Snow fell endlessly.
Not a single bird flew across the sky.
Not a single living creature could be seen.
The northern wastelands felt…
Dead.
Kael stood before the enormous gates of Velkar.
Behind him waited the strongest people alive.
Draven Ashborn.
Selene Veritas.
Astra Noire.
Orion Zephar.
The First Prisoner.
And lying inside the city’s infirmary…
The Last Knight of Noctis.
Before losing consciousness, she had spoken only one sentence.
“The Kingdom still remembers its King.”
Those words refused to leave Kael’s mind.
The Memory Compass floated above his palm.
Its black crystal needle spun wildly.
North.
East.
West.
South.
Then—
It stopped.
Pointing toward empty air.
Toward a place where the map ended.
Draven looked at the compass.
“I still hate that thing.”
Kael glanced at him.
“Why?”
Draven folded his arms.
“Because it doesn’t guide people.”
“It chooses them.”
The First Prisoner stepped forward.
“The road to Noctis doesn’t exist.”
He paused.
“It remembers.”
Kael frowned.
“What does that mean?”
The old man smiled faintly.
“You don’t find Noctis.”
“It decides whether you’re allowed inside.”
Outside the city…
Thousands of soldiers watched silently.
No one volunteered to accompany them.
Everyone knew the legends.
Anyone who walked into the Northern Wastes…
Never returned.
The journey began.
The group traveled across endless snowfields.
Three days passed.
Then five.
Then seven.
Yet the landscape never changed.
The same frozen mountains.
The same black sky.
The same endless silence.
Kael stopped walking.
“We’ve been here before.”
Selene opened her ancient book.
She compared the surrounding mountains.
Then slowly closed it.
“He’s right.”
“We’ve walked in a perfect circle.”
Draven gripped his sword.
“I knew it.”
“The kingdom is hiding itself.”
Suddenly—
The Memory Compass began glowing.
Dark purple light spread across the snow.
Ancient runes appeared beneath Kael’s feet.
A voice echoed through the frozen wasteland.
Not from the sky.
Not from the earth.
From everywhere.
“State your name.”
Silence.
Kael answered instinctively.
“Kael Veyron.”
Nothing happened.
The voice returned.
Colder this time.
“False.”
The wind became violent.
Snow rose into the air.
The mountains disappeared.
Reality itself distorted.
The voice asked again.
“State your true name.”
Kael couldn’t answer.
He didn’t know.
The First Prisoner lowered his head.
“This is the First Gate.”
Draven frowned.
“The Kingdom is judging him.”
Suddenly—
A child appeared.
The same little girl from Kael’s vision.
Barefoot.
Long black hair.
Purple eyes.
She smiled warmly.
“You still don’t remember.”
Kael slowly approached.
“Who are you?”
The little girl giggled.
“You always asked too many questions.”
She reached into her pocket.
Then handed Kael…
A small wooden chess king.
Old.
Worn.
Broken.
The moment Kael touched it—
Another memory awakened.
A magnificent palace.
Golden sunlight.
A young prince laughing while playing chess.
Across from him sat…
The little girl.
“You cheated.”
The prince laughed.
The girl stuck out her tongue.
“So what?”
A woman entered the room.
Beautiful.
Kind.
Wearing a black royal dress.
She gently kissed the prince’s forehead.
“My little king.”
Everything froze.
The woman’s face became clearer.
Kael’s breathing stopped.
She looked…
Exactly like Lyra.
The memory shattered.
Kael stumbled backward.
“No…”
Astra immediately caught him.
“What did you see?”
Kael whispered,
“My mother…”
“…looked exactly like Lyra.”
Silence.
Even Orion’s calm expression disappeared.
The Time Throne Holder slowly closed his eyes.
“So…”
“It really happened.”
Kael looked at Orion.
“You knew?”
Orion nodded.
“I’ve seen that future.”
“No…”
He corrected himself.
“That past.”
Before Kael could question him—
The little girl suddenly stepped backward.
Her smile disappeared.
For the first time…
She looked frightened.
“They found you.”
Kael frowned.
“Who?”
She pointed toward the horizon.
Darkness.
Not night.
Something alive.
An army.
Millions of black-armored knights slowly emerged from the snow.
Silent.
Motionless.
Each carried a broken banner.
The emblem upon those banners…
A black crown surrounded by thirteen stars.
The Last Army of Noctis.
Draven slowly drew his sword.
“They’re undead.”
The First Prisoner shook his head.
“No.”
“They’re waiting.”
The army suddenly knelt.
All at once.
Millions of knights.
The ground shook beneath their movement.
One rider slowly approached.
Unlike the others…
He still wore a complete suit of black armor.
His cape fluttered in the icy wind.
His face remained hidden beneath a cracked helmet.
He stopped before Kael.
Then…
He removed his helmet.
Kael’s heart stopped.
The man looked exactly like him.
Older.
Scarred.
With glowing purple eyes.
The knight slowly knelt.
He placed his sword in the snow.
Then spoke words that shattered Kael’s world.
“Your Majesty…”
He lowered his head.
“The Royal Guard has awaited your return for ten thousand years.”
Silence.
No one moved.
No one breathed.
Even the wind had stopped.
Far beyond the frozen mountains…
A colossal black castle slowly emerged from the blizzard.
A kingdom erased from every map.
A kingdom erased from history.
The Kingdom of Noctis…
Had finally revealed itself.
End of Chapter 22