Though the world had been pulled back from the edge, it was far from healed.
The Rift was sealed. The Dominion was broken. But in the stillness that followed, something stirred beneath the ash and memory—the remnants of the Forgotten, ancient powers older than even the Dominion's rise.
Beneath cracked temples and drowned cathedrals, whispers began to echo once more.
And the silence that followed victory… became uneasy.
---
The Nameless Archive
Far in the Western Wastes, beyond the shattered spires of Velmira, a ruin stood untouched by time or war. Once the sanctum of the First Seers, it was long thought lost to myth.
But now, the Archive breathed again.
A lone figure—tattered cloak, eyes like cold fire—stepped into its depths.
He carried a blade etched with pre-Dominion runes, and a journal made of flesh and ink. The Archivist was his name in stories, though no one remembered his true one.
And as he stepped into the ancient vaults, the glyphs awakened.
They spoke in broken tones:
> "The Memory King has remembered… and in doing so, he has awakened us."
The Archivist smiled.
> "Then the old game begins anew."
---
Rheon's Burden
Back in the Tower of Aegis, Rheon had not slept in weeks. He studied the echoes in the Weave—flickers of events not yet written.
His fingers brushed against a thread that pulsed cold and strange.
> A temple door opening.
An oath renewed in a forgotten tongue.
A shadow walking where none should remain.
He turned to the elder mages.
> "Something stirs in the West. Something worse than Kael'tharion. Something… older."
Lyssira approached, eyes narrowed.
> "Do we tell the kingdoms?"
Rheon shook his head. "Not yet. We need proof. And we need… him."
---
The Search for the King
Scouts and scryers were sent across the realms, searching for any trace of Kael'tharion.
Some claimed he had walked into the Sunken Forests of Veil'dun, where trees whispered in forgotten languages. Others believed he had passed through the Ethereal Vale, where souls touched the edge of rebirth.
But no one could find him.
He had disappeared—not hidden, but faded. As if memory itself had released him.
Until one morning…
In the orchard beyond time, the blossoms turned black.
And Kael'tharion, eyes wide, whispered a name he hadn't spoken in millennia:
> "Altheris…"
---
Who Is Altheris?
Altheris.
The first Chrono-Sovereign.
The king before kings.
Banished from memory itself.
A being whose existence was too dangerous to be remembered.
Until now.
And with Kael'tharion whole again… so too was Altheris' prison.
The Memory King stood, his gaze distant.
> "He's waking," he said.
Ilian faded beside him, unable to hold form in the presence of that name.
Kael'tharion turned toward the west, where time had gone still again.
> "And if Altheris rises…"
> "Then everything we've done will have been for nothing."
---
The Sovereign Below
Deep beneath the scorched bones of the world, where no sunlight had ever touched, a prison stirred.
The obsidian gates of Nullreach—once bound by the seals of the Twelve Arcanum—trembled with every passing second. Wards woven in ancient tongues bled silver light as they strained to contain something that should not exist.
And then… they cracked.
A whisper, soft as breath but cold as the void between stars, escaped.
> "I return."
---
Nullreach Awakens
Nullreach was no mere dungeon. It was the foundation upon which the world was built—a prison forged not of stone, but of history itself. A place where those too powerful to kill were buried in oblivion.
At the lowest level, chained to a throne of petrified time, sat Altheris, the First Sovereign.
His form was not monstrous, not draconic or titanic. No—he looked human. Ageless. Eyes black, not with malice, but with the unbearable weight of knowledge.
Each breath he took broke a memory somewhere in the world.
Each movement made timelines tremble.
And now, his eyes opened.
> "Chrono Dominion," he murmured, voice echoing through a thousand dreamscapes.
"My crown was only borrowed. Let it be returned."
---
Rheon's Vision
Rheon jolted upright from his trance, blood dripping from his nose, his eyes wide with terror.
The Codex—thought to be silent—had screamed.
The Weave was twisting. Memories unraveling. Names vanishing from books. Statues eroding overnight. Families forgetting their ancestors.
Something was eating time.
And at the center of it… Altheris.
Rheon fell to his knees.
> "We are not ready."
But ready or not, the world had already begun to change.
---
Kael'tharion's Choice
The orchard withered with every step Kael'tharion took toward the West. His robes, once white, darkened with strands of silver entropy. Every memory he held—every life, friend, foe, joy, failure—pressed heavier on his shoulders.
But he did not falter.
> "If Altheris rises," he said aloud, "then I must fall once more."
The Memory King walked into the Forgotten Marches, where reality was thin and dreams bled into flesh.
He was not alone.
From the shadows stepped the last Remnant, the fractured piece of his former tyrant self he had never fully destroyed.
> "You'll need me," the Remnant hissed.
"To kill a god… we must become what we once feared."
Kael'tharion clenched his fists.
> "Then let memory become a blade."
And with that, they vanished into the heart of time.
---
The Sovereign Below Rises
At Nullreach, the final ward broke.
Altheris stood, unchained for the first time in epochs.
He looked to the surface and smiled.
> "Let the world forget… so that I may rewrite it."
And somewhere in the heavens, even the stars shivered.
---
The First Rewrite
The skies of Aerion wept ash.
Where once soared dragons and celestial lights, now drifted fragments of shattered constellations. Across the realm, people fell to their knees—some weeping, some screaming—as their minds struggled to hold onto names, places, realities that were being unmade.
At the heart of the distortion, time itself cracked like broken glass.
---
Altheris Walks
The moment Altheris stepped out of Nullreach, reality shifted.
The mountains of Vael'Korr, proud and defiant, crumbled into dust—not from force, but from forgetfulness. Entire bloodlines vanished in an instant. Their names erased from the Weave, their deeds unwritten from memory. Kingdoms whose banners once flew high fluttered… and dissolved.
> "This world is imperfect," Altheris spoke, each word rewriting a law of existence.
"Let us begin again. With order. With dominion."
With each step, he rewrote a corner of the world. Forests turned to obsidian gardens. Rivers reversed their flow. Children were born ancient, while elders forgot how to speak.
He didn't need armies.
He was the rewrite.
---
The Council of Fracture
In the floating city of Zephra'al, a storm raged—not of wind or rain, but of collapsing prophecy. The Oracles, once proud in their clarity, were now blind, their tongues speaking only in reverse.
Rheon, Kael'tharion, Lyssira, and four others gathered around the Crystal of Continuum.
> "We are watching the world die… not in blood, but in memory," Rheon said grimly.
"Altheris is rebuilding history—without us in it."
> "Then we must anchor ourselves outside of time," Lyssira replied, unfurling a forbidden scroll.
"The Last Chrono-Sanctum… we sealed it for a reason. But it may be the only place untouched."
The others hesitated. That place was madness. A maze of paradoxes, where one wrong word could erase your existence.
> "Then we have no choice," Kael'tharion said, his voice like iron.
"Altheris has begun his rewrite. We must write back."
---
In the Shadow of the Rewrite
Across the kingdoms, strange things bloomed.
Knights awoke to find themselves children again.
Graves opened, not with corpses, but memories given flesh.
The sun rose in the north, then set in the east.
The words "Chrono Dominion" began to burn on stone, as if the world was trying to remind itself what was being taken.
And in the ruins of Velmira, a small girl with silver eyes wept.
Her name was Elireth—once the first Chrono-Seer. She had been erased from history centuries ago.
And yet, she had returned.
Not as a hero.
But as Altheris' herald.
> "The world was wrong to forget me," she whispered.
"Now… they will remember only us."
---
The Rewrite Spreads
As Altheris stood at the highest peak of the Shattered Spine, he lifted his hands to the fractured skies.
Reality bowed.
And the first great rewrite began.
> Oceans inverted.
Languages reversed.
Light bent backward.
Time screamed.
And from the chaos, a new throne formed. Not of gold or bone—but pages. Pages torn from the book of time.
Altheris sat upon it.
> "Let the old world fall," he said.
"Let the Chrono Dominion reign."