The journey to Mirror Lake of Mythelen was a path few dared to tread, even in times of peace. Legends spoke of voices whispering beneath its surface—echoes not of the past, but of futures that never happened. Elira, Kael, and the ever-watchful spirit-falcon Zeph pressed forward under a sky painted in overcast gloom, their destination hidden deep within the Ruined Reaches.
As they emerged from the last line of spectralwood trees, the lake stretched out before them, hauntingly still. Not a single ripple disturbed its mirror-like surface, and not a bird dared sing near its shores.
Kael halted and whispered, "It's too quiet."
Elira scanned the area, her hand drifting instinctively toward the crystal pendant that glowed faintly beneath her cloak. "This place is sealed with time magic. The quiet isn't natural—it's enforced."
They moved cautiously to the edge of the lake. The water was pristine, clear enough to see their reflections, but the images were… wrong. In the mirrored surface, Elira saw herself wearing obsidian armor, her eyes glowing gold, and Kael's reflection stood not beside her—but across from her, weapon drawn.
"This isn't us," she said, stepping back.
"No," Kael agreed. "These are potential selves—versions of us born from different choices. The lake reflects the paths we could've taken."
Zeph screeched overhead, circling once before diving down toward a particular outcropping of stone. When they reached it, they found an old sigil carved into the ground—a perfect circle with seven interlocking keys around a central eye.
"The Gateway," Elira whispered.
Kael drew his blade and traced the sigil's lines with its flat edge. "How do we activate it?"
As if in response, the pendant on Elira's neck pulsed once—then shattered, scattering shards of blue light into the air.
A voice rose from the lake. Soft. Ethereal. Ageless.
"Do you seek truth, or vengeance?""Do you come to preserve fate, or alter it?""Are you prepared to remember what was forgotten?"
Kael's jaw clenched. "We seek to prevent what should never return."
"Then give what cannot be reclaimed."
Without warning, the lake's surface began to spiral inward, forming a vortex. Light twisted unnaturally as the Obsidian Gateway emerged: a dark archway rising from the water's heart, carved of midnight stone veined with silver. The air around it buzzed with unstable magic.
Lysariel had warned them—the path was no longer stable. Elira could feel it too. This wasn't a portal. It was a tear stitched shut with strands of fate.
Before they could approach, a figure appeared on the opposite shore.
Draped in silver robes, their face hidden behind a mirrored mask, the figure raised a staff crowned with a broken key.
"Do not enter," they said. "The Fold is not yours to touch."
Kael stepped forward. "You've taken the Key of Echoes. Return it."
The masked figure laughed softly. "Return? No, brave Ascendant. I am merely its vessel now. It returned to me."
Elira narrowed her eyes. "Who are you?"
"I am what remains of a forgotten god," the figure replied. "Once cast into silence by the Ancients. Now unbound by time's chains."
The wind surged. The lake trembled.
Kael muttered, "Elira, he's drawing power from the Fold. If he stabilizes it…"
"He'll open a permanent rift," she finished grimly.
Without further words, the masked being struck the water with his staff. The vortex widened, and shadows began to rise—not mere specters, but fractured memories given form. They looked like people… warriors, children, even old men—but their faces were blank, eyeless, mouths open in eternal silence.
"They are echoes lost to the Fold," the god-thing said. "Now I offer them a voice."
Elira and Kael leapt into action. Her hands flared with Etherlight, forming twin rings of protection, while Kael slashed through the first wave of shadow-born with precise, deadly arcs. Zeph screeched and dove, striking at the staff in the figure's hand.
But even as they fought, the gateway widened further.
Elira shouted over the chaos, "We can't destroy the portal from here! We have to go inside and sever it at the source!"
Kael turned to her, blood flickering on his blade. "You mean enter the Fold?"
"No choice."
For a brief moment, their eyes locked—trust, fear, and unspoken history passing between them. Then, hand in hand, they jumped into the heart of the vortex.
The world blinked.
And then—nothing.
No sound.
No sky.
Only darkness.
But beneath the surface of silence, a heartbeat stirred… and a voice, faint as breath, whispered in Elira's mind:
"Welcome, Bearers of Forgotten Truth. The Fold remembers you…"