Chapter Eight: The Realm of Broken Hearts
This gate was different.
Not a blinding light nor a suffocating darkness, but a strange blend of gentle warmth and ghostly coldness. As Rayan passed through it, he didn't feel the rush as before—no spinning, no screaming, not even the sound of wind. Just… a heartbeat.
A single, powerful beat, as if it came from a heart larger than the world itself.
Then the scene unfolded.
He stood in the heart of a vast city, its streets paved with pinkish stone, its towers sculpted from transparent crystals that shimmered with emotions like spiritual mirrors. Yet, the city wasn't alive—it was weighed down by a heavy silence. Windows were closed. Doors locked. The air itself carried sorrow.
"Where am I?" he whispered.
A voice answered—familiar, yet not external.
"You are in the Realm of Broken Hearts."
The Gate Spirit's voice returned, but this time, it sounded softer, as if in reverence of this sacred place.
"Here, the hearts of those who have endured pain are tested. Those who haven't made peace with their past will be trapped within it."
Rayan stepped forward cautiously. As he walked, he noticed something strange: the crystal structures along the streets showed moving images—scenes, like living memories.
A child losing his mother to war. A young woman crying over a lover's corpse. An old man burning letters that never reached their destination.
Then… he saw himself.
Inside a large crystal, a memory unfolded. He was thirteen, sitting on the steps of an old house. His eyes were wet with tears, his hands stained with blood. Beside him—his father's body. Blood spreading across his chest.
"No… this can't be real…"
But the scene continued. He heard his mother screaming his name. Men running toward him. He remembered.
The day he lost his father.
He shouted, "Stop!" and struck the crystal. But it didn't break. The scene only became clearer. The pain returned, raw and deep.
The Gate Spirit whispered again:
"If you do not face your sorrow… it will consume you."
⸻
A long street opened ahead, echoing with the moans of forgotten souls. He walked forward, despite the dread. Each step was heavy, as if the earth resisted his passage.
Then he heard a voice.
"Rayan…"
He froze.
The voice was clear. Warm. Familiar.
"Father?"
He turned—and saw a man at the end of the street. Shadowed, with obscured features, yet Rayan knew.
He ran, driven by instinct and longing.
But as he approached, the man's features faded. He became a shade. Then vanished.
Leaving behind a final whisper: "You are not to blame for my death."
Pain surged in Rayan's chest. How many nights had he cursed himself? How many times did he carry guilt like armor?
And now… for the first time, he doubted it.
⸻
He wandered through alleyways, exhausted. More memories haunted him—Asif's death, his mother washing blood from her hands, the betrayal of an old friend. Each pain laid bare before him.
Then, at the end of a narrow corridor, he saw a small gate.
In front of it—a little girl.
She was no older than ten, with black hair and wide eyes filled with tears. She sat in silence.
"Who are you?" he asked.
She looked up. "I am your heart… when it first broke."
He gasped. He didn't expect this shape—for his weakest part.
He sat beside her.
"Why are you here?"
"Because you abandoned me."
"I didn't abandon you… I just didn't know how to heal you."
She looked at him and offered her hand.
"Will you fix me?"
He took her hand and closed his eyes.
In that instant, every pain surged through him again—but differently. Not as weakness. As a part of his journey.
When he opened his eyes, the girl was gone. In her place stood a strong young woman, smiling.
"Thank you… for not forgetting me."
She vanished, and the gate opened.
⸻
In the final chamber, everything was white. A blank canvas.
And there—stood his mother.
But not as he remembered. She was luminous, radiant with warmth and peace.
"My son…"
He ran to her and embraced her.
"Mother! I'm sorry… for everything. I wasn't strong enough."
She didn't speak. Just smiled.
Then she placed her hand over his heart.
"Your strength lies not in forgetting the pain, but in carrying it without breaking."
⸻
Rayan emerged from the dimension, tears in his eyes. He was not the same man who had entered.
The Gate Spirit was waiting.
"You have passed the Realm of Hearts, Rayan."
"I don't want to forget what I saw."
"You won't. Those who face their hearts don't forget… they understand."
He asked, "What's next?"
She replied, in a voice like a song:
"Now… it's time to face Time itself."
⸻
End of Chapter Eight