The portal behind them fizzled out in a swirl of stardust, sealing shut with a whisper. Ahead stretched a valley carved in hues of twilight—moss-draped cliffs, trees bent with age, and a sky that pulsed with fading constellations.
The Valley of Forgotten Names was silent, yet not empty.
A hush blanketed everything, not out of peace, but absence—like the world had lost its voice here. The ground crunched softly under their steps, the pebbles and brittle leaves cracking like forgotten memories.
Kael frowned. "Why does this place feel… heavy?"
"It's a graveyard," Quillo said matter-of-factly from Ayame's shoulder. "Of stories. People. Names that time refused to carry."
Ayame narrowed her eyes. "You mean people die here?"
"Not exactly," the fox-owl answered. "But when a name is forgotten, even if the body lives, the soul begins to fade. This valley traps those remnants. The forgotten drift here, in limbo."
Kael paused. "So what are we supposed to do? Walk around and remember people?"
Quillo chuckled grimly. "You'll see. The valley decides what test you face. Just don't forget who *you* are while you're here. This place has a way of making you forget everything."
As they ventured deeper, the sky dimmed further, the stars above flickering like dying lanterns. Shadows flitted across the edges of their vision—wispy forms with vague outlines, as if halfway between memory and mist.
One of them drifted closer.
It was a boy—barefoot, wide-eyed, and transparent. His lips moved, but no sound came out.
Ayame slowed, her heart tightening. "Who is he?"
The boy looked at her with pleading eyes, then began to fade.
"He's... no one now," Quillo said softly. "The world forgot his name. He forgot it too."
Kael shook his head. "That's cruel."
"Cruelty is irrelevant here. Memory is currency. And yours may soon be tested."
A sound echoed through the trees—a whispering hum, like voices murmuring just out of reach. Then, one by one, gravestones began rising from the ground in front of them. Hundreds. Thousands. None had names etched into them—just blank slates covered in ivy and dust.
Ayame looked around, unnerved. "What now?"
The air shimmered, and suddenly the valley shifted.
Kael and Ayame stood no longer together.
Ayame found herself alone in a clearing surrounded by the graves, her breath visible in the chill.
"Ayame," a voice called—her voice.
She spun.
Across from her stood a version of herself from a different time—sophomore year, maybe. More innocent. More hopeful. Clutching a paintbrush, her uniform messy with color.
"You said you'd never give up on your art," the younger Ayame whispered. "You said it made you *you*."
Ayame's heart dropped. "I didn't forget…"
But she had stopped painting.
The younger self's eyes glistened. "If you don't carry me with you… who am I?"
Ayame reached out, trembling. "You're me. Still. Just... sleeping."
"Then wake me up."
As her fingers touched the echo, warmth flooded her chest. The fog lifted slightly, and she gasped—her hands now shimmered faintly with paint-like light.
Kael, meanwhile, was staring down at a mirror made of crystal, buried in the moss.
Inside it wasn't his reflection—but his father's.
The man's expression was stern, eyes like stone.
"You wanted to be nothing like me," the reflection said.
Kael stepped back. "You're not real."
"I'm in you," it snapped. "The anger. The fear. The distance."
Kael's pulse quickened. "I've *fought* to be better."
"Then why do you still run when things get hard?" the voice asked, booming like thunder now. "Why do you shut down?"
Kael gritted his teeth, staring into those eyes. "Because I was scared of becoming you."
Silence.
Then: "Then *become yourself.*"
The mirror shattered, and Kael found himself standing in the clearing again, now beside Ayame. Her paint-lit hands found his, and for a moment, the blank gravestones shimmered—then vanished into stardust.
Quillo landed between them, visibly impressed. "You remembered yourselves. That's rarer than you'd think."
Ayame let out a breath. "What was that?"
"The valley's memory trial," he said, puffing up his feathers. "It tempts you with forgetfulness. You both passed."
Kael looked around. "So where's the next Star Key?"
The valley rumbled.
A massive tree rose from the earth, ancient and glowing with veins of silver light. Nestled in its roots: a crystal star, pulsing.
But before they could move, another rumble echoed—a deeper one.
From behind the tree, something stirred.
Two glowing eyes opened in the shadows.
Then, a voice like cracking earth: "Only the worthy leave with memory intact."
Ayame grabbed Kael's arm, eyes wide. "We're not done yet."
Kael sighed. "Of course we're not."