The mountains gave way to a valley cupped in silence, cradling the remains of a long-dead civilization. Crumbled arches rose like ribs from the earth, and shattered statues lay half-buried in frostbitten soil. Time had gnawed these ruins down to bone.
Caelen and Elira stood at the edge, wind tugging at their cloaks.
Elira's eyes widened as they descended into the valley, her voice low with awe."This was a sanctuary… before the wars. A place of knowledge, of light. Before it was all torn apart."
Caelen said nothing at first. His curse stirred—quiet, but insistent. Like something ancient was waking beneath the stones.
"There's something here," he murmured. "A memory, maybe. Something old. Wounded."
They searched the ruins slowly, reverently. Dust clung to everything. The air was thick with silence, as though even echoes feared to speak.
In a collapsed hall choked with debris and moss, Elira knelt beside a fallen slab. She brushed away the dirt with careful hands, revealing a fragment of carved stone—runes etched in faded gold spirals.
Her breath caught.
"This is it," she whispered. "A piece of the temple's history."
She traced the runes with her fingertips, voice soft, reverent."It tells of the Heart's creation… forged from the world's first joy, meant to balance its sorrow. It was hope given form. And the curse… wasn't meant to punish. It was meant to protect it."
Caelen staggered back a step, the burn of his scar igniting across his chest. The truth settled like iron in his bones.
"My curse… is tied to the Heart?" he asked, voice raw.
Elira nodded slowly."You're its guardian, Caelen. The Ashbound. That's why you feel everything. Why your pain never fades. You were made to carry it."
The weight of it crashed over him—centuries of meaning he never asked for. All the agony, all the sorrow. Not a mistake.
A design.
"I didn't ask for this," he whispered, his hands shaking.
Elira rested a hand on his arm. Her touch was steady, grounding.
"None of us did," she said gently. "But it's yours now. And we'll use it. Not to break you—but to stop him."
He stared at the runes, at the memory carved in stone. The curse surged within him, restless, no longer aimless. For the first time, it had a purpose.
He clenched his fists, the fire in his veins answering the call.
"Then let's find the rest of the story," he said.
And together, they stepped deeper into the past.