Morning never came.
Though the fire had burned to ash, and the soldiers had begun to stir from uneasy sleep, the sky remained dark. Not nighttime-dark. Not cloud-dark. But something deeper—like the world was holding its breath, waiting for something to decide whether light was still allowed.
Coker stood at the river's edge again, staring into the still waters.
The coin in his hand—the Sealed Sun token—was warm now. Warmer than it had any right to be. As if it remembered what it had once locked away, and feared it might be remembered.
Behind him, Lilin whispered something to one of the soldiers.
Mina sat alone, sharpening a blade she barely knew how to use, glancing at Coker when she thought he wasn't looking.
But he always was.
He heard everything now. Felt the wind's hesitation. Saw the cracks forming not just in the sky, but in the world's memory itself.
---
When he turned from the river, Lilin was waiting.
"You need to hear this," she said. "All of it."
He followed her without a word.
They walked past the edge of the broken trees, over an old path lined with bones that looked like they had been carved from glass. The sun tried to rise once—but failed. The light came halfway over the hills, then curled backward, retreating.
Eventually, they reached a flat stone surrounded by seven statues.
Each statue had no face—just a mouth stitched shut.
"This is the Memory Court," Lilin said. "Where truths were sealed."
Coker stepped onto the stone and suddenly felt the air thicken.
Something pressed against his mind.
"Say the name," said a voice—no, many voices—all around him.
"What name?" he asked.
But Lilin said nothing.
The statues glowed.
And suddenly—
Coker remembered.
---
A name.
Buried deep.
A name that once opened doors to hidden realms. A name that had been spoken only by those who no longer lived long after saying it.
A name he had sworn never to say again.
**"Elior."**
The moment it slipped from his lips, the world reacted.
The ground cracked beneath him.
The sky tore—just a little more.
Mina cried out behind him.
And the statues wept blood.
---
"What did I just do?" Coker asked, breath caught in his throat.
Lilin looked at him, pale. "You called him. The first one. The one who taught you to burn the stars."
Coker stepped back. "I didn't mean—"
"You did," she said. "You needed to. The river woke something inside you. But Elior is not your enemy."
"Then who is?"
Lilin looked at the stitched mouths around them. "The ones who sealed him. The ones who sealed *you.*"
---
Back at the camp, Mina stood, eyes wide.
The token Coker had dropped began to float, spinning faster and faster until it burst into flame—black flame.
A voice echoed from nowhere.
**"He remembers the first light."**
And then a shape appeared in the fire.
A face—gentle, beautiful, cruel.
The face of a boy not much older than Coker.
With silver hair and eyes like shattered moons.
"Hello, little brother," the voice whispered.
Then the fire vanished.
---
Coker staggered as the memory hit him like a wave.
That face. That voice. That name.
**Elior.**
He wasn't a stranger.
He was family.
Not just blood.
Something older.
Something deeper.
They had been born from the same storm. Raised in the same war. But somewhere, Elior had chosen a different path.
And he had paid for it with eternity.
---
"What happened to him?" Coker asked.
Lilin answered slowly. "He fell before you did. Tried to stop the sky from devouring the world. Failed. They locked him in the void between names. And then they made you forget him."
"Why?"
"Because you would've torn the world apart to get him back."
---
The sky cracked open fully.
Light poured down—not golden. Not blue.
But memory.
Images rained from the sky—moments that never happened, but *had.*
Coker saw himself standing beside Elior in a throne room made of thunder. He saw them laughing in a city of stars. He saw them at war—against each other.
And finally, he saw himself holding Elior's broken body, whispering the name that should not be spoken.
Again.
And again.
Until even that word forgot how to be said.
---
The soldiers fell to one knee as the sky wept.
A great tremor shook the earth.
A hole opened at the edge of the Memory Court—wide and endless.
From it rose a structure: a tower made of books, chained shut, screaming.
Lilin gasped. "They brought back the Archive."
Mina ran to Coker. "What's happening?!"
Coker gripped her hand. "The world is remembering itself."
The tower screamed again, louder.
And the sky whispered:
**"One more lock undone."**
---
Inside the tower, they found a hallway made of silence.
Every book screamed when touched.
Each one held a piece of the past—burned names, forgotten gods, broken vows.
At the center was a book with no title.
Coker opened it.
And saw his own face.
But drawn in flame.
The pages flipped on their own, revealing names. Dozens. Hundreds.
Each one of them—his.
---
"This book remembers who I used to be," Coker said.
Lilin nodded. "And if you read it all… you'll stop being Coker."
He stared at the pages.
Each name carried weight. Power. Pain.
The last name on the list glowed faintly:
**"Ashoran."**
He whispered it.
And the tower shuddered.
Mina pulled his hand away. "Don't lose yourself."
Coker looked at her. "What if that's the only way to win?"
"Then I'd rather lose with *you* than win without you," she said.
---
Behind them, a new figure stepped from the shadows.
Not Elior.
Not a soldier.
Something worse.
A being wrapped in paper and wire. No face. No limbs. Just floating.
Its voice sounded like a pen scratching stone.
"You are not permitted to remember."
Coker narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"
"I am the Scribe. The warden of forgetting. The jailer of truth."
The creature floated closer.
"You were not meant to wake."
Coker raised his hand, and the mark on his wrist blazed.
"Then let me go back to sleep," he said.
And struck.
---
The tower exploded with light.
Memory burned across the land like wildfire.
The river screamed.
The sky cracked.
And the name **Elior** echoed through every tree, every stone, every forgotten grave.
---
In a village far away, a little girl woke up crying.
She didn't know why.
But she remembered a name she had never learned.
And whispered it into the dark:
**"Ashoran."**