The white light swallowed everything.
Uriel instinctively raised an arm to shield his eyes, but the brilliance passed through his hand as though it wasn't truly light at all.
The sounds of battle disappeared.
The clash of steel.
The cries of soldiers.
Even his own breathing.
Silence.
Then—
Stone.
He stood within an enormous circular chamber unlike anything he had ever seen.
Twelve towering pillars surrounded him, each carved with the likeness of a masked warrior. Between them burned braziers filled with white fire that gave no heat.
Above, the ceiling vanished into darkness.
The air felt ancient.
Untouched by time.
At the center of the hall rested a pedestal of black marble.
Upon it lay a porcelain mask.
Perfect.
Unbroken.
Unlike the one fused to Uriel's face, this mask bore no cracks, no veins of molten gold.
It looked... peaceful.
A familiar voice echoed through the chamber.
"You're late."
Uriel turned sharply.
A young man stood a short distance away, dressed in white ceremonial robes.
Dark hair.
Confident posture.
Clear blue eyes.
Kaelen.
Not the man who commanded the Black Blades.
Not the enemy standing atop burning cities.
Just a young apprentice.
He smiled.
"I knew you'd forget the ceremony."
Uriel stared at him.
"Kaelen..."
His friend frowned.
"What's wrong with you?"
Another figure entered the chamber.
Veyra.
She wore simple training clothes instead of armor, her wooden practice sword hanging loosely from her belt.
"There you are."
She folded her arms.
"The Elders are waiting."
Uriel looked from one familiar face to the other.
Neither showed the slightest sign of recognizing his confusion.
Because this wasn't the present.
It was memory.
The three walked together through the Hall of Faces.
Along the walls hung hundreds of porcelain masks.
Each was different.
Some smiled.
Some wept.
Others wore expressions impossible to understand.
None had eyes.
Kaelen glanced toward them.
"I still don't understand why they keep these."
Veyra answered quietly.
"My father says every mask belonged to a Keeper."
Kaelen laughed.
"There couldn't have been that many."
"There were."
The calm voice belonged to Master Arcturus.
He emerged from the far end of the hall, accompanied by eleven elders clothed in white robes embroidered with silver thread.
Every elder wore a plain porcelain mask.
Only their eyes remained visible.
Master Arcturus stopped before the three apprentices.
"The hour has come."
Kaelen stepped forward confidently.
"We're ready."
Arcturus smiled gently.
"I know."
His gaze settled on Uriel.
"But only one of you has been called."
Kaelen's smile faded.
Veyra looked at Uriel in surprise.
"You never told us."
"I didn't know."
Uriel answered honestly.
Master Arcturus extended one hand toward the black pedestal.
"The Keeper's Mask has made its choice."
Uriel looked at the porcelain mask resting upon the stone.
Something deep inside him stirred.
Not excitement.
Fear.
"I don't want it."
The words escaped before he could stop them.
Silence spread through the Hall.
One elder tilted his head.
"Why?"
Uriel swallowed.
"Because everyone who wears it..."
"...changes."
The elders exchanged quiet glances.
Master Arcturus stepped closer.
"They do."
"Then choose someone else."
Kaelen immediately spoke.
"I'll take it."
Every elder turned toward him.
Master Arcturus smiled sadly.
"It does not work that way."
"The Mask cannot be claimed."
"It chooses."
Kaelen clenched his fists.
"What makes him worthy?"
"He doesn't even want it."
Another elder answered.
"That is precisely why."
Uriel looked up.
"I don't understand."
Master Arcturus rested a hand on his shoulder.
"The strongest warrior seeks power."
"The wisest seeks knowledge."
"The Keeper seeks neither."
"He accepts only burden."
The words settled heavily within the hall.
Master Arcturus continued.
"The Mask does not choose those willing to rule."
"It chooses those willing to sacrifice."
Uriel looked once more at the porcelain mask.
"What if I refuse?"
A long silence followed.
Then one of the masked elders spoke.
"You may."
Relief crossed Uriel's face.
"But another will bear what was meant for you."
His expression faltered.
"What burden?"
No answer came.
Instead, Master Arcturus asked a question.
"If darkness came for this kingdom..."
"And the only way to save it was to lose yourself..."
"Would you do it?"
Uriel didn't answer immediately.
He looked toward Kaelen.
Toward Veyra.
Toward the countless masks watching silently from the walls.
Then he nodded.
"Yes."
Master Arcturus smiled.
"I knew you would."
The porcelain mask rose from the pedestal.
No hands touched it.
It floated slowly toward Uriel.
His heartbeat quickened.
Kaelen stepped forward instinctively.
"Wait—"
The mask settled gently against Uriel's face.
For one heartbeat...
Nothing happened.
Then white fire erupted through the Hall.
Every mask lining the walls glowed brilliantly.
The pillars trembled.
The braziers roared to life.
Uriel cried out as unbearable heat coursed through his body.
Golden veins spread across the porcelain.
Master Arcturus closed his eyes.
"The bond is complete."
Kaelen stared in disbelief.
"He... actually became one."
Then—
Everything changed.
The white flames turned crimson.
A deafening roar shook the Hall.
Cracks spread across the marble floor.
The elders looked around in alarm.
"Impossible."
"The Seal..."
"It's breaking!"
The walls trembled violently.
One of the porcelain masks hanging upon the wall shattered.
Then another.
Then dozens more.
A shadow passed overhead.
Massive.
Ancient.
The ceiling vanished beneath a pair of colossal wings.
Four wings.
A dragon unlike any creature born of the world looked down upon the Hall through burning golden eyes.
No one moved.
No one breathed.
The dragon opened its mouth.
Its voice resonated through every stone of the Hall.
"The First Keeper has returned."
The elders immediately fell to one knee.
Master Arcturus lowered his head.
"The Wheel begins again."
Kaelen remained standing.
His eyes never left Uriel.
Not with hatred.
With fear.
Pure, undeniable fear.
He whispered almost to himself,
"What... have they done to you?"
The vision began collapsing.
The Hall cracked apart.
Light poured through widening fractures.
Everything dissolved.
Uriel was thrown back into the present.
He crashed onto the cold floor of the Forgotten Vault, gasping for breath.
Veyra immediately knelt beside him.
"Uriel!"
His eyes opened slowly.
They were filled with tears he didn't realize he had shed.
"I remember..."
His voice trembled.
"I didn't choose the Mask..."
"It chose me."
Maera helped him sit upright.
"What else did you see?"
Uriel looked toward the glowing entrance to the Hall of Faces.
"The prophecy."
"The elders."
"The dragon..."
Before he could continue, a violent shockwave tore through the Vault.
The ancient archway shuddered.
The white light flickered.
Voren, still battling Captain Darius and the others, suddenly looked toward the Hall.
The color drained from his face.
"No..."
He lowered his sword.
His voice was barely a whisper.
"He knows."
The Keeper's Mask burned hotter than ever before.
Another voice echoed from beyond the Hall.
Softer.
Closer.
More familiar.
"Come, Keeper..."
"Your journey has only just begun."