The flames were too quiet.
Kaelion stood in the middle of a city made from curved marble and obsidian glass, towers rising like spirals toward a sunless sky. The air crackled, dry and still, as if it were holding its breath before something terrible. Everything smelled like scorched parchment, and every breath tasted of ash.
He turned in place slowly.
There was no wind. No birds. No people.
But the streets were filled with shadows—impressions of those who once walked here. Blurred edges, outlines of children laughing, merchants calling, sentinels standing tall. Ghosts made from memory. Just enough to feel real.
Then the ground trembled.
And the sky blinked.
One massive eye opened behind a haze of clouds. Pale, lidless, pupil glowing Spiral-gold. It didn't look at the city.
It looked at him.
Kaelion staggered backward. The cracks in the marble streets split wider. Veins of molten Spiral energy cut across the ground, spidering out from the city's heart.
In the distance, he saw it: the Gate of Bone.
But not as it was in dreams.
It was alive.
Chains writhed around it like serpents. The bone panels flexed slightly, breathing. It pulsed with power, and from its seams leaked light—not flame, not shadow, but something more ancient. Memory made manifest.
Before the Gate, figures knelt in a perfect spiral formation. Dozens of them. Cloaked. Praying. Chanting names.
Unknown names.
And one he did recognize.
Umbrixar.
His name.
But not his.
"Umbrix?"
"Yes."
"Is this your memory?"
"No."
"Then whose?"
"…Ours."
Kaelion looked down at his hands.
They weren't his.
Older. Etched with Spiral markings that glowed through flesh. Silver rings carved with runes sat on each finger. His robes were regal—black layered with gray, shaped like rising smoke. A blade hung at his hip. Not Umbrix. A different weapon.
Fused bone and metal, humming faintly.
He stepped forward. His boots echoed like hammers. Each step hit with weight, like time itself was reacting.
"This is the moment," Umbrix whispered. "The day the Spiral King chose his path."
Kaelion reached the edge of the city's heart. The Gate towered ahead, larger than memory, impossible to look away from.
Two figures stood on the steps before it.
One in silver robes, antlers woven into their crown, face drawn and lined with grief.
The other… in black.
A mirror of himself.
Not a shadow. Not a dream.
Another Kaelion.
Older. Hardened. His eyes glowed with Umbrix's deep violet. He didn't look angry.
He looked resolved.
"They said the Spiral would protect us," the silver figure said softly.
"They were wrong," the black-clad Kaelion answered. "It only protects those who remember how to wield it."
"And what are you protecting, Umbrixar?"
"Legacy," he said. "Mine."
The silver figure's hands tightened. "There's still time to stop this."
Umbrixar stepped forward. "There never was."
He placed one hand against the Gate.
The Spiral seal glowed.
Chains unraveled.
The ground shook.
Kaelion felt something inside him break.
"No," he whispered aloud, not to the memory—but to himself.
"He opened it?"
"He was it," Umbrix said.
"I'm not him."
"You could be."
"I don't want to be."
"Then you must decide soon."
The Gate opened.
But not like a door.
Like an eye.
And from within poured not fire or monsters—but names.
Spoken. Chanted. Screamed.
Kaelion clutched his ears, fell to his knees, and screamed—
He woke with a start, breath ragged, chest heaving.
His back was soaked in sweat. The campfire had burned to coals. Ash floated in the air, drifting lazily like feathers. Wren was already awake, seated beside Nyro, blade resting across her knees.
She didn't ask.
Not at first.
Kaelion wiped his face, fingers trembling.
"I saw it again," he rasped. "But this time I was him."
Wren moved toward him quietly. "The Spiral King?"
"I don't know," Kaelion whispered. "Maybe. Maybe not. But I wore his face. Felt his memories. They weren't just dreams. They were choices."
Wren sat opposite him. "What happened?"
He looked at her.
"I opened the Gate."
Her jaw clenched.
"I didn't want to. But it… it expected me to. It was like breathing."
Wren handed him water. "Drink."
He did. Slowly. The silence between them throbbed with something unspoken.
After a moment, Kaelion said, "They called me Umbrixar."
Wren's hands tightened around her knees. "That name only exists in one text I've ever found. Burned. Hidden. Forbidden. They said he was the Spiral King's true name before the world turned against him."
Kaelion swallowed. "So he's real."
"Real enough that the world had to forget him."
"They didn't forget me," Umbrix said softly. "They erased me."
"Was I you?"
"You were what I could have been with a name."
"And now?"
"Now, you are becoming."
Kaelion's stomach twisted.
He looked at his palm.
The Spiral mark was glowing again.
More vivid. More complete.
"I don't know who I am anymore."
Wren reached out, placing a hand on his wrist.
"You're not him," she said. "You are you. Kaelion. The boy who tried to make jokes when the world started falling apart. The boy who helped me fight Glarehounds before he knew what the bond could do."
"And what if that's not enough?"
"Then we find another way."
He looked up at her. "Even if I open the Gate?"
"We close it together."
They left camp just after first light.
The Spiritwild had shifted again—paths wider, trees arching like ribs. Kaelion felt no resistance now, only acknowledgment. The forest knew him.
And it no longer tried to hide it.
He didn't speak for a while. He just walked, eyes distant, thoughts circling the memory like crows over a grave.
"You've seen other Gate dreams?" he asked eventually.
Wren nodded. "Twice. Both with previous Spiral-bound. One never woke up. The other did… but not whole."
"And me?"
Wren looked at him sideways. "You're already more than they were."
"Or more dangerous."
"Maybe both."
By midday, they reached the Worldpine.
It rose like a mountain of bark and starlight, trunk wrapped in vines the width of ships, roots sprawling across the land like petrified rivers. At its base stood a low, arching entrance—shaped like an eye half-shut.
Kaelion stared.
"It looks like the Gate."
Wren nodded. "The archivist built it that way. On purpose."
"You've met her?"
"Once. She called me a storm pretending to be a girl. Said my hands were too clean."
Kaelion smirked. "Sounds friendly."
"She's not."
They stood before the arch.
From within came the faint sound of pages turning… and a low whisper Kaelion couldn't understand, like someone reciting names in reverse.
He felt his bond tighten, chest growing warm.
The Spiral pulsed once.
"She remembers me," Umbrix murmured. "Even after all this time."
"Do I?" Kaelion whispered. "Do I know her?"
"Go inside and find out."
He glanced at Wren.
She gave a curt nod, but her fingers were trembling at her side.
He wanted to ask why.
But the truth hung between them now, unspoken:
This journey wasn't just about him.
She was here for a reason too.
And whatever it was...
...it was tied to the Gate.