The path beyond the Verdant Hollow was unlike anything the group had yet encountered.
Where once the land had been choked by twisted roots and suffocating mist, it now opened into a sprawling gorge — wide and deep, with stone walls slick from centuries of damp.
A waterfall crashed in the distance, echoing off the canyon walls like a heartbeat. Moss grew thick across the rocks, and a luminous blue fungus glowed softly beneath the overhangs, painting the world in hues of ghostlight.
Riven crouched near the edge, his eyes scanning the winding path that spiraled down into the gorge.
"Sunken Valleys," he muttered "Never liked this place. Too many things whisper from below."
"And yet we must go down," Vaelion said, already scribbling notes in his weather-worn journal "The third Fragment lies buried beneath the old ruin — Temple of Silent Ashes. It's said to remember every voice that has ever passed through it."
Lyra stood at the edge and stared into the gorge. A chill ran down her spine, though the air wasn't cold.
The Starborn Heart pulsed faintly beneath her armor — quiet, wary, as if uncertain.
Kaelen adjusted the bandages on his arm, a souvenir from the Thorned, then looked to Lyra.
"We go now or never. You good to lead?"
She nodded "Let's finish what we started."
The descent began slow.
The stone trail was narrow and treacherous, winding tightly along the cliffside.
Each step had to be measured.
Loose rocks tumbled into the void below, vanishing into a blackness that never echoed.
Twice they stopped to regroup, once to hide as a massive winged shadow passed overhead — a creature too large to fight, too distant to name.
Hours passed.
Then the stone gave way to stairs, worn smooth by time.
Riven ran his fingers along the walls as they descended, pausing now and then to press his ear to the stone.
"Voices in the rock," he murmured "Old ones."
Lyra touched the wall. It felt strangely warm, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat just below the surface.
"This place remembers," Vaelion said "The Sunken Valleys are where echoes go to die — and sometimes return."
"That's comforting," Kaelen muttered.
Eventually, the steps ended in a cavern — massive and dark.
Pillars rose from the floor like petrified trees, supporting a ceiling too high to see.
In the center of the chamber stood the Temple of Silent Ashes.
It looked as if it had been carved from obsidian and bone — all jagged angles and impossible architecture, shaped by hands that did not belong to men.
Symbols flickered across the surface, written in no tongue they could recognize.
Some of them moved when you stared too long.
Others seemed to whisper names.
Names Lyra had never spoken aloud.
"You feel that?" she whispered.
"Yes," Vaelion replied, stepping forward "Memory magic. Deep and ancient. It feeds off what we bring with us."
Kaelen's jaw tightened.
"Then let's not give it anything we don't want taken."
The doors to the temple were already open.
No sign of forced entry.
No guards.
Just darkness, and a gentle pull that tugged at their hearts like a forgotten promise.
Inside, the temple was colder than death.
Not temperature — but presence.
The air had weight.
They walked in silence.
Even their footsteps felt muted.
As if the very stones swallowed sound and memory alike.
The Starborn Heart glowed steadily against Lyra's chest.
Its warmth became a compass, tugging her deeper into the corridors, past cracked frescoes and statues with eyeless faces.
They reached a chamber lit by ghost-flame.
Seven stone chairs formed a circle, each facing inward.
A great altar stood in the center, above which floated the third Fragment — a shard of silver and glass, spinning slowly in place.
But it was not unguarded.
A figure knelt before the altar.
Once human, perhaps.
But now twisted — long-limbed, with flesh like burnt parchment, and a face hidden beneath a crown of ash and broken glass.
It turned as they entered.
Eyes hollow.
Voice like falling sand.
"You bear the Heart… yet seek the Ash?"
Lyra raised her chin "We seek what was broken. To make it whole."
"Wholeness requires sacrifice," the creature rasped "And memory is the coin."
The air shifted.
Shadows gathered around the chairs, coalescing into figures.
Each bore a different mask.
Each whispered in a different tongue.
The voices clawed into Lyra's mind, pulling pieces of her past to the surface — moments she had buried, grief she had hidden, fears she refused to name.
She stumbled, clutching her head.
"Don't listen!" Kaelen shouted, driving his sword into the floor "They feed off it!"
But the creature stood.
And as it rose, so too did the shadows.
The masked figures stepped down from their chairs, drawing weapons forged from memory — broken blades, rusted chains, dripping sorrow.
Vaelion raised his staff, casting a barrier of starlight around them.
"They are echoes," he growled "But they can bleed."
The battle began in silence.
No clash of steel, no cries of pain — just motion.
Riven met the shadows with a dancer's grace, weaving between strikes and planting blades in places the eye couldn't follow.
Kaelen fought like a storm, raw and relentless.
Vaelion chanted under his breath, glyphs exploding around them like dying stars.
Lyra faced the crowned creature, its gaze locked with hers.
"You carry so much," it hissed "A brother you could not save. A name you abandoned. A power you fear."
"I am more than what I was," she answered.
"Then prove it."
They clashed.
Its blade was sorrow itself — each strike a memory made manifest.
Lyra fought back with starlight, weaving her power into shields and lashes of force.
The Heart flared, pushing back the creature's influence.
But it struck deep — not into her body, but her mind.
Images flashed before her eyes.
Her village burning.
Her brother screaming.
The voice of Serian, distant and cold.
"You are chosen… but only because they were not."
She screamed and forced the visions away.
Struck back with everything she had.
Her blade of light pierced the creature's chest.
It shuddered, dropping its weapon.
"So be it," it whispered "You have remembered enough."
It crumbled into ash.
And the shadows faded.
The Fragment descended gently into her hands.
The chamber grew still.
Light returned.
The whispers stopped.
Vaelion approached slowly.
"You resisted the test. Few could have."
Lyra stared at the Fragment, then at the ash.
"It wasn't a test. It was a mirror."
Kaelen clapped a hand on her shoulder.
"You passed either way."
They left the temple in silence.
No words were needed.
Outside, the gorge still loomed, but the stars above shone brighter.
The third Fragment pulsed in harmony with the Heart.
And Lyra felt… steadier.
Whole.
Later that night, beside the fire, Riven handed her a carved piece of bone — shaped like the crown the creature had worn.
"To remember," he said.
She took it and nodded.
They slept that night with dreams untouched by shadow.
But far away, in a place beyond the world they knew, something stirred.
A figure wrapped in void, eyes burning like twin suns.
Watching.
Waiting.
And smiling.