The Song of the Old Sands:
"I walked alone through a broken wind,
The fire was cold, and the silence — thin.
Yet the shadows whispered not of fear —
They sang of names forever lost."
Kael'Teron's projection stood in the middle of the ravine, as if formed from smoke, ash, and glimmering coal dust. His eyes glowed with a pale turquoise fire, and his voice came not through the ears but from somewhere deep within the mind.
"You've come farther than I expected. And faster," he said slowly, looking at each of the three. "Tarion, Laina… And you, Gret. The fearless warrior."
Tarion stepped forward. His fingers gripped the shard of the staff — it glowed faintly, catching the pulses of the projection's energy.
"Why show yourself to us? You could have erased your trail. Disappeared, like before. But you waited."
"I didn't wait," Kael'Teron replied. "I merely allowed you to see… a fragment."
The wind stirred dust around him, and the projection scattered for a moment, only to gather again in a new form — his face became clearer, his features more human than spirit. Yet, there was no warmth in them.
"You're leading your friends along the path I once walked. But I reached its end and saw what lies beyond. Are you sure you want to know the same?"
"And are you sure your answers still matter?" Laina shot back sharply. "You abandoned the Resonance. Betrayed it."
Kael'Teron smiled — not wickedly, but with a weariness.
"You don't yet know what betrayal is. You still believe the world is black and white. But when truth shatters like glass — is it worth holding the shards in your hands?"
"Speak," ordered Gret. "What do you want?"
Kael'Teron spread his arms.
"I want nothing now. Only to remind you. The next step is not a path, but a choice. Where you're going, names are lost. And without names — no magic, no soul remains whole."
He nodded toward the chasm behind him — a narrow passage leading into the depths of a crater-like desert. The air shimmered with hot wind, and below, half-erased symbols flickered faintly.
"Go, if you have the courage. But before you enter the Valley of Sand, speak your names. All of them. Even those you've hidden. Otherwise… you'll become the next to be forgotten."
And with those words, his projection dissolved — as if the wind had carried away even his last trace.
Silence fell suddenly. Gret stared for a long time at the spot where Kael'Teron had stood, then finally spoke again:
"I've heard of this valley. The old spirits called it the 'Rootless Sand'. Those who enter must know who they are. Or their souls will dissolve into the wind."
Tarion sighed. He wasn't sure he was ready. But there was no other choice.
"Maely couldn't walk this path," he said quietly. "She knew it. That's why she stayed behind."
"She's strong in her own way," Laina agreed. "Her place is there. Ours is here."
They moved on, leaving the last stones behind. The path to the valley felt alive. Each step wiped the past from their heels, leaving only sand in its wake.
And in that sand, names were already whispering.
The glow of Kael'Teron's projection lingered in the air, leaving behind a thin trail of energy that made their skin prickle. After the shadows vanished, the space around them became silent — an uneasy quiet, as if the earth itself was holding its breath, waiting for the next step. Laina remained silent for a long while, gazing at the place where Kael'Teron's figure had stood. Her fingers unconsciously clutched the medallion at her chest.
"We need to go," Gret said dryly, breaking the silence. "That wasn't just a warning. It was a challenge. And a direction."
They continued into the canyon that began beyond the ruins. Gret led the way — his presence, like the shadow of a sword, instilled a sense of certainty. The path wound between rocks adorned with remnants of ancient bas-reliefs — images of spirits turned to stone, and symbols that glowed faintly through cracks.
"This path…" Tarion leaned closer to a carved symbol. "It's the mark of the Halls of Forgetting.""Are you sure?" Laina stepped closer. "This place… shamans spoke of it. Long ago, names were buried here — those who betrayed the Resonance, whose identities were erased."
"That's exactly where we're headed," Gret muttered. "If he wants us to know the truth, we'll have to walk through the memory of those who no longer have voices."
After several hours of grueling travel through ravines and shifting dunes, a passage opened before them — an arch of ruined black stone, overgrown with bone-white lichen. Its center was empty, but as Tarion brought the staff shard closer, the space within the arch shimmered — like shining glass wavering in the air.
"A magical veil," Laina whispered. "It will open only to those who carry a fragment of the past."
Tarion stepped forward. The space rippled, and his whole body vibrated with it. The world swirled — and then, he, Gret, and Laina stood beyond the arch. Before them lay another reality.
They stood in a dark hall — tall, with arches vanishing into shadow. The floor was made of smooth stone, covered in strange script. The air was cool, filled with the scent of dust and something deeply forgotten. Along the walls, dim lanterns glowed with no source of flame — only a shimmering light, like memories turned to glow.
"This…" Tarion swallowed. "They didn't just bury names here. They erased them."
In the center of the hall stood a stone pedestal with a hollow. Tarion instinctively raised the staff shard — it slid into place, and the floor trembled. Light streamed into the air, forming a holographic map, woven from threads of energy.
On the map — an ancient complex, with underground corridors, portals, and chambers. But one element glowed brightest — a chamber where the word pulsed: "Memory Node."
"That's where he wants us," Gret said. "But why?"
"Maybe it's a trap," Laina whispered. "Or… he truly wants us to remember something important."
Tarion looked at them both. His voice was firm:
"We have no choice. We've come too far to turn back."
And so, they walked deeper into the Halls of Forgetting — to where the past could still speak, and names could be brought back to life.