The door stood before them.
It wasn't made of stone or wood. It wasn't glowing like fire or shining like the sun. It just… was. A soft, steady light. Gentle. Quiet. But behind it—something waited.
Ren took a slow breath.
His hand trembled a little. Not from fear, but from everything he felt—curiosity, tension, hope, and something he couldn't name. Beside him, Sora reached out and held his wrist.
"We don't know what's beyond this," she said.
"We never do," Hina added, stepping up. "But we're not alone."
That was enough.
Ren stepped forward. The door responded. It didn't open with a loud sound. It simply… faded.
And the world beyond it opened.
---
It was white.
Just white.
Not empty. Not full.
Not cold. Not warm.
Just… white.
Like a space between worlds.
Ren, Sora, and Hina walked into it, their footsteps making no sound. There was no floor, no walls, but they weren't falling. The light held them. Surrounded them.
Then, a voice spoke.
Not from ahead. Not from behind. It came from everywhere.
"Welcome to the Fourth Veil."
Ren turned.
No one was there.
But something stirred.
In the white space, lines began to form—threads of light weaving across the space like paths. Each thread glowed with a color—red, gold, blue, green, black. Some were bright. Some flickered. Some were tangled, broken, or barely there.
"The Threads of Fate," Hina whispered.
The voice spoke again.
"Here, your steps are no longer your own. To walk forward, you must first look back."
A thread floated toward Ren.
It was pale gray. Almost colorless.
His Name.
Or what was left of it.
It hovered in front of him, wavering like mist. Weak. Fragile. Almost like it could vanish at any moment.
Sora's thread was golden and alive, bright like fire.
Hina's thread was deep violet, steady and silent.
Ren reached for his.
And the moment he touched it—
---
—He saw himself.
A boy.
Alone.
Sitting by a broken shrine in his village. The stars above him dead. The world around him quiet. The children didn't speak to him. The elders forgot his name.
He was a ghost in his own home.
But he didn't cry.
He watched the stars, night after night, hoping they'd return. Not for him, but because the sky without stars made the world feel lonely.
He saw the old man who gave him food once. The kind woman who called him "boy" instead of "you." He saw every moment he wanted to be seen… and wasn't.
The memory faded.
Back in the white world, Ren opened his eyes. His chest ached.
"That's the price," Hina said softly. "To walk the Threads, we must carry the weight of our truth."
Sora had tears on her cheeks. "Then let's carry it."
---
They followed their threads.
The world shifted.
Images flickered. Voices called. Some whispered lies. Some spoke truths that hurt. But Ren kept walking. The mark on his hand glowed faintly with each step. A rhythm. A beat. Like his Name was waking up.
Then, they reached the center.
A single pedestal stood there.
And above it—
A mask.
White. Plain. No mouth. No eyes.
But it felt alive.
Ren stepped forward.
"This is the Mirror Mask," Hina said. "It lets you see the self you fear most."
Ren looked at it.
He didn't know why, but he reached out.
The moment his fingers touched the mask—
---
—He saw himself again.
But not the boy.
It was him, older. Cold. Powerful. Standing above cities in ruins. His mark glowed dark red. Names fell from the sky like broken feathers. He saw people bowing. Crying. Dying.
And he was calm.
Not cruel.
Just… numb.
A god with no heart.
Ren staggered back.
"No," he whispered. "That's not me."
But the mask hovered, silent.
The voice returned.
"That is the end of your path. Unless you choose another."
Ren's hands clenched. "Then I'll carve a new path. My own. One with no fate. No chains. Just… choice."
The mask burned away.
The threads glowed.
And from the sky above—
A single Name drifted down.
One word.
Ren.
Not given.
Not stolen.
His.
---
The light dimmed.
The white faded.
And they were standing at the end of the veil.
Sora looked at him. "Are you okay?"
Ren nodded slowly. "I know who I am."
Hina smiled. "Then we move forward."
The next path opened.
And so, they walked.
Into the next secret.
Into the heart of fate itself.
---
To be continued…