*"The Voice of the Forgotten Tale"**
*The Voice of the Forgotten Tale*
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Night in Nemora was unlike the night on Earth. Here, the darkness breathed like a living creature, and every silence hid a whisper. Adam sat atop the roof of an abandoned stone temple, while a few steps away Zira lay on her back, staring into the endless black void. Between them, an old map glowed with golden threads each time Adam's hand drew near.
In a hushed voice, he asked:
"Do you really believe this passage will lead us to grandmother's memory?"
Zira, still gazing at the sky, replied:
"No. I don't believe. I only… hope."
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The next day, they entered the passage marked on the map as *"The Fourth Gorge: The Voice of the Forgotten Tale."*
It was a long cave, its walls covered with carvings of human faces screaming — some broken, others faded as though they had never been.
Labobo slipped out from Adam's pocket and muttered:
"I hate this place… dead stories breathe again here."
Adam approached one of the walls, placing his hand on a strange carving. Suddenly, a faint feminine voice echoed — weak, but familiar:
> "Adam… do not follow the light. The light is a lie."
Adam's fingers trembled.
"You heard that? That was… grandmother."
Zira stared at him in shock — she had heard nothing. Labobo tugged at his coat:
"You alone hear her. Because your heart carries her mark."
They pressed onward. The voices grew louder — not coherent words, but shattered tales, half-lost sentences, laments of a world struggling to remember its past, but failing.
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Deep in the cave, they found a massive iron door, two meters wide, bound by a living chain that slithered like a snake. On the door, an inscription in ancient Nemoran read:
> "Whoever seeks the story must sacrifice a story."
Zira placed her hand on her chest.
"They're asking us to forget something… to regain something else."
Labobo whispered:
"Be careful, Adam… some stories never return once they leave you."
Adam said firmly:
"I'll do it. If we want the truth, we must pay the price."
He closed his eyes, allowing a memory to slip away. He didn't know which one — but he felt it vanish. The door shuddered, then slowly creaked open.
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Behind it was nothing but a colossal mirror.
Just a mirror — yet it reflected a strange image: *Adam, but not Adam.* Older, harsher, with cold eyes. Behind him stood a woman resembling his grandmother — but dressed in garb from another world, holding a black dagger.
Zira gasped:
"What does this mean? Who is that?"
Labobo's voice trembled:
"It's… a possible future. A story from another path. Perhaps a tale if grandmother was not who we thought."
Adam tried to step back — but the mirror spoke, in his grandmother's voice:
> "Adam… everything you knew of me is a lie. And everything you knew of yourself… is half-shadow."
Before he could ask, the mirror split wide open, sucking Adam and Zira inside as Labobo screamed, clawing at the air, unable to follow.
Then… silence.
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When Adam opened his eyes, he stood in a deserted city. The sky was inverted, and people walked with their heads down and feet pointing upward.
A small boy approached him, eyes void of pupils, whispering:
"Welcome to the *Heart of the Tale*, stranger. What is your story?"
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### ⚫️ Today's Quote:
> "Sometimes, we don't need to remember everything… only to know what must be forgotten."
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