The Creed's memory chamber was an enigma, a labyrinth of forgotten histories sealed behind layers of twisted magic. Zhao Wei stood at its threshold, the torn scroll in her hand vibrating with a hum that felt both ancient and intimate. The inked symbols flickered, shifting in and out of focus, as if beckoning her into a past that had been kept hidden for millennia.

  The air around her thickened, crackling with tension, as though the very fabric of reality was warping to let her pass. She stepped forward, each movement careful, precise. The stones beneath her feet whispered secrets, and the flickering light of the torches lined up along the chamber walls seemed to grow colder, more distant. As she entered, the chamber unfolded like a forgotten memory, the walls lined with scrolls and records of all that had been erased by the Creed.

  Zhao Wei knew she was alone here. The Ember would not follow her into this place; only she, with her fractured soul, could access it. Her bond to the forbidden spirit, the one she had severed so many years ago was the key. It was what allowed her to pierce the veil of time itself.

  The room was vast, stretching far beyond what should have been possible. Her footsteps echoed, bouncing off the stone walls, as her gaze fell upon a pedestal at the center. There, on a raised stone platform, rested an ancient tome. The cover was black, embossed with symbols she didn't recognize, but they pulsed with an energy that felt both inviting and menacing.

  Zhao Wei's heart quickened. She approached it cautiously, her fingers brushing against the surface. The moment her skin made contact, the book’s pages flipped open as though by an invisible hand, revealing a prophecy. The ink was still fresh, like the words had only been written moments ago.

  Her eyes traced the words, and she froze. The prophecy spoke of a time when the fractured souls would rise, when the veil between the living and the dead would thin. It spoke of a lost ruler, someone from her past, someone she had loved. The name was unfamiliar, but the description was unmistakable: a face she had seen in her dreams, a person who had been lost to the ages.

  The words shimmered as if alive, and Zhao Wei’s hand trembled as she turned the page. The prophecy unfolded, revealing more, each line more chilling than the last. The ruler, it said, would return from the ashes, reborn into a time when all hope seemed lost. But there was a price: the soul would be split, torn between two worlds, each one fighting for control.

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  Zhao Wei's mind reeled. She had always known that her past was tied to something greater, something far beyond her understanding. But this… This was something else. The face she had seen in the prophecy, it was familiar. It was someone she had loved, someone she had trusted.

  But how? How could they still be alive? She had seen them die.

  A flash of memories surged within her, a battlefield, flames rising higher than the sky, the face of a fallen hero. Her breath caught in her throat as the image began to shift. The flames blurred, and in their place was a shadow, tall, cloaked in darkness. A figure who moved with a quiet grace, whose eyes gleamed with a knowing sadness.

  Her heart stuttered.

  The figure was gone, but the prophecy remained, etched into her mind like a wound that refused to heal. She had to know more.

  She turned the page again.

  But before she could read further, the chamber shook. The walls groaned, and the air became thick with an oppressive force. Something was coming. A presence, darker and more ancient than anything she had ever faced. The flames in the torches flickered wildly, casting eerie shadows across the chamber.

  Zhao Wei drew her blade, ready for whatever would emerge from the shadows. The pages of the prophecy fluttered as if caught in an unseen wind. She couldn't allow herself to be distracted, not now. Not when the truth was so close, so agonizingly close.

  And then, from the darkness, a voice.

  "You should not have come here, Zhao Wei."

  Her heart sank. It was him.

  The figure from her dreams.

  The one she had never expected to see again.

  And yet here he was, standing in the doorway of the chamber, a silhouette bathed in shadow.

  "You're... you're alive?" Her voice was a whisper, a breathless question.

  He didn’t answer, only stepped forward. His presence was as suffocating as the darkened room around them. Zhao Wei’s hand tightened around the hilt of her blade, but she didn’t attack. Not yet. Not until she had answers.

  The figure’s eyes gleamed with an unsettling calm as he closed the distance between them.

  "Yes," he said softly, the word a curse and a promise.

  Zhao Wei felt her world tilt. The prophecy had spoken of this moment, but she had never imagined it would be him, the person she had believed to be lost forever.

  "Why?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

  The figure’s gaze softened. "To save you. And to destroy everything you’ve built."

  The words rang in Zhao Wei’s ears like a final judgment. She had spent so long piecing together the remnants of her past, trying to understand the forces that had shaped her life. But now, in this chamber of forgotten memories, the truth was more than she could bear.

  Her soul, already torn between the living and the dead, had one last riddle to solve.

  The figure before her was her past. But he was also the key to her future.

  And in the space between those two worlds, Zhao Wei would find her true purpose or her undoing.