"Some truths do not illuminate.
They burn.And yet, in their light—We finally see the shape of the dark."
—Seluin of the Ninefold Seal
The Vale of Shattered Dawn
To reach the Gatekeeper, one had to walk the path of paradox.
North of Elun-Ra, the skies inverted—clouds flowing below, stars blinking overhead in daylight. Gravity bent sideways, and time no longer obeyed the rhythm of thought.
Amine, astride the Dream-Fire dragon, moved with caution. The Mirror Drinker clung to shadow. The Gateborn Child floated beside him in silence, her eyes glowing like coals extinguished long ago.
They had reached the edge of known myth.
Here, the Gatekeeper waited.
Not a warrior.Not a king.
But a forgotten sentinel, left behind when the gods themselves fled.
A Voice in the Wind
"Your footsteps are heavy with intention."
Amine dismounted.
The voice came from nowhere. And everywhere. Cold and brittle like glass about to shatter.
"I seek the one who remembers the First Gate," he said.
"I do not remember it," the voice replied.
"I am it."
Lightning forked sideways across the sky, illuminating a figure made of robes and ruin. No eyes. No mouth. Only a mask carved from obsidian and etched with runes that shifted when you didn't look at them.
"Gatekeeper," Amine whispered.
"You are not meant to be here."
"I was never meant to be anywhere. But I'm here."
The mask cracked.
And smiled.
The Gatekeeper's Trial
"I have three questions," said the Gatekeeper.
"Answer one. Lie on one. Speak one into silence."
Amine frowned. "What happens if I choose wrong?"
"You don't. That is the rule."
The Gateborn Child tugged his cloak. "He's not testing your knowledge," she said. "He's testing your intention."
Amine breathed.
"Ask."
The Gatekeeper raised a hand.
"First question: Why do you seek allies?""Second: What do you plan to do with the Hybrid?""Third: What do you truly fear?"
The Answered
To the first, Amine spoke:
"Because I can't do it alone. Because if I walk alone, I become the thing I fight."
To the second, he said nothing.
And to the third…
He lied.
"I fear losing."
The Gatekeeper paused.
"No," the entity whispered.
"But your silence was honest."
Cracks spread through the mask.
"Very well. Then I give you what was lost."
The Memory of the First Gate
Amine's vision collapsed inward.
He stood in a burning meadow under two suns, before a Gate not made of stone, but of pure decision. It pulsed like a wound in the universe, bleeding light and sound.
Before it stood a child.
The Hybrid.
Before he had form.
Before hate.
Behind him, two figures:
A dragon cloaked in stars.
A mage with stormlight in her veins.
The child turned. Reached out.
The Gate pulsed.
And the world chose fear.
And sealed the truth behind memory, magic, and war.
Amine collapsed.
What the Gatekeeper Gave
When he awoke, the Gatekeeper stood over him.
"I give you this," it said, "not to change the war. But to understand its shape."
A silver shard lay in his palm.
Not metal.
Not memory.
But possibility.
"The Hybrid," Amine whispered. "He was meant to be hope."
The Gatekeeper nodded.
"But when hope is caged… it turns to rage."
Elsewhere: Seluin Watches
From her tower, Seluin traced the leyline pulse that flared in the north.
She closed her eyes.
"They found the Gatekeeper."
Velnir cursed behind her.
"This is treason."
Seluin didn't respond.
Instead, she whispered a name not spoken in over a thousand years.
"Kael'En."
The original name of the Hybrid.
She lit a candle.
And began to write a letter.
"To my student.To the boy who taught me what memory means.To Amine Toku—I am ready to face the truth with you."
The Hybrid's Awakening
On the other side of the world, the Hybrid shuddered.
The seal on his back cracked.
The dream returned: a meadow, a Gate, a woman with lightning eyes.
He fell to his knees.
"…Mother?"