Darius woke to silence.

  Not the silence of an empty room.

  Not the silence of the dead.

  But the silence of a pce that had never been.

  He sat up sharply, his breath uneven.

  The sky above him was clear.

  The nd around him was untouched.

  And where the great city of Solmaria had once stood— There was nothing. No ruins. No rubble. No sign that it had ever been built. It was just open fields. As if Solmaria had been a dream. And Darius was the only one who had woken up.

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  His hands clenched into the grass beneath him. His heart smmed against his ribs.

  No.

  No, no, no.

  He forced himself to his feet, his breath uneven. This was not possible. He turned sharply—his eyes scanning the horizon. A vilge. Small, simple structures nestled near a river. Darius moved. Step by step, forcing his body to obey. The moment he reached the outskirts, he saw them—people. Farmers tending to their fields. Children ughing near the water. Merchants loading carts for trade. Darius exhaled sharply. They were real. And they were alive. His footsteps quickened. "Excuse me—" A man turned.

  His expression was not one of fear. Not of confusion. Not even of concern. He just smiled politely. "Afternoon, traveler." Darius' stomach turned to ice. This vilge should not exist. These people should have fled Solmaria long ago. But they stood there—content. Because to them, nothing had changed. Darius forced his voice to remain steady. "Solmaria." The man blinked. "Pardon?" "Solmaria," Darius repeated. "The capital—where is it?"

  The man frowned.

  For the first time, a flicker of confusion passed through his features. Darius took a step forward. "You remember, don't you?" The man tilted his head. "I—" His breath caught. His lips parted. And then—his expression rexed. "Oh," he chuckled. "You mean Solmar? Ah, I see. You must be thinking of the old ruins to the east."

  Darius froze.

  Ruins?

  The man gestured casually. "The old foundations have been there for centuries. Never seen a kingdom in these parts, though." His tone was so casual. So certain. And that was when Darius understood. This is not a lie. The man was not deceived. He was not hiding the truth.

  To him, Solmaria had never existed. Darius staggered back. His mind spun. This was wrong. This was wrong. The memories were being rewritten. Not just erased—repced. And he was the only one who knew.

  Darius turned. His breath was heavy.

  He needed to find someone—anyone—who remembered. And then— He saw the banners. Near the edge of the vilge, a group of warriors stood. Their armor was adorned in silver and blue, their spears bearing sigils of wind and storm.

  His pulse sharpened.

  The Skyfury Sovereigns. One of Celestara's mightiest forces. If anyone remembered Solmaria—it would be them. Darius approached. The warriors turned. And at the center of them, a man stepped forward. Tall, cd in battle-forged pte, his stance one of absolute authority. Darius recognized him instantly. Lord-Commander Veylen Stormrend.

  A general.

  A war hero.

  A man who had stood beside Solmaria's rulers. Darius exhaled in relief. "Veylen." The commander stared at him. No recognition. No familiarity. Nothing.

  Darius felt something cold press into his chest. Veylen crossed his arms. "You speak as if we are familiar, traveler." Darius' throat went dry.

  No. No, this was wrong.

  "Veylen," he said again, slower this time. "It's me. Darius Vaelthorne."

  Silence.

  Then, a flicker of something unreadable passed through Veylen's expression. He studied Darius for a long moment. Then— He shook his head. "I do not know you." The words hit harder than any bde. Darius' body locked in pce. Veylen continued, his tone calm. "And I do not know this 'Solmaria' you speak of." Darius staggered backward. Veylen's eyes remained steady. There was no deception. No hesitation.

  He was telling the truth.

  And in that moment, Darius realized— He was the only soul in Celestara who still remembered what had been lost.

  That night, Darius sat alone at the edge of the vilge.

  The stars stretched above him, vast and endless.

  And yet, they felt dimmer than before.

  His hands clenched into his cloak. His breath was uneven.

  He could still see the city in his mind. The golden banners. The shining towers. The people who had lived, breathed, fought, loved. And now, it was all gone. The only proof of its existence was the ache in his chest. Darius gritted his teeth.

  He would not let it end like this.

  He would find the truth.

  He would find who else still remembered. And he would fight against the nothing. Because if he did not— Then he knew the next name to be forgotten, would be his own.