Where once elemental harmony presided, now the air trembled with aftershocks of betrayal and suppressed power. Half the chamber still smoldered from Queen Alaya's rage, the walls scorched, pillars cracked, and the once-pristine elemental sigils flickering faintly.
Veera stood in silence.
Around her, guards tried to restore order, but tension hung heavier than smoke. Representatives whispered in corners. Some demanded Alaya's arrest, others questioned Veera's alliance with a boy who had defied existence itself.
But Aeren was gone.
Not dead—forgotten.
Oblivion had claimed him, veiling him from even the most ancient senses.
Veera walked to the center where he had last stood, then knelt and touched the ground. It was cold now. No scorch marks. No blood. Just absence.
And in that absence, she heard a whisper.
"I'm still here… but not as I was."
Her breath caught.
It was his voice—within her memory. The sixth element hadn't erased him completely.
It had folded him inward, deep into the cracks between thought and time.
She stood again.
"We have to act fast," she said aloud.
Behind her, the Water Priestess and Earth Guardian approached.
"We're with you," the Earth Guardian said. "We saw what Alaya did. She broke the law of realms."
"But more than that," the Priestess added, "she's acting out of grief… and grief left unchecked becomes wildfire."
Veera nodded. "She's declared war. Whether the Council accepts it or not."
"But without Aeren," the Priestess hesitated, "do we stand a chance?"
Veera turned toward the open sky, where clouds churned unnaturally.
"We still have the sky. And the sky remembers."
Far Beyond—Within the Fold of Oblivion
Aeren drifted.
There was no up, no down. Only echoes.
He didn't know how long it had been—minutes, hours, or days. Here in Oblivion's heart, time was just a suggestion. He floated among forgotten memories—his own, others', even echoes of lost futures.
He saw a version of himself—crying as a child in a dark cave.
He saw Veera, alone in a storm, clutching a blade soaked in blue fire.
He saw a golden-haired girl laughing, then vanishing like mist.
And then, he saw her—
Alaya, not as she was now, but as a young woman, standing beside a sister whose hair was gentle flame. They laughed, danced under a burning tree.
Then, the moment came—
A rift opened in the sky.
The fifth element, Aether, tore loose.
The girl screamed. Alaya tried to hold her—but she turned to ash in her arms.
Pain. Fury. Silence.
Aeren's breath hitched. He wasn't just seeing history—he was reliving it.
Suddenly, a familiar presence emerged from the void.
Maya, the Queen of Shadows.
"You've come deeper than I expected," she said, her voice laced with curiosity and concern.
"I didn't mean to," Aeren replied. "But this was the only way to survive."
"And yet," she stepped closer, "here you are, learning truths that the living should not carry."
He looked at her. "Why show me Alaya's memory?"
"Because you must understand your enemies… not just fight them."
"She wants to kill me."
"She wants to kill the grief inside her. But since she cannot, she strikes outward."
Maya extended her hand.
"You are not dead, Aeren. But you must choose—to remain forgotten, or to return… and carry the fire that others fear."
Back in the Council Realm
Veera stood on the Sky Balcony of the Council Tower.
Below, the elemental realms stirred. Rumors spread like sparks: The Fire Queen has risen. The boy has vanished. War is coming.
She clutched a scroll—the original laws of elemental balance. It clearly stated:
"No realm shall raise arms within Council space. Violation shall be met with unified opposition."
But unity was a luxury now.
Suddenly, a portal opened behind her.
The Air Envoy stepped out.
"We've intercepted movement from Alaya's forces. She's sent her fire ships to the outer skies."
"To conquer?" Veera asked.
"No. To burn the Sky Temples."
Veera's eyes widened. The Sky Temples were sacred—places of neutrality and meditation, older than the elements themselves.
"She wants to destroy the memories," Veera whispered.
"She wants to silence the past."
In the Realm of Ash
Alaya stood atop a blackened cliff, wind whipping her flame-hair around her like a crown of wrath.
Before her lay her army—ten thousand flameborn warriors, bound in red obsidian armor, blades forged from volcanic breath.
Her general approached.
"The Council is divided. We have the sky to ourselves."
She nodded, but her eyes were distant.
Behind that fire, a storm brewed. She saw her sister again… laughing, dancing, then falling to ash.
"You were all I had," she whispered.
"Crackborn will pay."
Veera's Decision
As night fell over the realms, Veera gathered the loyal few.
"We cannot stop her fire with brute force," she said. "But we can stop the fire's reason."
She held up a map of the realms and pointed to a hidden path through the Rift Belt—where memory and time merged.
"There is a way to bring Aeren back."
The others stared at her, hesitant.
The Water Priestess asked, "What if bringing him back makes things worse?"
Veera smiled faintly.
"Then let him make that choice. But right now, he is the only one who can face Alaya and not burn.
Because he carries something stronger than fire…"
"Oblivion," the Earth Guardian finished.
Veera nodded.
"And in Oblivion… fire forgets how to burn."
Within the Void: The Choice
Aeren stood before Maya, surrounded by fragments of lives, love, and loss.
"I want to go back," he said.
Maya tilted her head. "You will not be the same. You've seen too much. You'll carry the shadows with you."
"I already do," he replied.
"But I choose to remember what others want to forget. I choose to carry the fire without being consumed by it."
She smiled—truly, this time.
"Then wake, Crackborn.
Wake, Master of the Forgotten Flame."
She touched his forehead—
And the void collapsed.
Return of the Shadow-Bearer
In the sky above the Council Tower, a storm twisted unnaturally.
Lightning cracked—but no thunder followed.
Then… a figure stepped forth from a burst of silver-black mist.
Aeren.
But not as he was.
His eyes now shimmered with shifting colors—fire, water, stone, wind… and shadow.
Veera felt it instantly.
He hadn't just returned.
He had merged with the elements—his presence quiet but immense, like a storm held back by will.
"Welcome back," Veera said softly.
Aeren's voice was calm.
"Where is Alaya?"
"Burning the Sky Temples."
He nodded. "Then it's time… the fire met its own reflection."
As he stepped toward the Council's edge, the wind shifted.
And far away, Alaya looked up.
For the first time in years…
she felt cold.