The ash wasn't still this time.
It moved—rippling as if breathing a life that didn't belong to this world.
Rant stood in the center of the gray plain, the air around him growing heavier with every passing second.
From afar came sounds… not human, but like a moan echoing from the depths of the earth.
A broken voice said something unintelligible, then vanished as suddenly as it came.
Then he heard his name.
Not Rant.
But the name that had died long ago—Kim.
He froze.
He hadn't heard that name since the first world burned.
Slowly, he lifted his head—and through the mist, he saw a face he knew.
His own face—only younger, purer, eyes filled with the innocence he had long forgotten.
> "Did you forget me?"
The voice asked—his own voice from the past.
"I'm you… before you sold your soul to the fire."
He took a step back.
The air began to ignite with gray threads that turned into images—
a burning house, a crying mother, a boy screaming a name no one could hear.
> "Stop…"
He whispered, trembling.
But the images didn't stop—they sharpened, grew clearer.
The child ran toward him, fire devouring the world behind him.
> "You're the reason…"
"You left me to burn alone."
Rant covered his ears, but this time the voices came from inside him.
He saw himself as he once was—weak, afraid, hiding behind walls while others died.
> "I didn't abandon anyone…"
He muttered, but a laugh echoed from all directions.
> "That's what everyone says… when it's already too late."
Then the child turned into living ash, swirling around him—wrapping him like ribbons of the past trying to strangle him.
In a single instant, he felt his breath being stolen—not just from his body, but from his very memory.
Images flooded his mind: names, faces, places, laughter, promises.
All of them fading, as if carved away by a blade of cold light.
Rant screamed, but no sound came out.
Forgetting was consuming him.
> "No… don't take them from me!"
"Elena… Mother… the world… don't erase them!"
His echo answered him, cold and mocking:
> "Those you cling to… died the moment you remembered them."
He fell to his knees.
The ash around him turned into a black sea, swallowing him slowly.
But amid the pain, he heard one voice—soft, familiar, distant…
a voice from the heart of a memory that refused to die.
> "Rant… don't forget who you were… or who you've become."
He lifted his head.
The gray girl stood at the edge of the void, her eyes glowing with a dim, twilight light.
She reached out her hand.
> "The trial of memory isn't meant to destroy you… but to show you what remains when everything else is gone."
He clung to her words as if they were the last thread of light in a sea of nothingness.
Closing his eyes, he reached into the ash—now a gray fire swirling around him like a storm.
> "I don't forget…"
"I remember—to burn the forgetting itself!"
Light erupted from his chest—the same black flame that once rose from the heart of the inferno,
but this time it was different.
It wasn't wild or hateful.
It was calm, steady—born from the same will that had brought him back to life.
The ash that sought to devour him began to recede.
The screaming faces vanished, leaving behind faint echoes—
no longer tormenting him, but watching in silence… almost in respect.
Rant rose once more.
The world around him began to change.
The gray ground cracked open, and from it emerged a soft silver light—
the dawn of a sickly day after an endless night.
He felt something stir inside his chest—
not fire, but a living memory.
> "You survived the forgetting,"
said the gray girl, stepping closer.
"But the price of remembrance… hasn't been paid."
He looked at her.
> "What price?"
She smiled faintly, sorrow flickering through her features.
> "Anyone who remembers… must return what was taken.
The world balances everything."
He stood silent for a long moment, then said:
> "Then I'll return it… in my own way."
> "Do you even know what you've lost?"
"Yes…"
he answered firmly.
"My old self.
And I'll reclaim it, even if I have to burn this gray world to ash."
At that, the ground trembled.
The air split apart, and in the horizon appeared a vast black gate, etched with glowing silver runes.
The gray girl spoke softly:
> "This is the Gate of Forgetting…
Beyond it lies the truth you fear.
If you cross it—you will never be the same."
Rant stepped toward it.
Each footstep echoed like a note from a forgotten melody.
He reached out—his hand touching the surface of the door.
It was cold as death.
> "I've already changed."
Then he pushed the gate open.
It creaked slowly, releasing a surge of gray light that pulled him inside—
as if dragging him toward the heart of truth itself.
The gray girl watched him disappear into the glow and whispered:
> "Every beginning ends with a new forgetting…
Will you still remember who you are when light becomes shadow?"
Silence fell once more.
The gray world grew still, as though nothing had happened.
But deep beneath the ash…
the fire was waiting again.