> "The deepest scars are not on the skin, but on the soul. And some truths, once seen, can never be unseen."
> — The Scholar's Forbidden Journals, Elder Archives
>
Ash stood before the massive stone table in the heart of the Elder Archives. On its dusty surface, the small, teardrop-shaped piece of obsidian pulsed with a faint, dark light. It was a Memory Shard, and it resonated with his own Shard of Harmony and Chaos with an overwhelming magnetic pull. He felt a profound sense of Truth emanating from it, a silent beacon in the vast silence of the archives. This was a direct piece of the Crown's history.
His heart pounded. He knew, with a chilling certainty, that this small shard held the key to his past and to the deepest, most shocking truths of the Crown's Sundering. Ash took a slow, deliberate step forward, his hand trembling slightly.
"Do not touch it directly, Ash," Master Elara warned, his voice thin, filled with both excitement and fear. "Not until you are truly ready. The impact of such raw, concentrated memory could overwhelm you. This is the Shard of Truth, a direct echo of the Crown's prime reality."
But Ash felt an undeniable urge. It was like a part of him was reaching out to a part of itself. He needed to know. He needed to remember. Ignoring the warning, driven by a deeper instinct, Ash gently placed his hand on the dusty stone table, his palm flat, close to the fragment but not touching it.
As his skin made contact with the ancient stone, a jolt, cold and sharp, shot through him. The small fragment on the table flared with blinding black light, and the Shard of Harmony and Chaos in Ash's chest exploded with raw energy. The silence in the chamber was replaced by a roaring symphony of voices, flooding his mind, becoming one with his very being.
This wasn't a mere vision. This was an experience. Ash was there. He stood in a place of immense, impossible beauty. A golden city of light, called Aethelburg, pulsed with the heartbeat of the Dominion. Its spires touched the clouds, vibrating with a harmonious power. Below, a benevolent being, radiant and powerful, wore the Crown of Dominion—whole, shimmering, and perfect. It was not a tool of control, but a beacon of order, of cosmic balance. Ash felt a profound sense of peace, of rightness, of the universe perfectly aligned. This was the Crown's original state, a truth that resonated deeply with the Harmony aspect of his own shard.
Then, the vision shattered. Not slowly, but instantly. A deafening roar, a scream of pure agony and betrayal. The golden city crumbled, falling into dust and shadow. The radiant being screamed, its form twisting in torment, and the perfect Crown on its head pulsed with sickening light, then violently fractured into countless pieces, searing shards flying through the void. Ash felt the searing pain, the profound loss, the cosmic wound of creation being ripped apart.
And then, he saw a face. A single, distinct face, etched with cold malice and triumph. It was the face of Lord Valerius, standing over the shattered Prime Bearer, not a hero, but a betrayer. He held a crude, jagged weapon of void-forged iron—the Ley Key—still smoking from the catastrophic blow. Lord Valerius's eyes were filled with a desperate, frustrated rage, not triumph. He had sought to control the Crown, to force its universal song into a single, tyrannical note. But the Crown, in its agony, resisted. Its essence, pushed beyond endurance, recoiled. His dream of ultimate control had birthed only chaos.
The image shifted. Ash saw the Prime Bearer's desperate, final act. With the last flicker of the Crown's unity, the Prime Bearer performed a counter-spell, a silent, desperate command that sent the fragments not just scattering randomly, but implanting them within chosen bloodlines, across Aerthos, across time. And with each fragment, a piece of the Crown's true purpose was instilled: to eventually be reunited, not by force, but by a worthy will. The Prime Bearer's last defiant thought, a message imprinted into the very shards, echoed in Ash's mind: Find the worthy. Reclaim the balance. Avert the dominion.
Then, the vision shattered once more. Ash gasped, tearing his hand away from the table, stumbling backward. He clutched his chest, gasping for air, his whole body shaking. The Shard of Harmony and Chaos pulsed wildly, overwhelmed by the raw, unburdened memory of universal harmony, followed by unthinkable destruction and a profound, ancient purpose. The screaming in his mind slowly faded, replaced by the heavy silence of the archives.
"Ash! Are you alright?" Kael was at his side instantly, steadying him, his own face pale.
Selene rushed forward, her eyes wide, touching his forehead. "Too much, too soon! What did you see?"
Ash could only shake his head, still trembling, trying to process the impossible images. "The Crown... it was whole. It was… beautiful. And then… it was shattered. By a face. Lord Valerius." He struggled to recall the face, but it was already blurring, receding into the chaos of his mind, leaving only the chilling echo of its malice and desperate rage. "He... he tried to control it. And the Prime Bearer... he chose the shattering. He sent the pieces into chosen bloodlines. To reclaim balance. To avert dominion."
Elara's own face was ashen, staring at the small fragment on the table. "Betrayed? Chosen bloodlines? This... this changes everything. The Chronicle of the Shadowed Hand spoke of betrayal, but vaguely. The Prime Bearer's final act... If this is true, boy... if the Crown was shattered by a hand, not by fate... then everything we believed about Aerthos, about its history, is a lie."
The revelation hung heavy in the air, a chilling new layer to their dangerous quest. Ash wasn't just a random vessel. He was part of a lineage, chosen by the Crown's last, desperate act. His journey was no longer just about survival, but about fulfilling an ancient, divine purpose. The archives, once a promise of answers, now seemed to hold a darker, more terrifying truth.