FROM A FORGOTTEN PAST, AND THE CALL OF DESTINY (Part 4 – Final)
Night fell like a dark velvet cloak, draping the forest in an almost supernatural stillness. The stars flickered through torn shreds of clouds, while a thin mist curled between the trees, sliding along the ground and leaving behind a faint scent of wet earth and ancient sap.
The group had set up a small camp around a timidly crackling bonfire. Its heat was weak—barely enough to chase away the chill that clung to the night. The silence was heavy, filled with unspoken thoughts and shared worries that passed between them in quick, uneasy glances.
Caelithra remained at Zyrion's side, who still lay unconscious upon a makeshift bed of blankets. She had not left him, not even when exhaustion weighed down her eyelids.
Kyrahna sat on a nearby log, sharpening her sword in a steady rhythm, her gaze fixed on the blade but her attention undeniably anchored to Zyrion.
Velkran and Quindarion spoke in low voices, exchanging theories about how to break the curse still pulsing faintly beneath Zyrion's skin.
Karion, unusually quiet, held the amulet at his neck, his normally cheerful expression dulled and distant.
Taliena stood with her arms crossed, keeping watch over the perimeter of the camp, every sense alert.
A sudden gust of wind swept through the forest, nearly extinguishing the fire. Everyone lifted their heads.
A faint groan stirred beneath the blankets.
Caelithra leaned in immediately, her voice trembling with emotion.
"Zyrion! Can you hear me? I'm right here, please…"
Zyrion shifted weakly. His trembling fingers searched blindly through the air… until they touched Caelithra's hand.
"Caelithra…" he whispered, his voice hoarse, as though speaking drained him to the very core.
She let out a sob of relief, squeezing his hand tightly.
"Yes, yes, I'm here. Don't worry. You're safe. I'm not leaving you."
Zyrion slowly opened his eyes beneath the white mask—eyes reddened, heavy with pain.
"Where… where am I?" he murmured, glancing around in confusion.
Quindarion stepped closer, torn between relief and concern.
"Among friends, Zyrion. You're safe—for now."
Velkran clicked his tongue.
"You nearly scared us to death, friend. One more minute and you would've smashed half the group into paste."
Zyrion shut his eyes, as if being struck by violent memories.
"I… remember… pain… a fire burning inside me. And then…" his voice cracked, "a mask… iron… blood… I couldn't breathe…"
Caelithra brushed his forehead gently, tears slipping down her cheeks.
"Shh, don't speak if it hurts."
But Zyrion shook his head weakly.
"I have to remember. I need to know what happened to me… so it doesn't happen again."
Karion approached, his steps slow and deliberate.
"Do you remember the masked man? Voryn?"
Zyrion nodded faintly.
"He… he cursed me. Something… something I can't remove… something that's inside."
Taliena frowned, kneeling beside him.
"What did you see before they put the mask on you?"
Zyrion closed his eyes, his breathing uneven.
"Darkness. Voices. A vow… a scream that wasn't mine. I made a promise… but it wasn't me speaking…"
Velkran slammed his fist against his own leg in frustration.
"Damn it! This isn't normal. It's like… like someone put another soul inside you."
Quindarion exchanged a glance with Taliena.
"A partial possession," he murmured. "A white iron mask… it's not just an object. It's a seal. An anchor."
Caelithra squeezed Zyrion's hand harder.
"No matter what it is—we'll help you. Do you hear me? You're not alone."
Zyrion turned his head slightly toward her, his gaze blurred by pain and exhaustion.
"I don't… want to hurt you," he whispered.
"You can't," she replied firmly. "Not as long as I believe in you."
Kyrahna stepped forward, her voice sharp with purpose.
"We move at dawn. We can't stay here long. If Voryn or his people come looking for him again, we won't be able to stop them all."
Quindarion nodded.
"Velkran and I will take shifts on watch. We move as soon as there's light."
Velkran watched Zyrion in silence before kneeling down to meet his eyes.
"Listen—mask or not, possessed or not—you're still part of this group. And as long as you're breathing, we're not letting you turn into something else."
A faint shimmer of emotion lit Zyrion's weary eyes.
"Thank you… all of you."
Karion let out a small laugh, some of his usual spark returning.
"Well, don't make me regret this, Zyrion. It's strange enough seeing myself get sentimental."
Caelithra let out a teary laugh, brushing a strand of hair from Zyrion's forehead.
"Rest. Tomorrow… will be another day."
The group settled around the fire again, renewing their watch. The mist crept between the trees like cold fingers, but beside the fragile warmth of the flames, Zyrion found a momentary refuge from the chaos burning inside him.
And deep within his mind—somewhere dark, where the mask whispered—a foreign voice laughed quietly, waiting for its moment to return.
Dawn arrived, but brought no promise of a new day. The sky was a canvas of ash-gray, the sun barely piercing through the thick, oppressive haze. The air was cold and heavy, as if the world itself held its breath.
The group packed the camp in silence. Each movement was slow, almost solemn, as if afraid to disturb the fragile sense of unity keeping them together.
Zyrion remained seated, wrapped in his cloak, still weak. His gaze was hidden behind the white mask fused to his skin. His fingers trembled as he fastened his belt, fighting the lingering weakness.
Caelithra stayed at his side the entire time, wordless but unwavering in her quiet support.
Kyrahna walked past them, inspecting her gear.
"We leave in minutes. Stay close. I'm not losing anyone in this mist."
Velkran finished sharpening his sword and turned to Zyrion.
"Think you can walk, friend?"
Zyrion rose on unsteady legs, leaning on Caelithra's arm.
"If I can't walk… then I'll crawl," he said, voice soft but determined.
Quindarion smiled faintly.
"That's the spirit."
Meanwhile, Taliena approached Karion, who remained perched on a rock, staring vacantly at the ground.
"You alright?" she asked quietly.
Karion took a long moment to answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was unusually serious.
"I miss when everything was just an adventure… when I only worried about dumb jokes and finding the best tree to sleep under."
Taliena sat beside him, observing his expression.
"You're still you, Karion. It's just… reality weighs heavier now."
Karion let out a dry laugh.
"And to think I used to joke about dying crushed by a dragon."
Taliena nudged him lightly.
"You haven't changed that much. You've just… grown. And that's not a bad thing."
Karion glanced at her, and for a brief moment, a genuine smile flickered across his face.
"Maybe you're right."
Meanwhile, Caelithra adjusted Zyrion's cloak, ensuring he wasn't exposed to the cold.
"You don't have to pretend you're fine," she whispered, her eyes filled with tenderness and sadness.
Zyrion lowered his gaze.
"I don't want to be a burden."
Caelithra shook her head gently.
"You're not a burden. You're our friend. My friend. And if the world thinks otherwise… then the world will have to deal with me."
A faint smile formed beneath Zyrion's mask, though the physical pain still throbbed through him like burning embers.
"Thank you, Caelithra."
"Always," she murmured, holding his hand firmly.
Kyrahna approached the group.
"Alright. We head west, through the hidden trail of the Black Forest. There's an old refuge there—a sacred cave Taliena knows. That will be our next stop."
Velkran raised a brow.
"The Black Forest? Isn't that place… cursed?"
Taliena nodded.
"It was. But the seals were purified decades ago. We should be safe… if we move quickly."
Quindarion sent Velkran a meaningful look.
"Then let's not waste any time."
They set off.
They moved in a tight formation—Zyrion at the center, guarded by Caelithra and Kyrahna, with Velkran and Quindarion leading the way.
The fog was so thick the trees looked like wooden ghosts. The crunch of branches underfoot was the only sound breaking the grave-like quiet.
With each step, Zyrion felt echoes of his torment stirring. His memories were fractured shards: screams, blood, the cold iron mask melting into his skin, the echo of promises he didn't remember making.
A sharp pain—deep, cutting—made him stop. Caelithra instantly turned toward him.
"Zyrion?"
He clenched his teeth.
"I'm fine… keep moving."
But Caelithra refused to step away.
"Rest for a moment. We're not soldiers fleeing from war. We're with you."
Kyrahna also stopped, scanning the woods with sharp eyes.
"We can't move forward if someone falls behind."
Velkran grumbled, but nodded.
"Five minutes. No more."
They regrouped in a moss-covered clearing. Zyrion lowered himself onto a stone, breath trembling.
The wind whispered through the trees—and for a moment, Zyrion sensed a presence. As if someone, or something, watched him through the mist.
He lifted his head, narrow-eyed.
A shadow flickered.
A whisper in a forgotten language.
He blinked, and the vision vanished.
Caelithra noticed his expression.
"What do you see?"
Zyrion hesitated.
"Something… or someone… is following us."
Taliena and Kyrahna drew their weapons instantly, scanning the surroundings.
Velkran growled, unsheathing his blade.
"Let them come. This time, they won't be so lucky."
Quindarion placed a hand on Velkran's shoulder.
"Don't seek the fight. If something follows us… it may not be alone."
The group tightened their formation, nerves on edge.
Zyrion clenched his hands on his knees, fighting the fear crawling through his chest.
The danger wasn't just outside.
It was the darkness pulsing within him… waiting.
Waiting for the right moment to take him.
And in the depths of his mind, a broken, cruel voice whispered:
"Soon, Zyrion… soon you will remember who you truly are…"
TO BE CONTINUED…