The valley remained silent after the newcomer's revelation.
The Throne of Paths wasn't created.
It was inherited.
The statement lingered in the air long after the newcomer stopped speaking. Nobody seemed eager to continue the conversation. Even the endless shadows beyond the crimson doorway remained motionless beneath the blood-red light. The atmosphere felt heavy, as though reality itself was waiting for someone to explain what those words actually meant.
Ayan stood near the battlements while the bridge pulsed beneath his skin. The sensation had changed again. Earlier, it had felt like a collection of memories awakening one after another. Now it felt organized. Purposeful. The fragments were beginning to connect together.
That realization frightened him.
Because the more complete the memories became, the less they felt like someone else's life.
The newcomer appeared to notice.
Its gaze remained fixed on Ayan while the giant and the king exchanged worried looks. Neither ancient being seemed particularly pleased by the direction this conversation was heading.
Finally, Lucien broke the silence.
"Explain."
The single word echoed across the valley.
The newcomer sighed.
"I was hoping that wouldn't be necessary."
"Explain," Lucien repeated.
The newcomer glanced toward the crimson doorway. For a moment, it almost looked like it was considering whether answering was worth the effort. Then it shook its head and looked back toward Ayan.
"The bridge was never meant to belong to everyone."
The statement immediately drew attention.
The figure frowned.
The giant folded his arms.
The king remained silent.
The newcomer continued before anyone could interrupt.
"People remember the network. They remember the roads connecting worlds. They remember the gates and the pathways. What they don't remember is who controlled them."
Ayan felt the bridge pulse.
Another memory surfaced.
This time, he found himself standing atop an enormous platform suspended in darkness. Endless silver roads stretched in every direction. Countless lights traveled along those pathways, moving between worlds and civilizations.
The sight felt familiar.
Comfortably familiar.
Then he noticed something strange.
Everyone arriving on the platform looked toward the same place.
Not toward the roads.
Not toward the gates.
Toward the throne.
The memory ended.
Reality returned.
Ayan frowned.
The bridge continued pulsing steadily.
The newcomer noticed immediately.
"You saw it again."
Ayan nodded.
The ancient being closed its eyes briefly.
"Of course you did."
The reaction immediately bothered him.
Nobody looked surprised anymore.
They looked concerned.
Very concerned.
The figure finally stepped forward.
"You're suggesting the throne had an owner."
The newcomer looked toward it.
"Not an owner."
A brief pause followed.
Then it corrected itself.
"A successor."
The valley became silent.
The bridge pulsed harder.
The king slowly raised his head.
For the first time in several minutes, genuine tension appeared in his expression.
"You think he's remembering a predecessor."
The newcomer didn't answer immediately.
Its gaze drifted toward Ayan.
Then toward the crimson doorway.
Then back again.
Eventually, it nodded.
"I think he's remembering himself."
The world seemed to stop.
Ayan stared.
Lucien stared.
Aelira froze.
Even the giant looked shocked.
The statement felt absurd.
Impossible.
Completely ridiculous.
Ayan laughed once.
The sound lacked conviction.
"No."
Nobody responded.
The silence immediately made everything worse.
The newcomer didn't argue.
It didn't try to convince him.
That reaction somehow felt more terrifying than disagreement.
Ayan felt the bridge pulse again.
Then another memory surfaced.
A gigantic hall filled with countless civilizations.
Leaders.
Scholars.
Explorers.
Representatives from worlds beyond imagination.
The atmosphere felt tense.
At the far end of the chamber stood the Throne of Paths.
Someone occupied it.
The figure remained blurred.
Impossible to identify.
Yet Ayan felt a strange familiarity.
The memory lingered longer than usual.
Long enough for him to notice something important.
The person on the throne wasn't ruling.
They were listening.
The vision shattered.
Reality returned.
Ayan inhaled sharply.
The bridge continued vibrating.
The newcomer watched him carefully.
Its expression had become increasingly serious.
"What did you see?"
Ayan explained.
The giant cursed quietly.
The figure looked away.
The king closed his eyes.
Nobody seemed happy.
That reaction was becoming annoyingly predictable.
A cold wind swept across the mountains.
Above them, the crimson doorway trembled faintly. The endless shadows beyond the fracture remained kneeling, but their posture had changed. They looked increasingly restless.
Like soldiers waiting for something to arrive.
The newcomer noticed it too.
Its gaze shifted toward the darkness beyond the doorway.
For the first time since appearing, uncertainty crossed its face.
"That's not good."
The giant followed its gaze.
"It's getting closer."
The figure nodded.
"Much closer."
Ayan felt the bridge react.
The sensation wasn't fear.
It wasn't panic.
It felt like anticipation.
The realization unsettled him immediately.
The bridge wasn't afraid of whatever was approaching.
It was waiting for it.
Another memory surfaced.
Ayan saw a sky filled with fractures. Thousands of worlds connected by glowing roads stretched beyond the horizon. Entire civilizations traveled freely between realities while silver light illuminated everything.
Then someone spoke.
The voice echoed across the network.
A warning.
The atmosphere changed instantly.
People stopped moving.
Leaders looked upward.
Explorers abandoned their journeys.
Every road began closing.
One after another.
The memory accelerated.
Panic spread.
The warning repeated.
Again.
And again.
And again.
The vision shattered before he could hear the words.
Reality returned.
Ayan's heart was racing.
The bridge pulsed violently.
The newcomer immediately noticed.
"You heard the warning."
Ayan nodded.
"I couldn't understand it."
The newcomer smiled sadly.
"I was afraid of that."
The statement immediately captured everyone's attention.
The giant frowned.
"What aren't you saying?"
The newcomer remained silent for several moments.
The crimson doorway trembled again.
A ripple spread through the darkness beyond the fracture.
Every shadow visible within the abyss immediately lowered its head further.
The atmosphere became suffocating.
Eventually, the newcomer looked toward the king.
Then the figure.
Then Ayan.
Its expression had become completely serious.
"The warning was never meant for the civilizations."
Silence followed.
The bridge pulsed.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The newcomer's gaze remained fixed on Ayan.
"It was meant for the successor."
A cold feeling spread through his chest.
Because suddenly—
The memories didn't feel random anymore.
They felt targeted.
Deliberate.
Like messages left behind.
The newcomer slowly folded its arms.
"The network knew this day would come. The throne knew. Even Genesis knew."
Its voice grew quieter.
"The only person who didn't know was the one meant to inherit it."
Far beyond the crimson doorway, something moved.
The darkness shifted.
The endless shadows lowered themselves completely.
And for the first time since the fracture opened—
Ayan felt the bridge answer.
Not with a memory.
Not with a vision.
With a single thought.
Welcome back.
The words echoed through his mind.
And deep within the crimson abyss, something ancient began to laugh.