The echo of ancient bells tolled through the air as the heavy double doors of the Old Ministry creaked open. A gust of wind escaped from within, carrying the dry scent of dust and forgotten prayers. Liam stepped forward first, the third fragment pulsing faintly beneath his cloak like a heartbeat trying to remember its rhythm.
The interior was a vast, cathedral-like space choked with ivy and shadows. Stained glass windows — long shattered — let in streaks of pale, morning light. At the far end, beneath a crumbling sigil of the old Realm Order, stood a single statue, robed and faceless, arms outstretched as if in pleading.
"This place," Nyra whispered, running her fingers along a fallen archway, "feels like it's waiting for something."
Kael nodded. "Or someone."
They moved cautiously down the aisle, Liam's boots crunching over old debris. The air grew thicker, each step dragging against a weight they couldn't see.
"We're not alone," Aeris muttered. Her fingers hovered near her crystal blade.
Before anyone could respond, the ground quaked faintly. From behind the altar, a figure stepped out — tall, armored in tarnished silver, with a helm shaped like a crescent moon. Its face was hidden, but its presence was unmistakable. Ancient. Burdened.
Liam instinctively stepped back, but the figure raised a hand.
"I am The Keeper," it said, voice echoing not through the air, but through their minds. "Bound to guard the secrets of the old oaths."
Kael's brow furrowed. "You're from the Realm Order. A remnant."
The Keeper didn't deny it. "I was left behind when the veil was sealed. My oath: to protect the memory of those who broke faith with this world."
Liam took a step forward, heart pounding. "We came looking for the next fragment — but more than that, we need answers. About Elira. About Nytherion. About the protectors who never returned."
The Keeper tilted its head. "The memory you seek lies within this place — but to see it, you must face it. Only through confrontation can the truth be made whole."
Without warning, the stained glass windows shimmered, forming a circle around them. Colors bled from the glass into the air, swirling like smoke until they formed a dome of refracted light. Inside it, the world changed.
The Ministry faded.
Liam stood in a burned clearing — trees blackened, the sky split by red lightning.
And Elira stood before him.
But not as he remembered.
Her robes were torn, her eyes glowing violet with raw power. Behind her stood Nytherion — wounded, barely conscious, chained by red bindings that pulsed with dark energy.
"You came too late," Elira said, voice shaking with pain. "I couldn't protect him. I couldn't protect anyone."
Liam tried to step forward, but his feet were rooted to the scorched ground. "Elira, this isn't real. This is a memory. Please — what happened?"
"You must see it, Liam," her voice echoed around him. "You must understand why he became what he did. Why I had to fall."
The memory warped. Darkness coiled like a snake through the dreamscape. The ground split, and a monstrous figure emerged — Nytherion as he was now. Not wounded. Not chained. But whole, and terrible.
And smiling.
"You wear my face well," the dark Nytherion said, circling the chained version of himself. "But you were weak. You loved. You trusted. And you fell."
"I am what remains when hope is gone."
Elira tried to speak — to reach for the real Nytherion — but her body began to unravel into smoke, fragments of her vanishing into the broken sky.
"Wait!" Liam shouted. He turned to the Keeper, who now appeared as a phantom in the memory. "How do we stop this? How do we help them?"
The Keeper's voice was quiet.
"You must find the original bond. Before it was broken. Find the memory of when their paths first crossed. Only then will you understand how to mend what was shattered."
The vision dissolved, and Liam collapsed to his knees on the floor of the Ministry. The dome of stained glass faded, leaving only silence.
Aeris knelt beside him, hand on his shoulder. "What did you see?"
Liam's eyes burned. "I saw the moment Elira lost everything. And Nytherion... the real one… he's still inside the monster. But he's fading."
Kael helped him up. "Then we still have a chance. We find the memory. We find the original bond."
Nyra nodded solemnly. "And we find the protectors. Someone must remember."
The Keeper stepped aside, pointing toward a corridor behind the altar. "Go now. To the chamber of the forgotten. The next clue lies buried in the minds of those who sleep."
The group exchanged grim glances.
Then moved forward — into the dark.