Temporary goodbye

Shirei's eyes were open, but he couldn't see anything. Around him stretched an unfathomable void, a silent and motionless darkness, interrupted only by a distant silvery glow. He couldn't feel the ground beneath his feet, nor the air around him. He was floating, like a speck of dust abandoned in a bottomless abyss.

Back here again… he thought, with a mix of weariness and apprehension.

He was in the Evanescent Trail. The sensation was unmistakable: that emptiness filled with energy that seemed to breathe, pulsing with a slow, unsettling rhythm. He looked around, but there was no matter beyond the darkness—only mana brushing against his skin, sending a persistent tingling sensation to his brain.

Why? he wondered, trying to find an answer within the chaos of his mind. The last fragment of his memory returned: the reset of the Temporal Rift. He and Niccolò had been escaping from the Cult of the Abysses.

Now, he was there.

Was it a coincidence, or had he been brought back for a specific reason?

He sighed, but the sound dispersed into the void, swallowed like everything else.

"It makes no sense," he murmured. Even his voice couldn't break the oppressive silence.

There were no signs telling him what to do, but he knew where the faint glow ahead would lead him.

Assuming I can get past the barrier.

He kept moving—or rather, floating—in that direction. Each step seemed to pull him forward and backward at once, as if the void resisted him.

At last, he reached the invisible magical barrier. It wasn't visible, but it could be clearly felt. He raised an arm and placed it against it. It felt like glass to the touch, but alive, as though it breathed beneath his fingers.

He placed both hands on the surface. The barrier didn't react, but it pulsed slightly at the contact—a slow and steady rhythm that reminded him of a heartbeat.

The Blendbreed clenched his jaw, trying to stay calm.

I've done this before, he recalled, thinking back to his first encounter with the Placid and how he had managed to progress through Cragar's pathway. Even then, he had found himself pushing through a similar wall, breaking it down with his geokinesis.

He closed his eyes and focused. He had to feel the mana in his hands and use it to influence the mana in the barrier. He sensed the flow running through him, a current responding like an extension of his own body. The palms of his hands began to glow with a faint cerulean light, then he pressed against the barrier.

For a moment, he thought it was working. The surface pulsed, as if reacting to his effort—then, without warning, the mana dissipated, and the barrier returned to its impenetrable state from just moments before.

"Damn it," he exclaimed, the sound once again swallowed by the void.

He did not give up.

He kept trying, channeling every ounce of his power against the barrier. He tried to weaken it, to chip away at it, to fuse it with his own mana—failing miserably each time.

Time seemed to stretch. There was no way to know how much had passed in the Mortal World: minutes, hours, perhaps even days. Each attempt left him more exhausted, his mind foggy and his muscles tense. He was sweating, but in the void there was no air to cool him down.

In the end, he gave up.

Exhausted, he let his hands fall to his sides and let himself drift downward. He lay in the nothingness, staring at the darkness above him.

I can't do it… he thought bitterly, the weight of solitude and failure pressing on his chest. He recalled the rift at the Colorno hospital, the wanderer his replica had warned him about, and the dark entity he had encountered after his mysterious blackout. He thought of his teammates. And finally, he imagined the faces of Marina and Dahlia, whom he longed to see again.

To do that, he would have to find a way to regain control of the trail, but he had no idea how. All he could do was lie in his own powerlessness.

He curled up in the void, until he felt a change. An invisible pressure pushed through the nothingness, like a current of water pulling him along against his will.

Slowly, perception faded. The absolute silence turned into a faint whisper, the darkness into a softer shade of black. He opened his eyes—though he had thought they were already wide open—and found himself in a different place.

He was standing at the center of an unknown, yet strangely familiar room. The walls were made of gray stone, bare and austere. The bright morning light filtered through a window, casting sharp shadows across the polished floor. The curtains moved with the rustling wind he now felt—mild and soothing, a pure breeze that heightened the beauty of the scene.

A large dark wooden desk occupied one corner of the room, perfectly tidy: rolled-up scrolls and a writing station with a quill dipped in an inkwell. A map hung on the wall—a version of Italy, but altered, as if it belonged to a parallel dimension of the nation. A black metal chandelier hung from the ceiling.

The walls were adorned with framed photographs, but every image appeared blurred, indistinct. Shirei squinted, trying to focus, but the more he stared, the more they seemed to dissolve into fog.

Why can't I see them? he wondered, though he already knew the answer. Because they are images from my past memories.

At the far end of the room, above an unlit fireplace, hung with military precision, was a massive ceremonial sword. The polished blade reflected the chandelier's light, but its presence weighed heavily on the entire room, like a warning. Beside the fireplace hung a black banner bearing the image of an amethist swan—a solemn symbol whose origin he could not comprehend.

The son of Cragar moved cautiously, his steps echoing across the floor, but everything was steeped in a suspended atmosphere, as if the room had been frozen in time.

The sound of the door opening broke the moment. Shirei turned abruptly, though he already suspected who would appear.

Standing at the threshold was the manifestation of his subconscious. He looked visibly younger than Shirei remembered—his facial features were softer, his violet eyes more vivid, though they still held an impenetrable calm.

He wore a deep black military uniform that seemed to absorb the room's light. On his chest was a swan-shaped pin—a symbol Shirei instantly linked to the banner. Even without knowing its exact meaning, he felt it was deeply significant, as if it held a great portion of his lost memories.

"Still here?" said the Placid, stepping into the room with measured strides. His voice was calm, emotionless, yet it carried an authority that Shirei barely felt as his own.

The Blendbreed stared at him, breath shallow. "I don't understand. Did you bring me here? Why? What is this place?"

The double stopped in front of the desk and tilted his head.

"Pointless questions, as always," he sighed, but a faint smirk tugged at his lips, shifting his expression. "I thought you'd be able to cross the barrier by now."

Shirei clenched his fists. "So did I."

"Disappointing."

"Are you going to tell me anything?"

The Placid looked at him with an unreadable expression.

"At least tell me, is there a reason I'm here?"

"The answers will come when you're ready. Some things must be discovered with time…" his eyes briefly rested on the blurred frames, and a shadow crossed his face before vanishing. "And with sacrifice."

Shirei couldn't help but argue. "I've heard that story too many times. I am ready. I've been waiting for almost three years, and I still know nothing about my past. I want those memories."

He stared at the double with eyes full of frustration, his heart still weighed down by the uncertainty strangling him. The void that had enveloped him until now was still there—impossible to erase, even with the new memories forged alongside the Blendbreeds of Lilies Park.

The discomfort wouldn't fade. He was incomplete.

"No more riddles. Tell me the truth."

His voice trembled with exasperation. He felt trapped in a spiral without answers. Each encounter with the double seemed more enigmatic than the last, yet the answers kept slipping away—elusive as sand through his fingers.

The Placid didn't move, but his impassive gaze seemed to read Shirei's soul with surgical precision. With his usual calm, he replied, "You are here to receive a message—one you cannot ignore. But you must also accept that some answers will never come. Not everything is meant to be understood—not yet."

Shirei couldn't contain his dismay. "Another message… another warning. I want to know what's going on. Why was I brought back here, into the Evanescent Trail? Why can't I cross the barrier?"

The double tilted his head, watching him with an expression that revealed a certain sympathy—but also a sternness that left no room for leniency.

"The thing you tried to do is useless. You're not ready yet. The barrier isn't just a wall—it's a trial. The door opens only when spirit and body are in perfect harmony. When you're ready, it will no longer be an obstacle."

"Body and spirit will never be truly united unless I get my memories back." He couldn't stop himself from insisting. "If the barrier can't be crossed, why do you keep bringing me here? Do you enjoy mocking me?"

The younger version of himself let out a soft, impassive sigh. "You must learn to look beyond failure—to understand that not every door needs to be crossed right away. The path is not just a race to the destination. It's a journey that teaches you when to wait and when to act. Failure is not the end, just a step toward understanding."

That sounds like something out of a book. Then why was I able to get through before?

The weight pressing on Shirei's chest grew heavier. He couldn't stop thinking about how unfair everything felt. "I just want answers."

His double nodded. "Very well."

"Very well?" he echoed.

He froze. He had to have misheard. It couldn't be true.

"I'll answer one of your questions."

The double sat down and took a deep breath. "You want to know why the gods treat you this way?"

The Blendbreed swallowed hard. He already knew the reason—it was because of his descent from Cragar and the fact that he was a Forbidden Heir—but something in the Placid's gaze piqued his curiosity.

"Yes," he replied firmly.

"There are four reasons they fear us. Number one: we are the child of a greater god. Number two: I once sided with Rakion. Number three: we know the whole truth about the Damnatio Memoriae. Number four: within our body dwells a power great enough to destroy the Highworld—and all the others."

"W-Wait! What is the Damnatio Memoriae?"

The younger self continued, not giving him time to process the flood of information. His tone grew more serious, almost solemn.

"Let's talk about what happened at the hospital now. You were lucky to survive the encounter with Xohrn. If it had decided to attack, I don't know if we'd still be here having a peaceful conversation."

The name itself sounded like an ominous omen, and the image of the creature he had met still haunted him.

"Xohrn… What does it mean?"

The double looked out the window, as if watching a landscape only he could see. "Xohrn is a danger to us—and to the Wayfarers. The lion you fought was nothing in comparison. That encounter in Colorno was merely a projection of its power. Its true strength… is terrifying."

A shiver ran through them both at the same time. "The chaos about to be unleashed upon the world will be nothing like the mere attack Rakion is preparing."

Shirei felt the blood freeze in his veins. Every word from the Placido struck like a dull blow to his heart. "What does he want from us?"

"You're not meant to know. For now, set this problem aside—there's something else to worry about."

The double returned his gaze, his eyes seeming to slip past the surface of Shirei's questions, as though unable—or unwilling—to provide a complete answer.

"The god of the abyss is real. He's the one who interfered to bring you into the Temporal Rift. You must be ready. If you don't overcome him, we can't hope to survive the war to come."

"You mean… the one with Rakion? You know why he wants to strike at the gods."

"Yes," he replied, "but I'm speaking of something else. There's something far greater on the horizon."

A heavy silence filled the room. "A greater war…?" Shirei struggled to absorb those words, unable to grasp their end. The thought weighed on him like a crushing tide.

I'm not ready for any of this. I don't even know what I'm supposed to do to survive.

"This meeting will likely be our last. We won't see each other again—at least, not in this form."

The Forbidden Heir's eyes widened. "What do you mean? Why won't we see each other again? You're inside my mind—I just need to re-enter the trail to reach you."

His voice carried urgency and concern, but the Placido remained unmoved. "I'm afraid not. The rest of your path, you'll walk it alone."

"I don't understand."

"And you don't need to. I've let you glimpse what lies beyond the barrier—for now. But it's up to you, from this point forward."

A wave of helplessness swept over the boy.

He's hiding something. I don't know what it is, but it's clear he's not telling me everything.

The younger version began walking toward the exit of the room, forcing Shirei to react. "Wait!" he said, lunging after him. "Why does Rakion want to attack Lilies Park? Why does he want revenge?" He reached to grab his shoulder. "Why were we on his side?"

The other caught his arm and pushed him back. "His aim isn't just revenge. He's after something specific—something he must reach before it's too late. His time is limited. If he doesn't reclaim more of it, his plan will collapse before it begins."

The Forbidden Heir stepped back. "Why all this mystery? Just tell me the truth and let's end this once and for all."

"No. That truth must come from the gods themselves. Only then it will not have been in vain."

Shirei's expression grew confused.

What is he trying to say?

He pressed on with more questions. "Why don't they act directly if they know war is coming? They send Blendbreeds to seal the rifts, but they're powerless against Rakion. If they stepped in, they could stop him without any losses."

Before leaving, the double paused, and with a grave tone, spoke one final sentence.

"They only care about themselves. To the Celestials, you mean nothing. You're just a weapon to them. With this power, with the magic sealed within your body, they will win. That is the only reason you're still alive."

He turned the door handle.

"As soon as this war ends, and you're no longer needed… they'll erase you. The Celestials are just as cruel as their enemies—all the gods are. Don't trust them, Shirei."

With those words, the Placid exited the room, the echo of his warning still ringing in the mind of the Forbidden Heir.

Don't trust any of them… not even Cragar and Rutia?

He remained silent, his breath growing heavy as he tried to grasp the full weight of those final warnings. The shadow of the fate awaiting him loomed larger than ever.

The glossy walls, the maps, and the ceremonial sword above the fireplace vanished with a silent gust of wind, leaving him alone once again in the void.

There was nothing around him anymore—only the vast darkness, swallowing everything in its path.

Something inside me is changing… I can feel it.

He swallowed. I have to cross the barrier and access the trail on my own.

If there was a lesson to learn, he would embrace it. He didn't need to keep forcing his way through the barrier with the same stubbornness that had led him to fail before.

Instead, he sat down on the nonexistent floor and closed his eyes.

The stillness he assumed seemed to contradict every impulse he'd had up until now. It wasn't passivity—it was focus.

His hands rested on his knees, palms facing upward, a gesture of openness. He tried to feel, to listen.

Every breath he took seemed to sink him deeper into a new kind of awareness. Every fiber of his being stood ready.

There have been revelations—however limited. There have been answers.

He let himself be guided by his own breathing, by the rhythm of his heartbeat, trying to feel the mana moving around him like an invisible current.

He didn't try to bend it—he simply let himself be embraced by it, to resonate with that energy.

Time passed—or perhaps it didn't pass at all. Each second stretched into an eternal present, every attempt to connect with the barrier felt like a step closer.

And yet, it remained an impenetrable wall. The barrier was there—he couldn't see it, couldn't touch it, but he felt it: a presence almost tangible, a wall separating him from a world of knowledge.

This isn't a battle, it's a process. I have to keep that in mind.

Hours slipped by in that delicate tension, until a subtle change began to manifest. A faint light emerged within the void. At first, it was only a flicker, like a distant glimmer, but gradually it grew more intense. The warmth it brought was physical.

Shirei felt his body respond to that light.

The void began to dissolve, and a new sensation washed over him. His breathing steadied, his heartbeat grew stronger—like the world itself was starting to take shape again around him.

The last image he saw in that darkness was the faint outline that traced the barrier.

The Placid was wrong. I did it.

But unfortunately, reality was something else entirely.