The sea was restless that night. Waves crashed against the rocky shore with unusual fury, spraying salt into the cold air.
Shayne sat at the cliff's edge, Kael's old dagger spinning between his fingers. The chipped blade caught the moonlight for a moment before he caught it by the hilt.
"You're going to drop that thing into the sea one day," a familiar voice teased.
He didn't turn. "And if I did, maybe it would finally find its way back to him."
Elira walked up behind him, arms crossed, her braid swaying with the wind. "Kael's been gone fifty years, Shayne. You know no one survives the Tournament."
Shayne's jaw tightened. "They said he won."
"They said a lot of things," she sighed. "But winners don't come home. They never do."
Shayne finally glanced at her. Her silver eyes reflected the moon, calm and steady, but her voice wavered. "You're still waiting for him, aren't you?" she asked softly.
"I'm not waiting," he said, slipping the dagger back into its sheath. "I'm preparing."
"For what? Fate doesn't care about your training. You don't decide who gets chosen. The Tournament does."
Before he could reply, the cliff trembled beneath them. A low rumble rolled through the ground. Both of them froze.
The ocean began to glow.
"What—" Elira's voice caught in her throat as blue fire spread across the water, waves glittering like molten glass.
Shayne stood slowly, his heart pounding. He had heard the stories, but seeing it with his own eyes made his skin crawl.
"It's happening," he whispered.
Elira shook her head. "No… the cycle isn't complete yet. It's too soon."
"The Tournament doesn't keep calendars," Shayne muttered. "It comes when it wants."
From the glowing sea, massive stone pillars rose, dripping with seaweed and barnacles. One after another, towers, bridges, and jagged walls tore free from the waves, building themselves into a colossal island. The surface twisted and shifted, forests sprouting where deserts collapsed, ruins forming where cliffs broke apart.
Elira grabbed his arm. "We should leave. Right now."
Shayne didn't move. His eyes stayed locked on the impossible island clawing its way into the sky. "This is it. The Forgotten Tournament."
And then, the invitations began to fall.
Golden shards of light rained from above, each one streaking toward a chosen soul. A beam landed before Shayne, scorching the ground.
He crouched and picked it up. The shard pulsed like it was alive, warm against his skin. Words burned themselves across its surface, glowing faintly.
"You are summoned to the Forgotten Tournament."
Shayne's breath caught.
"No…" Elira stepped back. "Not you. Shayne, throw it away. Pretend you never touched it."
"You know it doesn't work like that." His voice was steady, but his hands trembled.
Her fists clenched. "Then refuse it. People don't come back! Do you want to end up like him?"
Shayne's eyes darkened. "That's exactly why I have to go. Kael's name—gone from every record, as if he never existed. If he really won, why was he erased? Why didn't he come back? I need answers."
Elira's voice cracked. "And what if the answer kills you too?"
"Then at least I'll die chasing the truth instead of sitting here waiting for another lie."
For a long moment, the only sound was the roar of the ocean and the grinding stone of the island as it settled above the waves.
Finally, Elira whispered, "I should stop you."
"You could try," Shayne said with the faintest smile. "But you won't."
Her silence was answer enough.
The shard dissolved into his skin, leaving behind a faint golden mark that pulsed on the back of his hand. Shayne stared at it, the weight of destiny pressing against his chest.
All across the horizon, he could see other golden streaks falling, summoning warriors, assassins, sorcerers—each with their own desires, their own reasons for entering. Soon they would all meet on that cursed island.
But his wish was not glory or power.
It was truth.
Shayne turned to Elira one last time. "I'll come back. With answers."
She looked at him, pain flickering in her eyes. "No one comes back, Shayne."
"Then I'll be the first."
The waves roared louder, as if mocking his promise.
But deep down, Shayne knew: this time, the Tournament would not erase another name without a fight.