The air grew heavy as the Heralds of the Underworld began tracing circles on the ground to begin the rite.
Seirion stood motionless before Erian's still body. The glow of the runes illuminated his face in flickering bursts, and for an instant, his expression softened.
There was hope in his eyes, a fragile certainty that he wouldn't lose Erian again, but also the fear of facing what he had buried deep within his mind for centuries.
Vael stood at his side.
"The lock is still there, Seirion. We can't break it. When you cross time, your memories will blur. You might get confused… you may not be able to tell enemies from allies."
Seirion didn't look away from Erian.
"I don't care," he said, his voice breaking but resolute. "If that's the price to bring him back, I'll pay it. I just need to know who cursed him and why."
Vael frowned but said nothing.
