The city of Emberfall was a ghost.
Not a ruin. Not a grave.
A ghost.
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Alec stood at its edge, staring at the jagged silhouette of the city on the horizon. It was a place out of time—caught in a moment. The streets were still, suspended in a perpetual sunset, the sky painted in deep hues of crimson and gold. The air smelled of burning wood and forgotten dreams, a place as lost as his own name.
The Third Mask lay somewhere within. And he could feel it.
It was not far.
But this city was a trap.
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Emberfall had been a capital—once. A city of learning, of enlightenment. But when the Veil tore its first wound across the world, Emberfall was pulled into it.
And in its place? A shadow, broken and scattered. Buildings still stood, but no one lived.
No one remembered.
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The entrance to the city was a bridge of black stone. As Alec stepped forward, he noticed the ground beneath him shift—almost as if the city were alive, watching him, testing his intent.
At the far end, a single figure stood by the great archway—a woman with silver hair, her skin pale and drawn. Her eyes glowed faintly in the twilight, a reflection of the city's own ruined soul.
"You've come," she said, her voice low and cracked. "The Third Mask is not here to be claimed. It is here to remember."
Alec paused, eyeing the figure.
"And who are you?"
She didn't answer directly.
Instead, she stepped aside, gesturing into the city. Inviting him.
"What you seek lies beyond the ruins, in the house of memories. But be warned. Those who enter… do not leave as they were."
Alec stepped forward, heart pounding in his chest. The woman's gaze never wavered.
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As he walked deeper into the city, the world around him shifted.
The streets seemed to bend. The houses warped in shapes that made his stomach twist. It was as if every corner of this place breathed with ancient power, memories lingering in the air like smoke.
And then he found it—the house.
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The House of Memories.
It was a structure of glass and obsidian, tall and thin, standing alone in the center of the city. Its windows were shattered, but the reflection within them didn't show the ruins of Emberfall. Instead, it showed a family.
A family Alec recognized.
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In the mirror-like glass, he saw a younger version of his father, standing beside his mother—a woman Alec never truly knew. They were happy, laughing as they sat around a table.
And behind them, in the shadows of the reflection, stood a mask—not one of the paper or bone masks, but something darker, more substantial.
"What is this place?" Alec whispered.
The wind stirred, and a voice echoed through the glass.
"This is where the truth sleeps. You are the heir of what was once broken. And you will be the one who restores it—or destroys it."
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Alec reached out, touching the glass.
The moment his fingers made contact, the house shuddered.
And the reflection shifted.
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The woman with silver eyes appeared once more, standing in the doorway of the house, her gaze cold and unyielding.
"I was once like you. A son. An heir."
Her voice carried a weight that made the air heavy.
"I made my choice. And it led me here."
"What choice?" Alec asked, his throat tight.
The woman's lips curled into a bitter smile.
"To become what I feared the most. To claim the power of the Veil… and lose my humanity."
She stepped forward.
"You must decide, Alec Rivenhart. The Third Mask will offer you truth. But it will cost you more than you can imagine."
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Alec moved, drawn toward the center of the house.
There, on an altar of stone, lay the Third Mask—shaped from obsidian, with runes carved into its surface that pulsed in time with his heartbeat.
As he reached for it, the woman's voice stopped him.
"The price, Alec, is more than blood."
Alec gripped the mask.
He could feel the memories flood into him—his mother, his father's fall, the legacy he never knew, and the shadow of the Rivenhart family.
And with it, the truth.
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The mask shattered.
Not physically.
But in his mind.
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Images filled Alec's consciousness—the Veil stretching across time, the fall of the Rivenhart dynasty, the cost of each secret kept and every sacrifice made.
The truth of his family was a curse, an ancient pact sealed in the deepest corners of reality, a contract with the Shroud itself.
And Alec was bound to it.
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A voice rang through his mind.
"You've taken the third. But not without cost. The path ahead will be darker, harder. You've become what was meant to be forgotten."
And in the shadowed corners of the ruined city, Alec understood:
This was not just about masks.
This was about identity.
And the Veil was waiting for him to choose.