The forest behind the village had always been quiet—too quiet.
Children were warned never to venture too far past the tree line, not because of beasts, but because the trees watched. The elders said the forest had memories.
That day, Ji-hyeon felt drawn to it.
With each step deeper into the woods, the mark on his palm grew warmer. The wind carried whispers—fragments of a language he didn't know, yet somehow understood.
> "Awakened… returned… forgotten flame…"
He reached a clearing. In the center stood a single, withered tree—blackened by fire, yet standing tall. Beneath it lay broken stones arranged in a long-forgotten circle, as if once part of a ritual site.
Ji-hyeon approached slowly, placing his hand on the bark.
The world froze.
And then—he remembered.
A battlefield beneath crimson skies. Armies bowing before him. The world shattering under his command.
> I was feared... worshipped… and cursed.
But the memory faded like smoke, and Ji-hyeon stumbled back, gasping.
Suddenly, the woman who had been watching him earlier stepped into the clearing. She wore a cloak made of silver threads, and her eyes burned with knowing.
> "You are not ready to remember," she said. "But you are being watched. Not just by me."
Ji-hyeon stared at her. "Who are you?"
The woman gave a half-smile. "A fragment of the old pact. A guardian of balance. I've come because he has begun to awaken."
She turned, and in an instant, vanished into mist.
Left alone, Ji-hyeon looked up at the sky.
Somewhere far above, a great tower shrouded in clouds began to hum with life. Scrolls of ancient prophecy unfurled. Names forgotten by history stirred awake.
And somewhere—beyond the realm of mortals—a throne long empty cracked at its base.