The forest didn't move.But something inside it did.
Branches snapped, slow and sharp.Snow crunched under heavy steps.
Reylen raised his sword.Nyra summoned light.
Vael stared ahead.The figure was closer now.
Pale cloak.Bare feet.Eyes like glass lit from within.
It stopped a few paces away.And smiled.
"I've been waiting," it said.
Its voice was calm.Too calm for this place.
"You know me?" Vael asked.
"I know the crown," the figure replied."And I know what comes with it."
Nyra stepped beside Vael."What are you?"
The smile didn't fade."Once? A man.Now? A memory that forgot how to die."
The trees behind it bent inward,like pulled by its presence.
"I am Veyren.The first to wear it."
The crown pulsed on Vael's head.Like it remembered the name.
"I tore kingdoms," Veyren said."For power. For purpose."
He stepped closer.
"And then it left me hollow."
Vael didn't flinch."Then why are you still here?"
Veyren's smile faded."To warn the last."
"You think I'm the last?" Vael asked.
"I know it."His tone hardened."They don't survive after you."
Reylen frowned."Then tell us what we're walking into."
Veyren turned toward the ruins.
"A wound," he said."Deep in the earth. It calls to things."
Vael narrowed his eyes."The Door?"
Veyren nodded slowly."Names are keys. But blood is the price."
Nyra's light flickered.
"I was swallowed by it once," Veyren whispered."I never left."
Vael stepped forward."If you regret it—why linger?"
"To see if someone ends it," Veyren said."Or if the cycle repeats."
He lifted a hand.Pointed to the village ruins.
"Go. It waits there.But leave the crown—if you want to stay yourself."
Vael didn't move.
Veyren stared into him.
"Make peace with your name, boy.Or it'll forget you first."
Then he vanished.Like fog pulled by wind.
Only snow remained.And silence.
Vael touched the crown.
It was warm.Too warm.
And in the distance—the Door pulsed again.