The world bled at the edges. Grass flickered like candle flames; the river was a ribbon of molten glass. Kairo pressed his marked palm against his chest, trying to anchor himself.
My sister— The thought vanished halfway through. A blank ache opened in his mind where her name should be. Panic surged.
"Hello?" he called. "Is someone there?"
The voice returned, whispering like wind through dead leaves.
"One memory taken. Connection stabilized."
"Connection to what?" Kairo shouted. His voice fell flat in the strange air.
A figure emerged across the meadow — tall, draped in layered cloth like a monk's robe woven from starlight. Its face was hidden by a mask shaped like two overlapping crescents. It walked without disturbing the grass.
Kairo stumbled backward. "Stay away!"
The figure lifted a hand in greeting, palm glowing with the same sigil as Kairo's. "You have been chosen as Keeper." Its voice sounded layered, as though many throats spoke at once. "The Archive waits."
"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just a farmer's son."
The masked figure tilted its head. "You held the Key. The Key holds you. Memory is the toll."
Kairo's mark burned hotter, light pouring from the etched runes. His knees gave way, and visions exploded behind his eyes: a colossal library built into the roots of an endless tree; rivers of stardust flowing into chambers lined with faceless statues; doors upon doors stretching beyond sight.
Then — silence.
When his eyes snapped open, the masked figure was kneeling beside him. "Control the mark, or it will consume what you are." It pressed a cool crystal tablet into Kairo's trembling hands. Symbols crawled across its surface like living ink.
"What is this?" Kairo whispered.
"A guide," the figure said. "Only you can read it. Only you can open the Archive."
"I don't want any of this," Kairo said. "I just want to go home."
The figure rose, the crescent mask glinting. "Then learn fast, Keeper. Or there will be no home to return to." It began to fade, body turning to drifting motes of silver.
"Wait!" Kairo lunged forward. "Who are you?"
A final whisper slid through the still air:
"I am the one who forgot first."
The meadow dissolved again. This time Kairo landed on his knees before a massive wooden door embedded in a wall of roots, pulsing faintly with golden veins. The mark on his palm glowed in answer.
The door creaked. Dust fell. Something stirred on the other side.