Nyxborn-The Forgotten Etherium

Renar and Vael stood in the heart of the Order, the weight of the reclaimer's words still hanging heavily in the air. The First Epoch. World-Weavers. The secrets of their past, the knowledge of their erased identities—it was almost too much to comprehend. They were close. So close.

But there was still something missing.

"We need to know how to stop the Order," Renar muttered, his mind still spinning from the revelations. "We need to know how to reclaim our power before it's too late."

Vael remained silent beside him, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. The revelation that he and Renar were once World-Weavers was still sinking in, the weight of it almost suffocating. The possibility of unlocking their true potential could change everything—but they needed guidance, they needed answers.

They weren't alone in this search. There was someone else in the shadows—someone who had been watching them from the moment they arrived in the heart of the Order.

She appeared out of nowhere.

One moment, the hall was silent. The next, a faint shimmer of dark light rippled through the air, and from it stepped a figure—a woman cloaked in flowing robes of deep indigo and silver. Her presence was overwhelming, as though the very air around her bent in deference to her power. Her eyes—ice-blue, sharp as daggers—were the first things Renar noticed.

Vael's hand instinctively went to the hilt of his sword, but the woman's eyes locked onto him, piercing, as if reading him through and through.

"Do you truly seek the truth?" her voice rang out, calm yet commanding. There was an unshakable certainty in her tone, as though she had seen all there was to see and knew what was to come.

Renar instinctively tensed, stepping forward protectively in front of Vael. "Who are you?"

The woman smiled faintly. "A friend—or an enemy, depending on the choice you make."

Renar's eyes narrowed. There was something eerily familiar about her—a feeling deep in his gut that he couldn't place, yet it gnawed at him. Her presence was… too significant to ignore.

The woman regarded them both for a long moment before she spoke again. "I see you've learned the truth, but you don't understand its weight. It's a burden, one that the Order would prefer you never lifted."

Renar's heartbeat quickened. "How do you know this?"

She took a step forward, a quiet confidence in her every movement. "Because I've walked the path you've just begun. I've seen what the Order hides. I know why they erased you. I know who you truly are."

Vael's gaze flickered, a glint of recognition forming. "You're one of them," he muttered—his voice strained, as if something deep inside him was trying to understand. "A sorceress of the Order?"

She nodded. "Once. But I am no longer bound to their chains."

The woman stepped closer, eyes never leaving theirs. "I am Lady Elira Vaelthorn, former High Sorceress of the Order, and Guardian of the Forgotten Gate."

Renar's heart skipped. "You—" His thoughts rushed, but he couldn't find the words. The name Vaelthorn had significance, a connection to Vael that he couldn't quite piece together.

"Yes," she interrupted, as if reading his thoughts. "I know who you are, Vael. You and Renar were part of something that was erased from time itself."

Vael took a step back, his confusion only growing. "You know who we are?"

Elira's eyes softened, but there was a bitter edge to her voice. "I knew you both, long before the Order sealed your memories away. We were once—" She hesitated. "We were once allies. But now, there's only us."

Renar's mind was spinning. The connection she spoke of was impossible to ignore—the World-Weavers—but Elira's sudden appearance and her knowledge of their erased past raised more questions than answers.

"So, you were one of us?" Renar asked. The weight of her words echoed through the chamber, stirring something deep within him. If she was indeed one of the World-Weavers, she could provide the guidance they so desperately needed.

Elira nodded, her expression growing darker. "I was. But when I discovered the true purpose of the Order, when I uncovered the truth about what we were meant to do, I realized that I could never go back."

Vael's eyes narrowed. "And what truth is that?"

Elira's gaze shifted, her voice dropping to a whisper. "We were never meant to be protectors. We were meant to be the ones who shaped this world. We were gods in the making, capable of turning the tides of history. But the Order feared us. They erased us to prevent the world from falling into chaos."

Renar's chest tightened. Everything they had believed—the Order, their erased memories—was a lie.

Elira took another step forward, her eyes meeting Vael's directly. "The truth is far more dangerous than you realize. And the Order will stop at nothing to ensure it remains buried. But you two…" She glanced at Renar, then back at Vael. "You're different. You're on the verge of awakening your true power."

Vael clenched his fists. "How do we stop them?"

Elira smiled, though it was laced with sadness. "You can't stop them. Not without first understanding the full extent of your power. You must learn to control it, or risk destroying everything."

Renar's voice was firm. "Then help us."

Elira hesitated, as if weighing her decision. Finally, she nodded. "I will. But only if you're ready to face the consequences. The path ahead is treacherous, and once you open the door to your past, there's no turning back."