The sky was covered with gray clouds, and the moon shone through them, casting a pale glow over the stone floor of an old temple. The atmosphere was eerie yet strangely beautiful. Once a place of sacred rituals for the Ascended, the temple had fallen into decay over time. Crumbling stone walls and earth-covered structures were all that remained, each stone a silent witness to a vibrant past. Time had passed here, unnoticed and unmarked.
Lorian Nyx moved alone in the darkness. The ends of his long black cloak fluttered in the wind, and his footsteps echoed across the temple's cold stone floor. He felt empty, as if something fundamental inside him was missing. His memories were lost, leaving him with only a strange pull toward this place, this mountain temple. He didn't know why, but something was urging him to uncover his past, to remember.
His steps were firm, as always, but there was a difference this time. The emptiness inside him seemed to grow with each step, like a forgotten piece of his life. He wondered: "Who am I? Who was I?" Death had claimed him, yet somehow he had returned. The questions haunted him as he entered the dark temple, carrying the weight of a past he couldn't remember.
Inside, the temple was silent except for the wind moving the stones. Then, out of the stillness, a figure emerged from the darkness. It moved slowly, and a reddish glow appeared around it. The air grew warm with each step it took. It was a phoenix, its fiery aura flickering in the dim light.
Lorian froze, recognizing the figure. His heart tightened in confusion. He knew this being, but he couldn't remember why. They had shared something once—something significant—but what? The details were lost to him.
The phoenix, now in human form, nodded at him, its red hair glowing like fire. Its piercing eyes locked onto Lorian with an intensity that felt like it could see straight through him.
"Lorian," the phoenix spoke, its voice barely above a whisper. "How are you alive? You were dead, yet here you stand. How is that possible?"
Lorian met its gaze, his mind a whirl of empty thoughts. "I don't know," he answered, his voice hollow. "I was dead, but now... everything is lost. I don't remember who I am or why I'm here. It's all a blur."
The phoenix took a step closer, its gaze never wavering. "You must remember, Lorian. You were once one of the highest Ascendants, the strongest of them all. You had crossed many paths. You were at the Fifth Stage, and then... something happened. What kept you here? What brought you back?"
Lorian closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. "The Fifth Stage... Yes, I remember it now. But it's foggy. Something is missing, something important. I don't know how I died or who killed me, but... I'm back."
The phoenix was silent for a moment, then moved forward again, its steps deliberate and measured. "Immortality, Lorian. Death is not the end for those on the Ascendants' journey. But something is calling you. Something you must find. It's not just here—it's in other places, too. Your lost memories, your past, it's all waiting for you. But first, you need to go to Rivelia. The City of Mysteries."
Lorian's eyes narrowed. "Rivelia? Why there? What will I find?"
The phoenix's eyes burned with a fire of knowledge. "Rivelia is more than just a city. There, you will find what you've lost—your strength, your past, and yourself. But the path will not be easy. You will face challenges, fierce and unforgiving, and this is only the beginning. The truth lies in Rivelia."
Lorian stood motionless, considering the phoenix's words. He felt a deep, unsettling pull toward Rivelia, but fear gripped him. He was terrified of facing his past, of uncovering who he truly was. But he had no choice. Something, some force, was guiding him. He had to go.
"Yes," he said at last, his voice steady but uncertain. "I'll go to Rivelia. I need to find my past, my identity... but I don't know how to begin."
The phoenix nodded solemnly. "The journey will be difficult, but remember, every step you take brings you closer to the truth. Rivelia will test you, but you must stay focused. Your past, every memory, is a key. Never forget that."
With those words, Lorian turned and walked out of the temple. The once-powerful structure was now nothing more than a shadow of its former self, the mystical energy within it fading with every step he took. The night was cold, and the sharp peaks of the mountains loomed ahead of him.
As he moved forward, the wind howled in his ears, and the darkness of the forest seemed to close in around him. The journey would be long, and the path was treacherous. But Lorian had a purpose now. Rivelia awaited him.
The first day of his journey was harsh. The air grew colder as he ascended the mountain, the rocky ground slippery beneath his feet. The path became steeper, the trees thinner, and the silence more oppressive. Lorian pressed on, the memory of the phoenix's words pushing him forward. His past, his identity, were all locked away, but something told him he was on the right path.
By the time night fell, the temperature had dropped significantly. Lorian found a rocky outcrop to rest on, the wind biting at his skin. But as he settled down, he heard a rustling sound, faint but unmistakable. It was the movement of something—or someone—nearby.
He scanned the area, but saw nothing. The wind howled, and the forest seemed to close in. Every shadow, every flicker of movement, made him tense, his senses heightened. It was as if something was watching him, waiting. But nothing happened. The rustling ceased, and the silence returned.
Lorian tried to ignore the unease in his chest. He couldn't afford to let fear control him. He had a mission. He had to remember.
The night was long and cold, and Lorian's mind raced with memories—faint glimpses of battles fought, losses endured, and faces long forgotten. Yet, as he lay in the dark, he felt an unsettling emptiness. The journey ahead seemed endless, and he wondered if he would ever find the answers he sought.
Eventually, exhaustion overcame him, and Lorian fell into a deep sleep, his dreams filled with fragments of a past he could not yet reach.
The journey had only just begun.