Whispers of the Unburied

Part 1: The Weight of Forgotten Bonds

Aedric did not sit. He remained standing, watching Elias with a wary stillness, his grip tightening around the journal. The warmth of the hearth did little to ease the chill settling deep in his bones.

Elias sighed, leaning back in his chair, fingers tapping idly against the armrest. "You still don't trust me, do you?"

Aedric's jaw clenched. "Should I?"

For a moment, Elias said nothing. The silence stretched between them, a thread pulled too tight, ready to snap. Then, he exhaled a slow, tired breath and gestured toward the journal in Aedric's hand. "Have you read it yet?"

Aedric hesitated. "Some of it. The ink shifts. The words don't stay long enough for me to make sense of them."

Elias smirked. "Good. That means you're not ready."

Aedric's patience frayed. "What does that mean? Ready for what?" He took a sharp step forward, shadows flickering across his face. "Why is my name carved into that chamber? Why do they say I've been here before?"

Elias's expression darkened, his fingers stilling against the chair's wood. "Because you have, Aedric. Again and again. And each time, you forget. Just like they want you to."

The words settled heavily in the space between them, suffocating in their weight. Aedric's heartbeat pounded in his ears, his grip on the journal tightening as the implications clawed their way through his thoughts.

Again and again.

Aedric's memories stirred, like fragments of a broken mirror piecing together in the dark. Fleeting images—faces he could not name, places he could not recall—rose and fell before he could grasp them. The sense of déjà vu thickened, wrapping around him like an invisible chain. Had he stood here before? Had he asked these same questions?

Aedric exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if to rid himself of the creeping unease. "If I've been here before, why don't I remember?"

Elias's smirk faltered. "Because they take it from you. Every time."

Part 2: The Ruins Beneath the Veil

Elias stood, moving toward the far wall where a tapestry hung, its faded threads barely holding together. He grasped the fabric and tore it down in one swift motion, revealing a passageway carved into the stone, leading into a darkness untouched by the firelight.

Aedric hesitated. "What is this?"

Elias stepped inside, his voice calm, steady. "The only way forward."

Aedric followed, his steps cautious, his mind racing. The passage narrowed before opening into a vast underground hall, its walls lined with ancient, crumbling murals. Shadows danced across the stone as Elias lit a torch, revealing faded images—scenes of war, of sacrifice, of figures bowing before unseen gods.

But one image caught Aedric's eye.

A depiction of two figures—identical in form—standing on opposite sides of a shattered world.

Aedric's stomach churned. "This is… us."

Elias nodded. "It always has been."

Aedric turned to face him, frustration flaring. "Then tell me what it means. Stop speaking in riddles."

Elias met his gaze, and for the first time, Aedric saw it—the exhaustion buried deep in his brother's eyes, the weight of knowledge carried alone for far too long.

"It means," Elias said quietly, "that this world is not what you think it is. That we are not who we think we are. And that everything—the cycle, the forgetting, the whispers—was made to keep us from knowing the truth."

The chamber groaned, the walls trembling as if the very stone rebelled against the words spoken within them. Dust cascaded from the ceiling, and the air thickened with an energy Aedric could feel pressing against his skin.

"They know we're here," Elias murmured. "We don't have much time."

Aedric traced the carvings on the walls, trying to make sense of them. More scenes, more symbols—shattered cities, figures in agony, a great rift splitting the sky apart. A prophecy? A warning? Or a record of something that had already happened?

A chill ran through him. The whispers were returning.

Part 3: The Breaking Point

A low hum filled the air, reverberating through the chamber like a distant, unseen force stirring awake. Aedric's pulse quickened as the murals flickered, their images twisting, warping, as if trying to rewrite themselves.

Elias grabbed his arm. "We need to go. Now."

But Aedric couldn't move. His eyes locked onto the shifting murals, memories clawing at the edges of his mind. Flashes of something—of himself, standing here before, of Elias, warning him of the same fate, the same cycle, the same end.

He gasped as a splitting pain shot through his skull, a tide of fragmented memories rushing forward, too fast to grasp, too much to hold onto—

A blade flashing in the dark. A voice screaming his name. A city burning beneath a sky that should not exist. Elias reaching for him—

And then, the weight of forgetting. The crushing silence of oblivion.

Aedric staggered back, breath ragged. "I remember."

Elias's grip tightened. "Then you know why we have to run."

The chamber shook violently, the murals splintering as cracks raced through the stone. Aedric forced his legs to move, following Elias as they ran toward a crumbling archway at the end of the hall. The hum had become a roar, a force rising behind them like a wave ready to crash.

Aedric dared one last glance over his shoulder—

And saw them.

The figures from the chamber of names, the ones who watched, the ones who whispered. They had followed.

But they were no longer waiting.

They were reaching for him.

Elias shoved him forward. "Go!"

They dove through the archway just as the chamber collapsed behind them, stone and dust swallowing the past, sealing away the truth once more.

But Aedric knew, even as they stumbled into the unknown—

The cycle had already begun to break.