"To unseal the Sixth… is to remember why the blood burns."
Skyler and Aelira descended through the dream-forge.
Each step pulled them deeper—not into space, but into encoded memory.
Reality blurred. Time rippled.
The pendant pulsed against Skyler's chest, guiding him through flame that wasn't hot, through darkness that wasn't empty, toward a singularity of truth.
And there it was.
The Core of the Sixth Seal.
A chamber neither stone nor void. It floated, suspended in broken reality. Seven rings spiraled slowly around a memory crystal the size of a cathedral heart.
Its color?
Black-gold. Like a god's scarred regret.
Aelira whispered, "I… I can feel her here. Mother. The original her."
Skyler stepped forward.
The seal recognized him.
"Skyler Novaah."
"Do you wish to remember what your ancestors were punished for?"
"Do you wish to remember what made the Novaah name accursed?"
Skyler didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
The seal responded.
It burned.
---
The flame didn't scorch his body.
It peeled back his soul.
One layer at a time.
He saw:
The Original Novaah Bloodline, before any curse. Before any god. A race of Memorysmiths, who could see not just their past but every past.
Beings who intervened, rewrote fate, saved dying timelines, collapsed tyrants before they could rise.
And then—
They saw too far.
They saw the end of all things.
And worse—they spoke of it.
They tried to warn the multiverse.
"What is coming cannot be avoided. But it can be prepared for."
The gods responded with fear.
With wrath.
With flame.
The Council of Creation made a decree:
"They will forget."
The Novaahs were declared dangerous—not for what they did, but for what they knew.
And so came the curse:
Not to kill them.
Not to enslave them.
But to reduce them.
Strip their memories.
Scatter their flame across realities.
And worst of all?
Make them believe it was their own fault.
---
Skyler screamed as the knowledge surged through him.
His hands curled into fists, flames spiraling from his forearms.
His veins glowed now—not red, but white-gold, laced with violet-black. Truthfire.
Aelira caught him, tears streaming down her face.
"They didn't fall."
"They were punished for seeing too much."
The pendant cracked—its final lock undone. A small sphere emerged, floating between them.
Skyler touched it.
And Aeria's voice played one last time:
"Skyler. If you've reached this far, then you know the truth."
"They didn't curse us to destroy us. They cursed us to delay us."
"Because one day… the flame will be needed again."
"One day, we will have to remember."
"That day… is now."
---
The Sixth Seal shattered.
Not in violence.
In release.
Skyler stood, taller somehow.
His eyes glowed like suns.
The Archive pulsed.
The thrones trembled.
And above, across the multiverse, every blood-born Novaah—no matter how hidden, how reduced—felt a flicker in their chest.
They remembered something.
---
The Seventh Seal awaited.
But it wasn't locked.
It was watching.
Waiting for one who could choose.
Choose to remember… or forget again.