Ayan stood frozen near the battlements while the crimson doorway illuminated the mountains in red light. Around him, nobody seemed aware of what had just happened. The giant remained focused on the fracture. The figure watched the darkness beyond it. Lucien stood motionless beside Aelira.
Only Ayan had heard the message.
At least—
He hoped he was the only one.
The bridge pulsed softly beneath his skin. The sensation felt different now. Not stronger. Familiar. Like meeting someone after a long separation and realizing they had never truly forgotten you.
The thought unsettled him immediately.
Because the bridge wasn't supposed to know him.
The bridge wasn't supposed to know anyone.
Far beyond the silver fracture, the king slowly raised his head. Silver light drifted around him while the impossible city remained silent beneath the black sky. Millions of citizens continued watching the crimson doorway, completely unaware of the storm building around Ayan.
Then the king frowned.
The reaction was small.
Subtle.
Yet Ayan noticed it immediately.
The ancient ruler was looking directly at him.
Not at the bridge.
Not at the doorway.
At him.
A cold feeling settled in Ayan's chest.
The king had noticed something.
The figure seemed to notice as well.
Its gaze shifted away from the fracture and settled on Ayan.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then the ancient being sighed.
"It finally happened."
The statement immediately captured everyone's attention.
Lucien frowned.
"What happened?"
The figure remained silent for a moment.
Its expression looked strangely complicated.
Part concern.
Part resignation.
Part understanding.
"The bridge spoke to him."
The valley became silent.
Ayan felt his stomach tighten.
The giant immediately looked toward him.
The king remained motionless.
Even the endless shadows beyond the doorway seemed to become still.
Nobody looked surprised.
That realization frightened him more than anything else.
"You expected this."
The figure nodded slowly.
"Eventually."
Ayan stared.
The bridge pulsed once.
A faint memory surfaced.
Not a vision.
Not a scene.
A feeling.
Expectation.
Patience.
Waiting.
The sensation vanished before he could understand it.
Reality returned.
The figure watched him carefully.
"What did it say?"
The question echoed across both worlds.
Ayan hesitated.
For some reason, answering felt wrong.
Dangerous.
Yet keeping silent felt equally foolish.
Eventually, he exhaled.
"It said..."
The bridge pulsed.
"...welcome back."
Silence followed.
Absolute silence.
The giant closed his eyes.
The figure looked away.
Far beyond the silver fracture, the king slowly lowered his head.
Nobody spoke.
Nobody moved.
The reaction alone told Ayan everything.
The message mattered.
A lot.
The bridge continued pulsing steadily beneath his skin.
For several moments, the valley remained completely quiet. Then Lucien finally broke the silence.
"I don't like that."
The statement sounded absurdly simple.
Yet everyone seemed to agree.
The giant laughed bitterly.
"Neither do I."
The figure folded its arms.
"It means the process is accelerating."
Ayan immediately focused on those words.
"What process?"
The figure looked toward him.
"The return."
The answer raised more questions than it answered.
Unfortunately, that was becoming a common pattern.
The bridge reacted again.
A memory surfaced.
This one arrived more clearly than usual.
Ayan found himself standing inside the hall with the Throne of Paths. Endless silver roads stretched outward from the platform while representatives from countless civilizations filled the surrounding chamber.
The atmosphere felt tense.
Not fearful.
Anticipatory.
Everyone seemed to be waiting for someone.
The memory shifted.
The doors opened.
The crowd became silent.
A single figure entered.
Ayan couldn't see their face.
Couldn't identify their features.
Yet the reaction of the crowd remained unmistakable.
Relief.
The vision ended.
Reality returned.
Ayan inhaled sharply.
The bridge continued vibrating.
The newcomer noticed immediately.
Its expression darkened.
"You saw another one."
Ayan nodded.
The ancient being closed its eyes briefly.
"Of course you did."
The giant folded his arms.
"What was it this time?"
Ayan explained.
The reaction was immediate.
Nobody looked surprised.
Nobody looked confused.
They looked tired.
The realization bothered him.
Because it suggested they already knew exactly what those memories meant.
Far above, the crimson doorway trembled.
A ripple spread through the darkness beyond the fracture. Every visible shadow lowered itself further. Some were kneeling now. Others appeared almost prostrate.
The atmosphere had changed.
Again.
Whatever was approaching continued drawing closer.
The figure noticed first.
Its expression hardened.
The giant followed its gaze.
Then the king.
Then Lucien.
Finally, Ayan looked toward the fracture as well.
At first, he couldn't see anything.
Only darkness.
Only crimson light.
Only endless shadows.
Then he noticed movement.
Not a figure.
Not a shape.
The darkness itself seemed to be parting.
The realization sent a chill through him.
Something was making space.
The bridge pulsed violently.
Another memory surfaced.
A battlefield.
Ruined worlds.
Collapsing pathways.
Entire civilizations fleeing through broken gates.
The atmosphere felt desperate.
Hopeless.
At the center of the chaos stood a single figure.
The same blurred figure from before.
The one connected to the throne.
This time, however, Ayan noticed something new.
The figure wasn't running.
Everyone else was fleeing.
Everyone else was retreating.
The figure remained standing.
The memory shattered.
Reality returned.
Ayan froze.
The bridge continued pulsing.
The newcomer stared at him.
The giant stared at him.
The king stared at him.
Nobody spoke.
Then the newcomer sighed.
The sound carried centuries of exhaustion.
"I was hoping those memories would stay buried."
The statement immediately captured everyone's attention.
The figure narrowed its eyes.
"Why?"
The newcomer remained silent for several moments.
Its gaze drifted toward the crimson doorway.
Toward the darkness.
Toward whatever was approaching.
Then it answered.
"Because memories become identity."
A cold wind swept through the valley.
The crimson light intensified.
The bridge pulsed.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The newcomer looked directly at Ayan.
"And if those aren't memories..."
Silence followed.
The bridge reacted harder than ever before.
The newcomer smiled sadly.
"...then they're instructions."
Far beyond the doorway, the darkness split apart.
The endless shadows lowered their heads completely.
And for the first time—
Ayan saw a silhouette standing within the abyss.
Waiting.
Watching.
Remembering.