The Chronicles Of Eternity

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The first sign was the glow.

Subtle at first—just a shimmer that flickered like firelight trapped beneath crystal—but by the second week, it had grown impossible to ignore.

Beneath the old temple of Kaelun, something ancient was awakening.

Children were told to stop playing near the outer columns. A faint hum rang through the village at odd hours, like a voice speaking in a language no one could hear. The birds that used to circle the cliffs now flew wide. Even the trees leaned away from the stones.

And the elders gathered.

Inside the ashwood council hut, a fire crackled low between them. The walls were carved with old Chronarch runes, but tonight, not even the glow of tradition calmed the tension in the air.

"That shard hasn't moved in centuries," Elder Varn said, tapping his weathered staff. "We sealed it for a reason. Now it pulses like a newborn star."

"It's reacting," murmured Elder Nemi, her blind eyes gazing into unseen distances. "And not just to the world. To someone."

All eyes turned to Kael.

He stood quietly in the shadows near the doorway, arms folded across his chest. He said nothing, but he felt it too—that soft tug deep in his ribs. Like something inside the stone was calling him by name.

"You collapsed near it three moons ago," Elder Jyra added. "Then it woke up. That's not coincidence."

Kael finally spoke. "I didn't do anything to it."

"Didn't you?" Varn asked. "Or maybe it did something to you."

He clenched his jaw. The pendant around his neck—the cracked one Mira had found with him—was warm again, even now.

He didn't understand the shard. But he understood pull. And the feeling of being watched from inside the earth.

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That night, the stars hung low over Kaelun, close enough to scrape the tips of the cliffs.

Kael stood alone in his small hut, his bag half-packed. He'd made up his mind.

The relic knew him. Somehow, it had always known him. The memories it had shown were fragmented, yes—but too visceral to be imagined. He wasn't just near the shard. He was connected to it.

Still, he hesitated. Not out of fear. But because for the first time in years, he'd had something resembling peace here.

A knock came at the door.

He didn't need to guess who it was.

"You're not subtle," Kael said as Lira stepped in.

"You're not quiet," she replied. "You breathe like a guy about to do something reckless."

He offered her a tired smile. "It's becoming a theme."

She crossed her arms. "You're going back to the chamber."

He nodded once. "Tonight."

"Then I'm coming."

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They moved through the village like smoke—silent and low to the ground. Lira used an old command token to bypass the first temple ward; Kael disarmed the second using an obscure switch built beneath a cracked statue.

Together, they descended the ancient stair into the sanctum.

And the sanctum had changed.

The air was heavier. The glyphs above the domed ceiling floated faster now, orbiting like stars pulled into gravity. And in the center—hovering freely above the dais—was the shard.

Kael's breath caught.

It no longer shimmered faintly. Now, it burned softly, a pale silver flame dancing across its fractured surface. And as Kael stepped closer, the light reached for him.

Lira stayed back. She'd learned to trust when a relic chose someone else.

Kael raised the pendant.

The shard flared—and the same glyph appeared in the air between them: a spiral bound in a ring of time.

Then the voice came. Clearer than ever.

"Aunnex."

Kael froze.

The name was like a key. And it opened everything.

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In his mind, time broke.

He stood on a battlefield where the sky bent sideways. War banners snapped in reverse wind. A shattered weapon hovered in pieces around his hand, reshaping itself with every heartbeat.

Kael saw the sundering of a great tower, a blade melting into shards. He heard himself screaming—not from pain, but from decision.

To seal the weapon.

To end it all.

To forget.

When he blinked, he was back in the chamber. The shard now floated gently toward him like a loyal hound finally called home.

Lira stepped forward. "What did you see?"

Kael's voice trembled. "Aunnex. That's its name." He looked down at the shard in awe. "No… its name. And mine. We were once the same."

"Is it a Chronarch relic?"

"No," I don't think so.

Lira's face paled. "Then what is it and what is it doing here?"

"I don't know," Kael murmured. "But it's not whole. This is just a piece. A fragment."

"And the rest?"

"They're calling."

---

Over the following days, Kael barely slept. The shard no longer pulsed randomly—it throbbed with intention. Direction.

Every time he sat still, he saw it: a river of glass winding through human settlements. An old tower leaning sideways in a forgotten village beyond the ridge.

And a faint voice repeating:

"To find yourself, go where the world forgot you."

The next shard was to the east—beyond the broken plains, across mortal lands.

But the journey would not be easy.

The human realm was fractured. War had split the eastern clans. Getting through unnoticed would be impossible. And Kaelun—though peaceful—was dangerously close to the border.

He had to leave. Quietly. Before the relic drew danger here.

---

On his last night, Kael sat alone on the cliff's edge where the mist rolled like smoke off the sea. The wind whispered stories older than bone.

Lira approached again, slower this time.

"You packed?" she asked.

He didn't answer.

"I know you're leaving," she added. "And I know you weren't going to tell me."

He closed his eyes. "I couldn't. You'd try to come."

"I am coming."

He shook his head. "Lira—"

"You're not a curse, Kael. You're not a storm waiting to happen. You're trying to fix something. That's noble."

"And dangerous," he said. "You've seen what the shard is. If this is a weapon, and I'm tied to it—then I've already led people to ruin before. I won't do it again."

"You think running off alone is noble?" she snapped. "It's cowardice dressed as protection."

"That's not fair."

"No, it's true."

Kael stood, fists clenched. "You've seen what's happening. If they find out what I am—if the Forgotten One is real—I won't just lead ruin. I'll be it."

A long silence.

Then Lira stepped forward, pressing something into his palm: a windsteel training token they once forged together. It bore both their names, etched in crooked letters.

"For when you forget who you are," she said softly. "Or who you were."

His voice cracked. "I'll come back."

"You better," she whispered. "Because if you die, I'll drag you back just to kill you again."

He smiled through the ache.

Lira turned away first. "Just don't do something stupid like save the world alone."

"I'll try to be halfway reckless," he said.

---

At dawn, he walked east.

Beyond the village, beyond the cliffs. Aunnex's fragment pulsed warmly beneath his cloak. The pendant had changed—it now shone faintly like a compass, pointing toward something unseen.

As Kael stepped into the veil of morning fog, the wind whispered like an old friend.

And far away—miles past rivers and broken towers—another shard of Aunnex stirred.

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