The memory of Jason's father lingered like a fading echo in the mirrored sky. Jason stood silently, the chill of the gate winds brushing his skin, the fire of the Codex still pulsing in his veins. Around him, the strange, spectral landscape shimmered and shifted, a reflection of the gate's immense power.
Elias stepped forward cautiously. "That was no ordinary remnant. He was more than a vision—part of his soul is bound to this realm."
Jason nodded, his voice heavy with thought. "He left a warning. The Gate of Thrones is weakening… and to stop it, I need to find the Three Anchors."
"The Scepter of Flame too," Kaelith added, examining the runes etched into the floating stone pillars. "That artifact hasn't been seen since the last Bloodline War. Finding it won't be easy."
Leah looked between them. "Where do we even begin?"
Jason's hand trembled slightly as he reached into his satchel and drew out the Codex. The ancient book responded to his touch, its cover glowing faintly. As he opened it, the pages turned rapidly on their own before stopping on a blank page. Words began to appear—script burning themselves into the parchment in bright red flame.
Anchor I: The Dreaming Hollow.
Buried beneath the roots of the Moonfall Tree. Guarded by the Sentinel of Slumber.
Jason traced the words with his fingers. "The Dreaming Hollow… where is that?"
Kaelith looked grim. "It lies in the western woods, past the Fields of Whisper and into the Hollowshade. No one goes there. Not anymore."
Elias added, "They say time doesn't move normally in the Hollow. You could enter at dusk and come out years later… or moments earlier. It's an unstable zone—left behind after the last collapse of a blood gate."
Jason closed the Codex. "Then that's where we go. Before the Remnants get there first."
—
Their journey west took five days on foot. The terrain twisted unnaturally, forcing them to take long, winding paths to avoid lands twisted by ancient magic. They passed through villages where people remembered Jason's father—not as a warrior, but as a traitor. And Jason saw the fear in their eyes when he introduced himself.
By the sixth day, the air had changed. The sky darkened, not with storm clouds but with something… older. The light of day became a silvery twilight, and the trees thickened, their bark like polished obsidian.
They had reached the edge of the Hollowshade Forest.
Even Leah, always strong, took a cautious breath. "It feels like we're being watched."
"We are," Kaelith whispered. "The Hollow dreams… and when it dreams, it listens."
Elias took out a vial of glowing liquid. "Drink this. It'll protect your memory. Without it, the Hollow might make you forget why you entered… or who you are."
Jason drank deeply. The liquid burned like fire but cleared his mind instantly.
Together, they stepped into the Hollow.
—
The forest floor was soft, almost like walking on clouds. Time felt loose. Birds flew backward. A deer with silver antlers watched them silently and then vanished like smoke.
Jason focused on the runes in his arms—they pulsed faintly, guiding him toward the center.
After hours—or maybe minutes—they arrived at a clearing.
At its center stood a tree unlike any they had seen.
The Moonfall Tree.
Its trunk was wide enough to hold a castle. Its bark was white as bone, glowing faintly, and its roots curled above and below the ground like the limbs of a sleeping giant.
Jason approached.
The ground trembled.
A deep, ancient voice echoed from the roots.
"Who wakes the Hollow?"
From beneath the soil, something emerged—massive, ethereal, and crowned in leaves of ash.
The Sentinel of Slumber.
It had no eyes, but its face bore the calm of someone half-asleep, ancient and unmoved by time.
Jason stepped forward. "I seek the First Anchor."
The Sentinel did not answer. Instead, it raised a hand, and the dreamscape around them twisted violently.
Suddenly, Jason was alone.
—
He stood in a version of the forest that was burning. Ash fell like snow. Shadows danced in the fire.
And ahead—stood his father.
Alive.
Holding a sword. Crying.
"Jason…" his father whispered. "I tried to stop it. But I failed."
Jason moved toward him. "You didn't fail—"
But his father raised the sword.
And behind him came another Jason. Younger. Darker. With blood on his hands.
Jason stared. The vision-Jason laughed cruelly.
"You think you're the hero? You carry blood, not purity. The Gate doesn't choose saints—it chooses survivors."
The two versions of Jason charged him—his father and himself.
But Jason remembered Elias's words: "This is a dream. A test."
He shut his eyes and said aloud, "I am not the past. I carry it, but it doesn't define me."
When he opened his eyes, the forest had stilled. The figures vanished.
The Sentinel stood again before him.
"You passed," it said. "But the Anchor does not belong to you. Not yet."
The ground cracked. Roots parted.
And in a chamber beneath the tree, a golden pedestal rose—on it, a stone orb etched with fire.
Jason reached out.
The moment his fingers touched it, visions overwhelmed him.
A mountain split in half by a scream. A girl with one golden eye. A city buried beneath time. And the shadow of a throne—broken and waiting.
Jason fell to his knees.
Leah rushed to him. "Jason! Are you okay?"
He nodded slowly. "The first Anchor… it's a map. Not just to the Scepter—but to the other Anchors."
Kaelith helped him stand. "Then we move. Before the Remnants come."
Elias looked toward the sky, worry in his eyes. "It may already be too late."
—
That night, they camped near the edge of the Hollowshade.
Jason sat awake, watching the moon drift between the trees.
Leah sat beside him. "I saw you in the vision."
Jason turned to her. "What?"
She smiled softly. "The girl with the golden eye. That was me. I don't know how I know… but it was."
Jason nodded. "Then we're both tied to this more than we know."
Suddenly, the wind shifted.
A low howl echoed.
Elias stood instantly. "Something's coming."
Kaelith drew her blades. "Remnants?"
"No," Jason said, rising, his eyes glowing with the Codex's power.
"Something worse."
From the forest edge, shapes moved.
Hooded figures.
One stepped forward.
He wore a cracked mask shaped like a wolf's skull.
And in his hand, he held a shard of the Codex.
The masked man spoke, voice like rusted metal.
"The Gate shall bleed again. Give me the Anchor… or face extinction."
Jason raised his hand. "Come and take it."
The battle began in fire and thunder.