The walls of the corridor were impossibly old.
The stones didn't just hold weight—they held memory. Runes etched into their faces shimmered faintly under the soft glow of Sierra's floating orbs, casting dancing reflections on Ryuuji's face as he led the group forward with deliberate steps.
Their footsteps echoed with eerie uniformity, bouncing against smooth walls and curving ceilings that arched overhead like the bones of some ancient giant. The silence wasn't dead—it was listening.
"...This architecture," Duncan muttered, running a hand along the seamless stonework. "It wasn't made with tools. This is spell-carved."
Sierra nodded. "And not recent magic. This predates the Rune Age by centuries, maybe millennia. Look—this symbol here. I only saw it once in Lethandir's forbidden scrolls. It's a containment sigil."
"For what?" Raphtael asked, frowning. "A spirit?"
"Or a god," she whispered.
Ryuuji said nothing. His senses were sharper than the others, not just from battle instincts but from his connection to the [Gift of the World]. He could feel the magic here—dense and ancient, not malevolent, but… waiting.
Elysia stepped beside him, her eyes glowing faintly in the dark. "I feel it too," she said softly. "The earth remembers something. Something it's not sure we should see."
Reina, silent as always, crouched ahead and examined a crack in the stone floor. "Recently disturbed," she said. "Something passed here… not long ago."
Sierra blinked. "Impossible. This place has been sealed for—"
"A decade," Ryuuji cut in. "That's what the Blessing Stick told me. Something reopened this path about ten years ago. Then it sealed again. Like it was... shut quickly."
"And that's why it's calling now?" Duncan asked. "Like a wound reopening?"
"Exactly," Ryuuji said.
Chamber of Reflections
The corridor opened abruptly into a vast chamber—a circular dome with a mosaic floor, cracked but still vibrant with gemstone inlays forming constellations and ancient animal figures. At the center stood a pool of still, clear water. No ripples, no scent of age. Just silence.
Everyone stopped.
"What is this?" Raphtael asked, almost in a whisper.
Sierra walked to the edge of the pool and knelt. "This is a Memory Mirror," she breathed. "You can't lie to it. It shows you yourself. Not as you appear—but as you are."
Reina scowled. "That sounds invasive."
"Only if you fear your truth," Sierra murmured.
Without hesitation, Ryuuji stepped forward. The others made to stop him, but he raised a hand. "If anyone has to face it, I will first."
He knelt by the water, gazing in.
The water remained still… then shifted.
Not a reflection, but a memory.
A younger Ryuuji appeared—barefoot in the snow, face bloodied, dragging his own body through a battlefield of slain demons. His eyes were hollow, his fists clenched. Behind him followed echoes—Sierra's laughter, Duncan's grumbling, Raphtael's gentle healing light, Reina's silent watch.
Then Elysia's voice—softer than wind, calling him by name for the first time.
The image faded.
Ryuuji stood.
The water cleared.
He didn't speak, but the others saw something behind his eyes—weight and peace in equal measure.
"One by one," he said quietly. "You don't have to look, but… it might help us understand this place."
Memories and Resolve
They took turns.
Duncan saw his clan, turning their backs when he picked the sword over the forge. Then Ryuuji, offering a hand. He stepped away from the pool gruffly, muttering something about "allergies."
Sierra saw a windswept cliff and herself, barely twelve, begging Lethandir to teach her real magic. She smiled. "He always knew I'd be the wind."
Raphtael saw a battlefield—his hands shaking over a dying boy. Then the same boy alive again a moment later. He looked up with tears in his eyes and Reina at his side.
Reina didn't look. "I already know who I am," she said simply, and no one challenged her.
Elysia looked last. What she saw made her frown.
"A mountain," she said. "One I left behind."
Ryuuji squeezed her hand. "And look what you've built with me."
Together, they turned away from the pool.
And then the floor rumbled.
The Door That Waited
A hidden passage revealed itself beyond the chamber—sliding aside with a deep groan like an old beast waking. Cold air spilled through, tinged with something metallic and sweet.
They followed the path, deeper into the dark.
The tunnel led to a spiral descent, its walls etched with larger runes now, more intense. They pulsed.
Not dangerous—just... alive.
At the base of the spiral was a massive stone door.
No keyhole. No handle.
Only a flat circle in the middle, glowing softly.
Ryuuji stepped forward.
"Gift of the World," he said. "If you're listening—what lies beyond this door?"
The stone pulsed once.
Then a voice—not sound, but thought.
"The Past."
"The Power."
"And the Promise You Made."
Everyone looked at him.
Ryuuji exhaled slowly. "I don't remember making any promises to a rock."
Elysia laughed quietly. "Maybe not a rock. But maybe to yourself."
The stone lit brighter.
Then began to open.
Descent Into the Forgotten
As the massive door split in two, revealing a corridor veiled in soft golden light, Ryuuji turned back to his companions.
"No more secrets," he said. "We go together."
Sierra nodded. "Together."
"Always," Raphtael added.
"Even if we find a god?" Reina asked.
Ryuuji chuckled. "Then I'll cook it dinner."
They stepped through the doorway one by one, into a place untouched by time, but waiting to be remembered.
And far above, Kiko held the second Blessing Stick, sitting on the edge of the well.
She smiled.
"They're almost there," she whispered.