The morning sun filtered through the ash-covered trees of the Whispering Vale, casting elongated shadows over the path Jason walked. Nyra, pale and recovering, walked beside him, her hand grazing his from time to time like an echo of forgotten comfort. Elias remained behind, meditating beneath the silver boughs of the Stonepine Tree—a sacred tree said to remember every name ever spoken beneath it.
Jason's mind was heavier than ever. Vaelra's revelations in the previous night's dream still haunted him. The gate wasn't just ancient. It was alive—sentient, waiting, hungering.
Ahead, the Waking Stone shimmered in the valley's heart, its surface flickering like fire trapped in crystal. According to Elias, it had once been part of the original Gate—broken off during the last war and sealed away in the vale.
"You're shaking," Nyra said gently.
"I can feel it. The Gate's pulse," Jason muttered. "And something else. Names... being whispered."
They stepped toward the stone. As Jason reached out, a burst of visions struck him like thunder. The valley disappeared, and he stood in a battlefield lit with golden fire and weeping skies. Titans fought—watchers against watchers, blood painting the ground in rivers.
In the center stood a man—his father, younger, armored in bronze and flames. He held a spear that glowed with living runes.
Jason dropped to his knees, gasping. "Why now? Why show me this?"
The voice that answered was not Nyra's. It came from the stone.
"Because the name you carry is more than legacy. It is a key. It is a curse."
Suddenly, a memory buried deep within surfaced—Jason as a boy, hiding beneath the floorboards, hearing his father weep and whisper, "Forgive me. One day you'll understand. One day, you'll have to finish what I could not."
Nyra knelt beside him, her hand on his shoulder. "You saw him again, didn't you?"
Jason nodded. "He knew... from the beginning."
Before she could answer, a tremor shook the valley. The Waking Stone split open at the center, revealing a hollow core filled with blood-red crystal. Inside, floating, was a book—leather-bound, breathing, almost alive.
The Tome of Bound Names.
Elias arrived, his eyes wide. "We were not supposed to find this yet. This changes everything."
The tremor became a quake. From the outer trees, shapes emerged—cloaked figures with hollow eyes. Whisperborn.
Jason rose. "It's a trap."
Elias drew his staff. "No, it's a test."
The battle erupted. Jason and Nyra fought back-to-back, their movements honed by desperation and shared instinct. Elias summoned the roots of the Stonepine, entangling the invaders.
But the Whisperborn didn't seek blood—they sought the tome.
One lunged, ripping it from the stone.
Jason leapt, grabbing it midair. His hand burned as the leather fused briefly with his skin, whispering countless names into his mind.
"Jason Elric Deynar... Anchor of the Fifth Seal... Son of Fire... Gatebreaker..."
He screamed, collapsing as the tome sealed itself to him.
In the aftermath, the Whisperborn scattered. Elias looked shaken. "You've claimed the Tome. But it has claimed you too."
Jason stood slowly, blood trailing from his nose. "What does it mean?"
"That your choices now shape not just the Gate's future... but its memory."
Nyra took his hand, steadying him. "Then we make every choice count."
And so, with the stone cracked, the book bound to Jason's soul, and the names of thousands echoing in his mind, they moved forward. Toward the next Seal. Toward the truth buried beyond the veil of time.
The Bloodline Gate was no longer sleeping.
It was waking.