Then… it shattered.
The black flame split through the darkness like glass breaking under pressure. A blinding burst of force erupted from me—soundless, but final.
And just like that, everything stopped.
[You have slain Doom-Marked Wraith, Myriad Illusion.]
[ You have received a chronicle]
The words rang out in my head, not loud—but absolute. Like the world itself had spoken.
I looked down.
The sword was still in my hand.
But it wasn't glowing anymore. It had cracked along the edge, pieces of it falling away… yet it didn't vanish.
Not like other Chronicles.
It stayed. Silent. Broken. Still warm in my grip.
[You have obtained the secret hidden in the Forgotten Spire.]
[Your trial is over.]
And then…
Everything around me dissolved—light, land, sky—all peeling away in layers, like pages torn from a forgotten book.
No sound. No goodbye.
Just that flicker of flame still clinging to my skin—before that too vanished.
And I was gone.
Just like how I'd arrived.
I wasn't in the Forgotten Spire anymore.
The first thing I noticed wasn't the change in my surroundings—
It was the quiet.
No screaming stone.
No whispers clinging to my skin.
Just… silence.
And in that silence—
I was whole.
For the first time in what felt like forever,
I could breathe.
My wounds were gone.
The Black Flame had healed them.
But it wasn't just my body that felt restored—
Something inside me had steadied.
I should've been on edge.
Suspicious.
Wary of where I now stood.
But instead,
I felt calm.
Strangely… almost unnaturally calm.
Shadows drifted like smoke around me,
gentle and unthreatening—
a mist that cradled instead of consumed.
I took a step forward.
The ground wasn't stone.
It didn't crack or shift or threaten to collapse—
but it held me.
There was no sun above,
no moonlight,
no flame,
and yet—
I could see everything.
Every flickering mist,
every shifting echo of shadow.
I knew this place.
Not from memory—
but from instinct.
This was my Soul Point.
A world every Seeker glimpsed only once—
A place not meant for walking,
just watching.
A mirror realm,
passive and distant.
A theatre of the soul.
You weren't supposed to touch anything.
But I could.
I moved freely.
Breathed the air.
Stood on ground that wasn't real,
and felt it hold me as though it was.
And then—
the Hex whispered:
> [Achievements are being appraisalised...]
[Task completed.]
[Appraisal complete.]
[You slew the corrupted inhabitants of the Forgotten Spire,
relieved the restless servant,
and uncovered the secret hidden from humanity.]
[You have achieved a remarkable feat.]
[You have broken a seal.]
[Evolution shall begin]
[Due to your lack of knowledge, the ??? has been weakened.]
[You have obtained a divine trait – Black Flame.]
[Your Aspect has been appraised.]
[You have completed the task. Do you wish to view the memory?]
My throat tightened.
I didn't speak.
Why was I hesitating?
This was the moment I'd fought toward—
Dragged my broken self through blood and silence for.
And yet,
all I felt was dread.
I'd waited for this memory.
I needed it.
But now,
with it staring me in the face…
My chest hurt.
A slow, crushing pressure.
Not fear—
Not really.
Something older than fear.
Grief.
I wiped the wetness from my face,
even though I hadn't noticed the tears forming.
Straightened my spine.
Forced the words out in a breath:
"Yes."
The world responded instantly.
> [Re-enacting sealed memory…]
The Soul Point shattered around me—
Not violently,
but softly—
like pages fluttering free from a burning book.
And then…
I saw them.
My father's face.
Weathered. Warm. Smiling.
He lifted me high into the sky.
I remembered the laughter in my chest,
the feeling of falling only to be caught again,
safe in arms I thought I'd forgotten.
My mother was beside us.
Her hands soft against my cheek.
Her voice light—
a hum from a time I couldn't reach anymore.
They were laughing.
We were laughing.
And it was like the ache in my soul unraveled all at once.
I broke.
Tears—hot,
honest,
helpless—
fell as my past cradled me.
It was only a memory.
A fragment.
A moment carved out from everything I had lost.
But it was everything.
More real than any pain.
More powerful than any flame.
More terrifying than any enemy.
And then—
It ended.
I stood alone again.
Shaking.
Bleeding.
Not from wounds—
but from the ache that wouldn't leave my chest.
My hand curled into a fist.
Nails piercing skin.
Blood slipped between my fingers.
I didn't care.
Pain grounded me.
Reminded me I was still here.
Still breathing.
And now—
I needed answers.
I would tear open the past if I had to.
I would bleed again.
Suffer again.
Burn again.
I had to know why I lost them.
Who took them from me.
And what she meant when she said—
"This is only the beginning."
Then—
the Hex spoke again:
> [Lock has been broken.]
[Imprinting Mark on user…]
It started slow.
A chill.
Soft. Barely there.
Then it sank into my palm—
and froze my soul.
I screamed.
It wasn't pain.
It was something worse.
I couldn't describe it.
Couldn't contain it.
It was like being carved open by something hollow.
By truth.
The cold crept up my arm.
Wrapped around my chest.
Pressed into my throat.
I collapsed, gasping.
And then—
it bloomed.
A flower.
Black.
Petals like shadows.
Soft. Silent.
Real.
One became many.
A garden of sorrow blooming from my pain.
They surrounded me,
welcomed me,
then vanished.
And the cold was gone.
I looked at my hands.
They no longer trembled.
Two marks.
Two truths.
The first—
a radiant, black sigil.
Lines like constellations,
etched in circular perfection,
spiraling out with eerie symmetry.
It glowed with the power of the Black Flame—
familiar now, like a breath I'd always carried.
The second—
a swirling mark of shadow.
Its edges drifted like smoke.
At its heart—
a hollow void,
rimmed in ancient runes
that moved.
Not shimmered—
Moved.
Alive. Watching. Waiting.
Then—
the Hex etched its final truths:
> Mark: [???], [Shadow's Scar]
[???]: The Mark of Destruction. Only one can possess its mark.
[Shadow's Scar]: Some see it as a blessing. Others, as a scar. Only the truth can tell.
I knew the first was mine.
The Black Flame had chosen me.
But the second—
It wasn't a gift.
Not truly.
It hurt to look at.
Like I was seeing a reflection of something I hadn't earned—
or maybe didn't deserve.
How could a blessing carry such sorrow?
Before I could even think—
the Hex returned one final time:
> [Evolution complete. Seeker shall return to reality.]
Andfor the first time I had finally begun to feel real urge to live .