SHATTERED REALM: FORGOTTEN ECHOES-Chapter 89: The Path We Chose.

The room was utterly devoid of light—no windows, no warmth, no trace of the world above. Just the cold hum of the alchemic chains and the silence of isolation. The space was far too large for just three people, as though designed to make them feel even smaller... more forgotten.

Aramith lay unconscious, breath shallow but steadier now. Aiden knelt beside him, the last wisps of green light from his healing ability fading into the air like dying embers. His task complete, Aiden stood wordlessly and walked out, the door sealing behind him with a dull metallic thud.

Lynnor sat curled against the far wall, her hair hiding her face, her chains slack on the floor. She hadn’t moved. Not since they brought her in.

Mozrael remained seated, but only barely. Every muscle in her body trembled—not from fear, but from rage. The same rage that had been simmering since they were dragged into this place. Her chains didn’t rattle, yet the tension in her limbs made them seem like they might. She didn’t scream. She didn’t move. She simply stared ahead, her eyes locked on the space across from her like it was daring her to breathe wrong.

The silence in the chamber was dense, pressing against their chests like an invisible weight.

Mozrael’s breaths came sharp and ragged, her eyes flicking between the others and the cold, stone floor. She wasn’t sure how long they’d been here—minutes? hours? Time twisted in a place like this, but every moment felt like it dragged her deeper into a storm she couldn’t escape.

Her gaze drifted to Aramith’s form. He lay still beside her, unconscious but no longer bleeding. A faint green hue had just faded from his wounds moments ago—Aiden’s healing. She should have been relieved. But all she could feel was a sick churn of dread.

She clenched her fists, and her chains clinked softly in response.

Why? Why did this happen? Why was he the one lying there broken? What had he even done? Her memory flashed to the sight of him crumpling after the blow—Henndar’s blow. Their father.

Her vision swam. No, this wasn’t confusion. It wasn’t disbelief. It was something far more primal.

It was betrayal.

Her lips parted, but no words came. Her throat was too dry. Her thoughts are too loud.

Then, her eyes fell on Lynnor.

She hadn’t moved. Not once. She sat with her head bowed low, her expression unreadable beneath her dark hair. 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

Mozrael stared. Why was she here? Hadn’t she been banished, sent away with no promise of return? Then how? How did she end up here, captured with them? And more importantly... why wasn’t she saying anything?

The longer she looked at her, the more an unsettling chill crawled up her spine. Something wasn’t right.

But before she could dwell on it, the space in front of them rippled like water disturbed by a falling stone.

Then came the sound—shhk! A clean, unnatural tear in space. A long gash of white opened in the air before them.

Out stepped Henndar.

Mozrael’s breath caught in her throat.

He looked the same. Tall, composed, cloaked in that ever-calm authority. But his presence now carried something else—a pressure, a weight that crushed down on the already-thick air.

The Deadlock, silently watching in the shadows, immediately bowed as one, heads lowered in reverence.

Mozrael didn’t bow. Couldn’t.

Her eyes locked on him with trembling hatred.

Henndar’s gaze swept over them—his expression unreadable save for the faintest furrow in his brow, like a man appraising something that once held promise but had lost its worth.

Then, in a voice low but firm, he gave his first command.

"Bring them forward."

There was a chair, but Henndar ignored it. He looked down on them with a calm gaze, though tinged with a bit of anger and disappointment.

He conjured a needle, then flicked it at Aramith. The boy opened his eyes, gasping for air. His eyes darted about in confusion, trying to make out his surroundings, but he was lost. When he tried to move, the chains rattled and shimmered, sending a small zap into his joints when he pulled too hard.

"Aramith."

His head jerked up to look at his father, then he frowned. This wasn’t his father anymore.

"Before anything, I want you to know that you have successfully dragged Mozrael into this, and she doesn’t even know what is going on."

"No." Aramith didn’t understand.

"Well, you were unconscious when she finally arrived. Why don’t you look at her?" Henndar pointed to his side.

Aramith couldn’t believe it. Why was Mozrael here as well? She was supposed to be with Lia.

Mozrael wanted to smile, but she couldn’t. She didn’t understand at all what was going on.

Ignoring the panic on Aramith’s face, Henndar explained what was going on and the fact that Aramith had chosen to fight his father, the king, over an outsider, a killer, and enemy of the kingdom.

"I could ask you why you did all that, but you won’t have any answer. Take a good look at the person you tried so hard to save."

Deadlock 8 dragged Lynnor from the side, putting her before Aramith. "Look at her, and tell me if this was worth what you sought."

Lynnor didn’t raise her head, whether it was out of shame, fear, or hopelessness, Aramith couldn’t tell, but he was sure he’d done the right thing.

You saved her...

You’ve accomplished greatness...

Well done...

Good Job...

The voices returned, not as whispers this time, but like echoes bouncing inside his skull, warm and approving — cruelly so. But that was all about to be thrown off the cliff.

"As I said, Aramith," Henndar’s voice cut through the silence, low and steady. "You know very little about the woman you risked everything for."

Aramith’s voice cracked. "But I saved her. You only wanted to kill her."

"For good reason."

Henndar stepped forward, the echo of his boots unnaturally loud in the stone chamber. His gaze locked onto Aramith like a weight.

"She is cursed."

Aramith blinked. "Cursed?"

Curses were real — feared, outlawed, reviled. They weren’t just dangerous; they were wrong. Twisting fate, warping truth, undoing strength, cheating. Anyone with the curse attribute was disliked by almost everyone because of how unfair curses worked. No matter who you were, all it took was one good curse, and you’d lose everything. Aramith had studied them. But this... wasn’t making sense. How did Lynnor relate to a curse?

Henndar’s tone grew quieter. "There’s a reason she’s called Zero. And it has nothing to do with her record as an assassin. She may have failed zero assassinations or lost zero battles, but that is not the reason."

He paused for a moment.

"She is called Zero because she has zero will to live, and zero chance of dying. That is the curse she carries."

Aramith’s breath caught.

"An endless cycle," Henndar continued. "She yearns for death... and the curse keeps her from it. Every time she seeks it, something, someone, pulls her back. Coincidence, luck, or manipulation? No. It’s the curse. She cannot die. But she will keep trying."

The words felt like stone in Aramith’s stomach.

Henndar tilted his head slightly. "And sometimes, the curse doesn’t attempt to kill her directly. It kills others... through her."

He stepped forward, his expression unreadable.

"So ask yourself: Did you save her? Or did her curse reach through her and pull you in?"

Aramith’s mind reeled. The voices in his head, those whispers of victory, of purpose; they twisted now, like oil on water.

"No..." he murmured. "She has people who need her. Jade. Lydan. She wouldn’t seek—"

"She already has."

Henndar’s voice dropped, and this time it wasn’t anger. It was pity.

"You made a decision. You thought it was yours. But your power, her curse, maybe even something deeper... they made it for you."

Aramith looked up slowly. His limbs felt cold.

"I..."

"I am your father." Henndar’s voice cracked slightly now, the first sign of something raw. "And everything I have done, everything, was to keep you safe."

His tone hardened again.

"But instead, you turned on me. You challenged me publicly before foreign leaders. You forced my hand. You disgraced the crown."

He drew in a sharp breath.

"I had two choices: banish you... or kill you."

"NO!"

Mozrael’s voice tore across the room like a whip. "Please—anything but that!"

Her eyes burned, her wrists straining against the chains.

Henndar didn’t look at her right away. When he did, it was with heavy eyes.

"I never wanted you involved in this, Mozrael," he said quietly. "But your presence here leaves me no choice."

He turned away from them, his voice quieter now, tinged with real grief.

"Lia woke up not long ago. You three had finally found peace. Even Kesha had come to join you. And now..."

He exhaled sharply, as if pushing the words through pain.

"Now, you’ve broken that. Lia may never walk again. And you—"

He turned back to them, face drawn and distant.

"You’re leaving her behind. Forever. Not even a farewell."

Silence.

"Do you think this is fair? It never is. But this is what your choices have bought you."

He straightened, the finality in his tone chilling.

"From this moment forward, you are no longer royalty. You are no longer citizens of this land."

He walked to the edge of the portal.

"At sunrise, you will be escorted out of this kingdom."

He hesitated a moment, his back still turned.

"Let the rising sun carry your names away from our walls."

And with that, Henndar vanished into the fold of light, leaving behind only silence and the sound of chains.

The room remained still, long after Henndar left. The silence felt heavier than before, settling into the cracks of the dim chamber like ash.

Lynnor didn’t move.

She sat back down without a word, folding her arms over her knees, her gaze distant. Not even Henndar’s cruelty had stirred her. It was like she had already died long ago, and now, only a breath remained to hold her together.

Aramith’s chest rose and fell with labored rhythm, his eyes barely open. He tasted blood on his tongue. The searing ache in his ribs reminded him he’d survived something he shouldn’t have, but he wasn’t sure if survival was even the victory anymore.

His thoughts swirled sluggishly, like trying to grasp shadows underwater. Why... did Father do this? No, I caused this, but why?

But no answer came.

Just a void.

And then, Mozrael.

She hadn’t moved either, but her thoughts churned like a thunderstorm. Her hands trembled in her lap—not from fear, but from the hurt that still hadn’t left her veins. It scorched her from within, curled around her heart like claws.

What have we done?

Henndar had never raised his hand against them. Not until now.

And not like this.

Her eyes burned, her breath was unsteady.

And guilt sat beside her like an unwelcome guest.

Lia.

She’d walked away. She’d chosen this—chasing Aramith, chasing the truth, and left her behind. Now, she wouldn’t even get to say goodbye.

But when her gaze fell on Aramith, still frozen but breathing, the storm inside shifted.

He’s the one who’s mostly there for me, always watching my back. He needs someone now. Someone who won’t run.

So she swallowed the rest of her pain, forced her breathing still, and leaned closer to him. Her chains clinked as she moved, but she didn’t care.

"I’m sorry," Aramith whispered. "Mozrael, I’m sorry," he repeated.

"It’s okay," she replied quietly.

But Mozrael had already accepted this. What has happened is in the past. They had to look at what lay ahead now.

If this was the path they were being forced to walk... Then she would walk beside him.

Even if it burned.

Even if it broke her.

The silence lingered as the three of them sat in that hollow underground chamber, bound by chains, regrets, and a future none of them had truly chosen.

But beneath it all, a fragile resolve was beginning to form.

And it would not break easily.