At the southern edge of Eldaris, where the desert sands met the veil of forgotten time, there stood a city not found on any map. It had no roads, no founding legend, no builders to speak of.
It was called Veyrium, but only in dreams
Those who saw it awoke with silver in their hair and verses written on their palms. Words not of the common tongue, but of the First Script, spoken by the gods when the world was still being shaped.
Prince Alden stood at the edge of the desert with an expedition of soldiers, sages, and diplomats. Elira rode beside him, her robes light, her eyes heavy from sleepless nights filled with visions of towers twisting skyward and bells that tolled without sound.
"This city," she said, her voice dry, "was never built."
Alden's horse pawed the sand. "Then how does it exist?"
Elira pointed forward. "Because someone remembered it."
Veyrium shimmered on the horizon like a mirage, but the closer they rode, the more solid it became. Its walls were carved not from stone, but from memory were etched with scenes no one recognized, yet all felt familiar. Battles never fought. Loves never lived. Crowns never worn.
The gates opened before them without a word.
Inside, the streets were lined with faceless statues, frozen mid-step as if caught in the act of walking out of dreams.
General Lysara, Alden's trusted commander, dismounted and drew her blade. "This place feels wrong. Like it wants us to forget who we are."
Alden nodded. "Then we must remember louder than it whispers."
A cloaked figure stepped from the shadows. His face was covered in mirrors, and his hands held a scroll that shimmered with stars.
"I am the Custodian of What Could Have Been," he said. "And you are trespassing on the edge of possibility."
Elira stepped forward. "We seek answers. The Echo King of Velkaron is returning. We were told this city might reveal his origin."
The Custodian tilted his head. "He was the First Dreamer. And this… was the first world he imagined."
He led them through a great hall where time bent and light ran sideways. Stained glass windows shifted images each time one blinked, Velkaron as a child of light, Velkaron as a god of death, Velkaron as both savior and destroyer.
"He was born not in fire or shadow," the Custodian said, "but in silence. The first silence. When the Creator turned away from His children, it was Velkaron who asked why."
On a dais at the center of the hall stood five thrones. Four were familiar, symbols of humanity, elves, dwarves, and demons. The fifth was fractured, glowing faintly.
"Velkaron's throne," Elira whispered.
Alden approached it. "Why was he erased?"
The Custodian lowered his hood. His face was made of thousands of tiny mirrored shards, reflecting every person in the room in infinite forms.
"Because he refused to follow the story."
Back in Solhaven, Queen Selene stood in the royal library, poring through maps older than the calendar itself. Beside her, Kaelen reviewed dream journals gathered from across Eldaris. Every single one mentioned Veyrium and even those in Ironspine and Netherhollow.
"It's like the city seeded itself into every mind at once," Selene murmured.
Kaelen nodded. "Velkaron is using memory as a weapon. If people remember him, he grows stronger."
"But if they remember the truth," Selene countered, "maybe he becomes mortal again."
A messenger stormed into the chamber.
"Your Majesty, Veyrium has become real."
Back at Veyrium, Alden sat on the fractured throne. It hummed beneath him, as if recognizing its heir.
The Custodian knelt. "You carry the fifth spark in your blood. The others do too—Elira, Selene, even Durgan and Freya's lines. But yours… sings the loudest."
Elira stepped forward. "Then tell us what we must do."
The Custodian stood. "Veyrium holds Velkaron's original name, his true memory. If you can find it, and speak it aloud before he completes the Cycle of Convergence, you may rewrite the ending."
Alden's jaw tightened. "And if we fail?"
The Custodian's mirrors turned black. "Then the world will become his dream and we shall all forget we were ever awake."