Crossing the gate was like passing through a waterfall of icy water. For a brief moment, Alyana lost all sensation in her body, only for her senses to come rushing back all at once—fast and sharp—the chill of the air, the scent of damp earth, the distant sound of running water, and a gentle silvery light piercing through thick mist.
"Where are we?" whispered Selene, still holding Alyana's hand, her fingers clinging like a drowning person to a piece of driftwood.
"The Forgotten Valley of Light... I think," Alyana replied, her eyes trying to pierce the dense silver mist that surrounded them on all sides.
Lemon, who seemed the quickest to regain his composure, took careful steps, exploring their immediate surroundings. "We're at the bottom of a narrow valley. I can see rocky walls rising on both sides, despite the mist."
Alyana felt the small black crystal on her chest pulsing with a strange warmth. She lifted it between her fingers—its blue glow was stronger here, and it seemed to pull her in a certain direction, like a magical compass.
"The crystal... it's trying to guide us," she said, turning slowly to determine the direction where the crystal's glow was strongest. "This way."
They began to walk through the misty valley, their footsteps thudding on the damp ground. The valley was not entirely empty—strange plants grew here and there, silver flowers glowing and fading as if breathing, and dwarf trees with nearly invisible, transparent leaves.
"This place... is strange," Lemon said quietly. "I feel like everything here... is watching us."
He was right. There was an overwhelming sense of presence, as if the valley itself was a living being—breathing, watching, waiting.
"Do you remember when we crossed the Deep Echo in the old world?" Alyana asked. "There were echoes from different times, memories and possibilities. I think this place is similar, but... deeper, more focused."
"Echoes?" Selene repeated, looking around anxiously. "Like... ghosts?"
"Not exactly ghosts. More like... moments stuck in time—scenes and sounds from the past, or the future, or... possibilities that never happened."
As if to confirm her words, the mist ahead began to move in a strange way, thickening and taking shape. Suddenly, a scene appeared before them, like a moving picture made of silvery mist—a young, beautiful woman with long hair, carrying a small child and running, chased by dark shapes wielding spears and lanterns.
"Mira..." Alyana whispered, her eyes wide. "That's... Mira, and the child is..."
"Kairn," Selene finished in a hushed voice, stunned by the misty vision.
The scene lasted for moments—Mira running through the valley, glancing back in terror, then disappearing behind a large rock, only to be followed by the dark shadows, and then all vanished.
"What we saw... was it real? Did it actually happen?" Lemon asked.
"Maybe... or maybe it's just part of the truth," Alyana replied, her voice trembling slightly. "The place itself holds the memories, the traces of what happened here."
The black crystal pulsed more strongly, pulling Alyana toward the spot where Mira had just disappeared. "We have to follow them!"
They hurried in the direction indicated, and when they reached the large rock, they found a narrow hidden passage behind it, leading deep into the side of the valley.
"Should we... go in?" Selene asked hesitantly.
Before Alyana could answer, they heard a voice—not from the mist this time, but a real voice, coming from deep within the passage:
"Alyana! Lemon! Selene! Can you hear me?"
"Ilira!" Lemon shouted, recognizing the voice immediately. "Where are you?"
"In a cave! Deep inside the valley! Follow my voice!"
The three exchanged quick glances, then entered the narrow passage, guided by the glowing crystal and Ilira's repeated calls.
The passage was carved into the rock, seemingly very old, its walls unnaturally smooth, as if polished by fire. The deeper they went, the lighter the mist became, and the temperature rose slightly. Strange carvings appeared on the walls—ancient symbols glowing with a faint light, silver then blue then gold, their colors shifting as they passed.
"These... are symbols of the First Age of Forgetting," Alyana said, recognizing some. "They were also found in the ancient scrolls of Eidolith."
"What do they say?" Lemon asked.
"They speak of... the crystals, of the balance of light and darkness, of... a child born from light and darkness." Alyana sighed. "This place was... known, long ago. It played a role in Kairn's story from the very beginning."
At last, the passage opened into a wide chamber—a natural cave, expanded and shaped by human hands. There, in the center of the cave, sitting on a round stone, was Ilira, gazing in awe at a small golden crystal in her hand—Mira's crystal, the same one that had been on Sandol's chest.
"Ilira!" Selene cried joyfully. "How did you get here?"
Ilira turned to them, her face illuminated by the golden crystal's light. "Alyana! Selene! Lemon! You're here!"
"What happened?" Lemon asked. "How did you get separated from us in Serimond?"
"I'm not sure exactly... When we crossed the gate, I felt something... pulling me away, then I found myself here, alone." She raised her hand, showing the golden crystal. "And I found... this. It was resting on this stone, waiting."
Alyana looked at the golden crystal, then at the small black crystal on her chest, which was now glowing even more strongly, resonating with the golden crystal's light.
"This place..." Alyana whispered, her eyes wandering around the cave. "This isn't just any cave. It's... an ancient temple."
She was right. Upon closer inspection, the cave seemed carefully designed—the natural pillars arranged in a circle around the center, the carvings on the walls systematic, telling a story. In the high ceiling, a small opening allowed a thin beam of light to enter, falling perfectly on the round stone where Ilira sat.
"It looks like... a place for rituals," Lemon said softly.
"More than that..." Ilira nodded seriously. "It's a place of convergence—a point where different dimensions, different times, meet."
"And how do you know that?" Lemon asked, suspicion creeping into his voice.
Ilira seemed to hesitate for a moment, then said, "The crystal... told me. Not in words, but in images... visions, knowledge."
"And did it... tell you anything else?" Alyana asked, stepping toward her slowly.
"Yes. It told me this is the place where... Mira and Kairn disappeared. Where the battle that changed everything happened." Ilira sighed. "And it told me that we... are in an unusual time, a time when dimensions overlap, because of the effect of the world's reshaping."
Alyana stepped closer, the black crystal pulsing rapidly. When she was just a few steps from Ilira and the golden crystal, something strange happened—the air between them began to ripple and distort, like the surface of water struck by a stone.
"Alyana!" Lemon shouted in warning, his sword drawn now.
But Alyana did not retreat. Guided by a deep instinct, she raised the black crystal between her fingers, holding it before her. Ilira, in a similar gesture, lifted the golden crystal. And as the two crystals drew closer, threads of light stretched between them—black and gold, intertwined, spinning, merging. The space between the crystals began to ripple more intensely, glowing, taking shape...
"Cairne…!" Aliana whispered, her voice choked with emotion.
Amidst the shimmering light, a face appeared—a young man's face with calm features, deep eyes, and wavy dark hair. Cairne's face, but it seemed almost transparent, like a reflection in water.
"Aliana…" His voice was faint, distant, but real—the voice of Cairne she knew so well. "You found me… at last…"
"Cairne! Where are you? How… how can I help you?"
"I am… trapped… between worlds. Between… dimensions. The reshaping of the world… has left me… scattered." His image flickered, fading in and out like a broken transmission. "But here… in this place… the barrier is thin…"
"How do we bring you back?" Aliana asked urgently, tears gathering in her eyes. "Tell me what to do!"
"The crystals… the seven… and the eighth… together…" His voice faded for a moment, then returned: "Their spirits… are alive… they remember…"
"The seven crystals and the eighth crystal of balance?" Aliana confirmed. "We're on our way to gather them. We've already recovered the Crystals of Dreams and Light, and we're heading now to the Crystal of Sorrow…"
"Not… just… the crystals…" Cairne interrupted, his image wavering. "But… their bearers… their spirits… are awakening… remembering…"
"You mean… Selene, Lemon, Nayari, Icarus, Saril, and Marisa?"
"Yes… and a new bearer… of light…" Cairne looked directly at Elira, a faint smile on his face. "Descendants… of Mira…"
Elira took a deep breath, surprise clearly on her face. "Me…?"
"Mira… your protector… placed… a part of herself in you…" Cairne's voice began to weaken, his image fading. "The Valley of Light… was… the place of birth… disappearance… and return…"
"Cairne, don't go yet!" Aliana cried, reaching out to touch him, but her fingers passed through his fading image. "Tell us more!"
"No… time… the barrier… is strengthening… Find me… in Iranil… the Guardian… knows…" These were his last words before his image vanished completely, and the intertwined lights between the crystals went out.
The four stood in stunned silence, trying to process what they had just witnessed. At last, Selene spoke in a quiet voice:
"That was… real?"
"Yes…" Aliana replied, tears of both joy and sorrow streaming down her cheeks. "It was Cairne. It was real."
"He's alive," Lemon said, relief clear in his voice. "Trapped between dimensions, but he's alive."
Aliana turned to Elira, who was still staring at the golden crystal in her hand, shock on her face. "And you… you're connected to Mira. You… are one of her descendants?"
"That's… impossible…" Elira whispered. "My parents… they were just ordinary priests in Ailoria…"
"Mira and Sandol…" Aliana said, thinking aloud. "There were rumors… that they were very close. Maybe… maybe they had another child, before Cairne?"
"Or after…" Selene added. "The Guardians hunted Mira after she escaped with Cairne. Maybe… maybe she returned later, secretly, under another identity?"
Elira shook her head, stunned. "That… would explain so much. The rituals I was taught, the deep knowledge I've always had… and the dreams. The dreams I've always seen, of a beautiful woman with golden eyes…"
A faint sound, like footsteps, came from the corridor they had entered through, interrupting their conversation. They all turned quickly, Lemon stepping forward, sword at the ready.
"Don't worry…" said a calm, deep voice. "I'm not here to harm you."
From the shadows of the corridor, a figure emerged—a tall, extremely slender man with long silver hair and a calm face lined with age and wisdom. He wore a simple gray robe and leaned on a long wooden staff.
"Who are you?" Lemon asked sharply.
"My name is Andros. I am… the guardian of this place, or what remains of it."
"The Guardian of the Forgotten Valley of Light?" Aliana asked.
"Yes… and no. I am the Guardian of the Temple, the Temple of Balance." The man gestured to the cave around them. "And I am the one who guides the lost out of this place."
"How did you know we were here?" Lemon asked, still skeptical.
"The crystals…" the man indicated the black and golden crystal. "The connection of the crystals in this place can be seen from far away, if you know what to look for."
"And… were you here when the battle happened?" Aliana asked. "When Mira and Cairne disappeared?"
Andros's face grew sad. "Yes. I was here. I saw everything."
"Tell us!" Aliana stepped toward him eagerly. "What really happened?"
The old man sighed and motioned for everyone to sit on the low rocks nearby, arranged like seats. In a deep, calm voice, he began to recount:
"It was exactly thirty years ago. I was a young guardian then, just a hermit living in the valley, keeping its secrets. It was a stormy night, and I heard screams and the sounds of battle coming from the temple. When I arrived, Mira was here, in this very room, holding her child, trying to protect him. Around her were soldiers of the Guardians, led by a high-ranking priest. They wanted the child… Cairne."
He paused for a moment, his eyes looking far away, as if recalling the scene. "Mira was strong, stronger than she appeared. She used the Crystal of Light in ways I had never seen before, but they were too many. And when it seemed they would defeat her, she did something… something I didn't understand at the time. She placed the child in the center of a circle of glowing symbols, then recited an ancient incantation, and suddenly… the very air tore open."
"A portal…" Aliana whispered. "She opened a portal between dimensions?"
"Yes, something like that. But the rift was unstable, and she had to stabilize it, keep it from closing… herself."
"What did she do?" Selene asked, her eyes wide.
"She pushed the child through the portal, then… fought the high priest. At the height of the battle, they both fell through the portal, which closed immediately." Andros closed his eyes, remembering with pain. "Some soldiers remained, they tried to kill me too, but I managed to hide. They searched the valley for days, then left, declaring that Mira had been killed in the battle."
"But… she wasn't killed, was she?" Elira said. "Because she returned later, or at least… part of her did."
Andros looked at Elira, a sad smile on his face. "Yes, in a way, she returned. Ten years later, she appeared again in this temple, but she wasn't as she had been—she was… half-present, a shadow of her former self. She told me she was trapped between worlds, just like her son is now."
"And what did she do when she returned?" Aliana asked.
"She made a plan. A long-term plan, spanning decades." He looked directly at Elira. "She distributed parts of herself, of her consciousness, of her power, in different places and different people. She planted seeds of knowledge and power where they would one day grow…"
"And that's why she placed a part of herself in Zinera…" Aliana said, now understanding. "And that's why she appeared to me through her in Ailoria." "And in you…" Andros nodded to Ilira. "And in Sandol, which later became Sena. Everywhere, she was establishing a network of connections, preparing for the time when her son would return."
"So she knew…" Alyana said in astonishment. "She knew that Cairn would return one day and reshape the world."
"Yes. And that's why she placed this crystal here." Andros pointed to the golden crystal Ilira was holding. "Her personal crystal, waiting to be handed to her granddaughter when the time is right."
"And where is she now? Where is the real Mira?" Lemon asked.
Andros's face grew more serious. "That… I do not know for certain. Perhaps she is still trapped between dimensions, like Cairn. Or maybe…" He looked at Ilira and her golden crystal, "maybe she is closer than we think."
A deep silence fell over the dark temple, each of them trying to absorb the truths they had just learned. Finally, Alyana spoke:
"Cairn said… that we need to go to Iranil. He said the guardian there knows something."
"Yes," Andros nodded. "Opitus, the Guardian of the Crystal of Sorrow. The oldest and wisest of the crystal bearers. If anyone truly understands what is happening, it is Opitus."
"So we must continue our journey to Iranil," Lemon said. "But… how do we get out of this valley?"
Andros stood, leaning on his staff. "I will guide you out. There is a safe passage leading to a short mountain path that opens directly onto the outskirts of Iranil. You will arrive before sunset if we leave now."
"Before we leave…" Alyana said, another question burning on her lips. "Cairn… when he was sent through the gate as a baby… where did he go? Who raised him?"
Andros's face grew sad again. "I do not know for sure. But Mira… when she returned, she told me she had succeeded in sending him to a safe place, beyond the reach of the Guardians. A place where he would grow, and eventually discover his strength. But she never told me exactly where, or with whom."
Alyana nodded slowly, disappointment clear on her face, but she understood—there were many secrets that needed to be protected, and some answers were perhaps still not ready to be revealed.
Ilira looked at the golden crystal in her hand, which now seemed to pulse with a steady rhythm, in harmony with her heartbeat. "If Mira really is… my grandmother, why didn't anyone tell me?"
"For your protection," Andros answered simply. "The Guardians would have hunted anyone connected to Mira, especially her grandchildren. It was better to hide the truth, even from you."
Lemon, who had been silent, watching, finally spoke: "If you know all this, and you were connected to Mira, why didn't you intervene when the crystals began to falter? Why didn't you help prevent the rise of Sena and the Echo of Shadow?"
Andros shook his head regretfully. "Because my role was limited. I was the guardian, not the warrior. My duty was to preserve the temple and wait for the signs. Then… to guide those who found their way here."
"And were there others?" Selene asked. "Did others come here before us?"
"Yes. Three times over the years. People came seeking answers… but they were not ready, they did not have the crystals, and the circumstances were not right. Each time, I guided them out, with a little knowledge, but not with the result that you have achieved."
Alyana thought about the people who might have come before them—were they previous crystal bearers from failed cycles? Or were they simply seekers of knowledge, just like her, trying to understand the world's secrets?
But time was passing, and the answers would come later. "Alright. Let's head to Iranil."
Andros led them through another hidden passage, deeper into the mountain, where the silvery mist gradually faded and the temperature dropped. The rocky walls became rougher, more natural, free of carvings and symbols.
"This valley…" Andros said as they walked, "has been sacred since before the First Age of Forgetting. A place where dimensions meet, holding the memories of the world itself."
"Are there other places like it?" Alyana asked.
"Yes. Very few, but they exist. The Deep Echo that leads to Iranil is one of them. There is another beneath ancient Eidolith, and another in the heart of the Isle of Mist, where the Eighth City once stood."
Alyana was surprised. "The Eighth City? You know of it?"
"Only a little. It is the most mysterious place in the world, and the most… changeable. In every cycle, it takes a different form. A city that does not exist—except when it needs to."
This cryptic explanation left Alyana eager to know more, but Andros did not seem ready to answer further questions about the subject.
After an hour of walking, they reached the end of the rocky passage. Before them was a wide opening leading outside, from which they could see an open valley, and in the distance, a tall city perched on a mountainside—pure white towers reflecting the low sunlight in the sky.
"Iranil…" Selene whispered.
"The City of Sorrow," Andros nodded. "Your next stop on the journey."
"How far is it?" Lemon asked.
"Two hours' walk across this valley. You will arrive at the start of evening, which is… the perfect time to enter Iranil." Andros looked at Alyana. "The Guardian of the Crystal of Sorrow awaits your arrival. He knows you are coming."
"How?" Alyana asked in surprise.
"Opitus knows… much. He feels the pain and sorrow of the whole world. Nothing important happens without him sensing it."
Andros stepped back, preparing to return to his hidden temple. "Here my role ends. I have guided you out and given you what knowledge I possess."
"Thank you," Alyana said gratefully. "Without you, we might have remained lost in the valley."
"You will not be lost," the old man smiled. "The crystals will always guide you." He looked at the black crystal on Alyana's chest and the golden crystal in Ilira's hand. "Together, you have balance—darkness and light, past and future, loss and hope."
"Will we see you again?" Selene asked.
"Perhaps, when the circle is complete. My task is not entirely finished, and your path is still at its beginning." He turned to go back into the darkness, but paused for a moment. "Remember—in Iranil, do not resist sorrow. Do not fear it. Understand it, accept it, and allow it to teach you what you must know."
With these words, Andros disappeared into the dark passage, leaving the four standing at the valley's entrance, gazing at the distant city—Iranil, the City of Sorrow, the next stop on their journey.
The valley of Iranil was unlike any valley they had passed through before. It was wide and open, covered in short, shining silver grass, the ground gently sloping towards the distant city. There were a few slender trees with nearly transparent white leaves scattered here and there, and dark blue flowers grew in abundance along the winding narrow path.
"Blue lilies…" Ilira said, bending to gently touch one of the flowers. "The Flower of Sorrow. Legends say they only grow where the tears of the gods have fallen." As they walked through the valley, they felt a gradual change in the atmosphere—not necessarily a physical change, but an emotional one. A strange weight began to settle in their hearts. It wasn't depression, but rather a kind of deep, heavy calm, accompanied by a sense of loss, as if they were suddenly remembering all the things they had lost in their lives, all the missed opportunities, all the loved ones who were gone.
"This… is the effect of the City of Sorrow, isn't it?" Lemon asked, his voice quieter than usual, deeper.
"Yes," Aliana nodded. "The Crystal of Sorrow affects the area around it. But… this isn't a harmful sadness. It's… a kind of deep awareness."
"It's strange…" Selene said, wiping away a tear that had suddenly formed in her eye. "I feel sad, but it's not… entirely painful. It's… deep, but… somehow beautiful."
"Beautiful sorrow…" Ilira murmured. "That's what Iranel was famous for—the understanding that sorrow is not an enemy, not something to be avoided or suppressed, but an essential part of human existence, something to be understood and reconciled with."
"I suddenly remembered… things I'd forgotten for years," Lemon said quietly. "People… I lost, places… I never returned to."
They spoke less as they drew closer to the city, each one lost in their own reflections, their own memories, their own private sorrows. Yet there was something comforting in this shared silence, something that united them.
As the sun set, its last rays reflected off the white towers of Iranel, painting them in pink and gold. From a distance, the city looked like giant gemstones strung on the necklace of the gray mountain—a place of slender, towering spires, multi-tiered domes, and graceful aerial bridges connecting them, all made from pure white marble that reflected the changing colors of the sky.
"I've never seen… a place this beautiful before," Selene whispered in awe, her eyes roaming over the city's details.
"It's the City of Tears…" Ilira said. "It was built thousands of years ago by an ancient king who lost his wife and children to a terrible plague. It's said he ordered a city so beautiful to be built that it would be worthy of his tears—a city fit for his immense sorrow."
The path gradually became a wide stone staircase, rising up toward the city gates. At the foot of the stairs stood a massive fountain, crafted from white marble, from which pure, clear water flowed gently into a broad circular basin, intricately carved with the faces of weeping humans.
"The First Fountain of Tears," Ilira said. "It's said that every visitor to Iranel must drink from it before entering. Whoever drinks from it will understand their sorrow more deeply, but they will also… find a comfort they have never known before."
Indeed, they saw several people—locals and a few travelers—standing around the fountain, scooping water with small silver cups hanging from chains near the basin.
"Should we… drink from it?" Lemon asked, hesitating a little.
"'Don't resist sorrow. Don't fear it…'" Aliana repeated Andros's advice. "Yes, I think we should drink."
They approached the fountain, each taking a small silver cup. The water was ice-cold, with a strange fragrance, like rainwater mixed with unknown flowers. And as they drank, each felt a profound change…
For Aliana, the sorrow over losing Cairn was strong, tangible, but it was no longer as painful as before. Instead, she felt a deeper understanding, a realization that her love for him, her pain at his absence, had become part of her, fueling her strength and determination rather than undermining them.
Selene closed her eyes, and old memories from her previous life flooded back—her life as the Bearer of the Crystal of Love, the people she had loved and lost, the abilities she had possessed, which now seemed clearer, closer at hand.
Lemon felt an old sorrow, now more mature, more accepted. His sorrow as a warrior who had seen much, lost much, but had continued, resisted, protected. The sorrow of duty, sacrifice, and loss.
As for Ilira, she felt something entirely different—a sudden, deep connection to her origins, her roots, the blood of Mira that ran in her veins. She saw herself suddenly as part of a greater plan, a story stretching across generations, across dimensions themselves.
When they set down the silver cups, they all felt something new—a deeper unity among them, as if sharing their sorrow had brought them closer in a way they had not expected.
"What Andros meant…" Aliana said, "was to let sorrow teach us… Now I understand."
They looked ahead, at the long stairs leading to the city gates. The gates of Iranel, made from rare white wood, stood wide open. There were no guards, for the City of Sorrow refuses no one—every sorrow, every pain, is welcomed here.
And above, behind the towers and domes, one spire rose above all the rest—the Tower of the Crystal of Sorrow. At its peak, a faint blue light glowed, steady, like the heartbeat of a giant, sending waves of understanding, peace, and acceptance throughout the city.
"Let's go," Aliana said at last, placing her foot on the first step of the stairs. "Obitus is waiting."
And they began to climb the steps toward the City of Sorrow, their hearts heavier, but their minds clearer, and their resolve stronger. With each step toward Iranel, the small black crystal on Aliana's chest pulsed with a stronger rhythm, in harmony with the heartbeat of the Crystal of Sorrow above, as if they were conversing, exchanging secrets as ancient as the world itself.