The real world did not greet them with fanfare. No glowing portals. No astral sounds. Everything... was silence. But not a natural one — it was the silence before a storm, where each moment holds its breath, refusing to become.
Albert was the first to open his eyes.
"It brought us to a different point. Not where we were. Not where we were going."
Kaelya stood up, looking around. The landscape was unknown: a vast gray plain, dotted with ruins like forgotten memories.
Elion bent down, picked up a stone. As he touched it, it crumbled into a cloud of dust... and a whispered voice slipped into his ears:
> "I was here. I hoped. I fell."
"This is... the place where people gave up their dreams," Elion said.
"No. It's where the dream gave up on people," Albert replied.
At the edge of the ruins, a strange structure rose — a black monolith twisted at an impossible angle. On it, symbols were carved in unknown languages... and they changed depending on who looked.
Kaelya stared at it and felt a chill. The symbols shifted into her name, into stories she hadn't lived... but often dreamed.
Albert touched the monolith — and the world around them darkened for a heartbeat.
Then a voice spoke, emotionless and clear:
> "This is the place where your past, your future, and who you believe yourself to be... become a single path. Step forward... or leave."
He stepped forward.
And found himself... in an unknown city. Night. The lights were red. Every street had a familiar shape, but reversed, like a broken mirror.
Albert was not alone. Around him, people with covered faces watched in silence.
And at the end of the street... someone was waiting for him.
It was... himself.
The other Albert was not an illusion. Not a reflection. He was alive. Dressed entirely in black, with a cloak that seemed to absorb light. His eyes… empty. Not with absence, but with the absence of mercy.
— You are... what I would have been, if...?
The other one smiled.
— If you had given up compassion. If you had chosen only power. If you had learned that people are just steps in your ascent.
Albert said nothing. Every word the other spoke cut deep—because he knew it was real.
— Why are you showing yourself now?
— Because soon, the world will ask for a leader. And only one of us will be chosen.
Around them, the city began to tremble. Buildings stretched toward the sky, then collapsed again, as if reality was a cosmic elastic stretched too far.
Kaelya and Elion were no longer with him. He was alone.
— What does it mean to be "the chosen one"? asked Albert.
— To have no name. To become the voice of law in a world without rules. To do what is necessary, even if... no one will understand it.
— I'm not afraid of that, Albert replied.
— But you're afraid of me.
Albert raised his hand. Not to strike, but to acknowledge.
— I'm not afraid of you. I'm afraid that... I'll become you.
The other stepped closer—close enough to touch.
— Then you're ready. But remember: the moment you abandon love... I win.
Albert closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, he was back with the others. The city was gone.
Only an invisible wound remained—one that didn't bleed, but burned with truth.
Albert said nothing upon returning to reality. He only looked into Kaelya's eyes, then Elion's. Neither of them asked what had happened. Each understood that in that foreign city, something had been cut away from him — and something else placed in its stead.
— Was it... a test? Elion asked.
Albert shook his head slightly.
— No. It was a choice.
Kaelya touched his hand.
— Did you choose well?
He sighed.
— I don't know yet.
They continued walking through the ruins. These weren't ordinary ruins. Every stone seemed to carry an unspoken word. Some had unknown symbols carved into them, others seemed sculpted with emotion — fear, despair, buried hope.
At one point, in the center of a silent plaza, they found a statue.
It was of a child — perhaps ten years old — holding a blue flame in his hands.
Kaelya covered her mouth.
— He looks like... you, Albert.
Elion stepped back.
— This isn't art. It's a solidified memory.
Albert approached and touched the statue.
At that moment, a woman's voice echoed from the stone:
> "What if the fire doesn't burn to light the way... but to hide the shadows within us?"
The stone cracked, but didn't crumble. It simply opened.
A tunnel descended into darkness beneath the ruins.
Albert:
— It's a choice.
Elion:
— Like all the ones before.
Kaelya:
— But it's the first that takes us down.
Albert smiled bitterly.
— Because sometimes... only in darkness do we find what's hidden.
And they stepped in.
The tunnel wasn't just an opening in the ground — it was a descent into a space suspended between time and memory. Along the damp walls, ancient runes glowed faintly, like fallen stars.
Each step deepened not only the darkness... but the silence.
Kaelya whispered:
— Do you feel that? It's not magic. It's... memory.
Elion touched his forehead:
— It recognizes us. Or... it's warning us.
Albert said nothing. He moved forward as if he knew exactly where he was going.
Until they reached a stone gate — circular, surrounded by symbols that seemed to spiral. In the center, an inscription:
> "He who seeks truth must give up voice. Only the heart shall speak."
Without hesitation, Albert touched the gate with his palm. The symbols froze. Then... melted.
The gate opened slowly.
Beyond it lay a vast chamber, bathed in a blue light that came from nowhere. In the center, on a pedestal, was a massive book, wrapped in threads of gold and silver. Its pages floated lightly, flipping on their own, as if the wind called them by name.
Kaelya:
— What is this?
Elion, overwhelmed:
— It's not a book. It's... a response.
Albert stepped closer and saw, on the first page, written in letters of light:
> "You have opened the Gate of the Unseen. From now on, every truth you uncover... will come at a price."
Kaelya took a step back.
— Do you still want to go on?
Albert closed his eyes.
— If we want to keep moving forward... we can no longer live with half-truths.
And he placed his hand on the book.
The chamber trembled. The light grew stronger. And voices — many voices — began to whisper:
> "Are you ready to see... who you would've been if you had never been summoned?"
Albert didn't answer. He simply let the book... open him.
Interlude – The Watching Voices
The world did not stand still in their absence. Far away, in the Amber Tower, a silent gathering of the five magical masters unfolded under heavy stillness.
— You felt it too? asked Armathiel, the elder of the Western Star.
— A shift in the weave of magic. But not a rupture. A... choice, said Elvara, the woman with quartz hair.
— Three entered. Only one holds the key, murmured the Nameless One.
In the Temple of the Deaf Gods, a priestess carved runes into a marble column.
Each rune... was a name. But a name that no longer existed in the world.
A child approached:
— What are you writing, Mistress?
She answered without lifting her eyes:
— I write those who step beyond words. When their names are whispered... not even silence will be safe.
On an island buried in eternal mists, the Entity removed her gloves. Her hands were of pure light. In front of her, a cracked mirror reflected her — but from within it, a version of Albert stared back.
— I can't stop him, she said.
From the mirror, the voice replied:
— You don't have to. You just have to follow closely enough... not to lose your heart.
And above all, beyond the visible plane, the Eternal Council opened a new page in the Book of Time.
On it… a single phrase appeared:
> "Albert has touched the threshold. Ancient shadows stir. But he no longer seeks permission."
And then, for the first time in a thousand years, one of the Council's members stood up.
The book had no ordinary pages. Each sheet was a state of mind. When Albert touched it, he didn't read — he lived. A dream in which he had never been summoned, where he remained in his own world, simple, anonymous.
He was a child in a dusty library. Reading about magic, without believing it existed. Seeing people, without understanding how much their lives mattered.
Days passed monotonously. Without light. Without danger.
Until one night, he dreamed the same voice that had spoken to him at his summoning:
> "You can continue like this... or you can truly begin."
He woke up crying. In the dream, he had lived an entire life. In reality, only three seconds had passed.
The book closed on its own. Kaelya was holding him, trembling. Elion watched over him with wide eyes.
Albert was pale. Sweating. But wearing a quiet smile.
— What did you see? Kaelya asked.
Albert:
— Not what… but who I would've been without all this.
Elion:
— And?
Albert stood up.
— I wouldn't have been alive. Just... in life.
Suddenly, the chamber shook. A portal opened in the floor — but it wasn't magic. It was acceptance. The book was the key. The choice, the door.
Kaelya:
— Back to the world?
Albert:
— No. Forward.
Elion:
— But where does it lead?
Albert:
— To the place where choices become consequences.
And they descended into the light.
In a distant corner of the world, far from light and attention, a woman wearing a white mask and a simple robe wrote with living ink on a torn parchment.
The letters moved on their own beneath the quill.
> "Albert has chosen. The path can no longer be reversed. Was it my mistake... or was it inevitable?"
The room was small. Just one candle lit. But on the walls, hundreds of hand-drawn eyes stared in every direction.
She raised her left hand. On it, a ring with a glowing blue stone pulsed gently.
— He's still alive, she whispered. And he's... farther along than I imagined.
In that moment, a figure cloaked in black cloth appeared in the doorway.
— What did you see, Summoner?
She didn't turn her head.
— I didn't "see." I felt. When I summoned him… I opened a door that no one can close without blood.
— So what do we do now?
She stood up. The wall lights flickered in shades of blue and violet.
— We return to the academy. As a teacher. As a shadow. And we wait for the tournament to begin.
Outside the window, a four-winged bird of crystal beat through the air, then vanished in a flare of magnetic light and sound. The message had been sent.
Elsewhere, another woman — Kaelya — felt a chill on the back of her neck. Albert flinched. He didn't know why, but a silent, ancient presence had just begun to move again.
Her name had been erased from the archives. Neither professors nor the leaders of magical orders dared to speak her title. But for those who knew, she was called only Zhelenya — the one who did what should never have been done.
On the surface, she was a simple professor of arcane arts at Ismir Academy, one of the four great magical schools of the central continent. She taught with a calm voice, in a classroom where no student ever raised their tone. Those who came too close to the truth... vanished from the register.
But her real role was not to educate. It was to watch. And to wait.
That evening, behind the mirror in her secret chamber, Zhelenya silently communed through hidden magic with an invisible network — The Circle of the Exiled, a group of former mages, heretics, and outcasts who continued to monitor Albert's progress from afar.
> "He has crossed the threshold. Touched the Book of the Unseen. He is... different now."
A voice from the network responded:
> "Then we can no longer control him. But we can control the world around him."
Zhelenya closed the connection and turned back to her table. On it — magical maps. Academy symbols. And a page marked: The Intercontinental Magic Tournament.
Within the academy, a group of students were fiercely competing in a training hall. Two of them – Tyras and Yavelle – had unstable magical auras, and the duel had become too real.
Zhelenya calmly stepped between them. No gestures.
— I said fire is not extinguished by fire. It is extinguished by truth.
The two fell to their knees without knowing why. Her aura... was invisible, but impossible to withstand.
As she exited the hall, she whispered to herself:
— If Albert survives… it won't be as the summoned one. But as a man.
In a hidden cage deep beneath the academy, a masked bird opened its eyes. It was the Inverted Messenger — the sign that a new conflict was about to begin.
Zhelenya walked slowly through the stone arcades of Ismir Academy's inner sanctum. Above, dazzling magical orbs danced between the columns, transmitting messages to the upper instructors. In just a few days, the Intercontinental Magic Tournament would begin — and all eyes were on the Royal Academy of Thirwen, a historical favorite and close ally of the Central Council.
But Ismir was no ordinary academy. Deep within, generations of mages had been trained not only to control magic... but to listen to it.
Zhelenya entered a vast, semicircular chamber with 13 empty chairs arranged around a sacred symbol — the Runes of Forbidden Summoning. This was where the Fallen Summoners' Council once met. Now, she was the only one left.
On a stone bench, a white-haired boy — Arkeos — was studying an astral map. He was one of those scheduled to compete in the tournament, but what no one knew was that he wasn't just a student.
He had been raised by Zhelenya. He was her link to the new generation. And the one tasked not just to watch — but to choose.
— I'll find the ones like him, said Arkeos without looking up.
Zhelenya stood beside him.
— Not to find them. To understand them. Because the world won't be saved by power. But by clarity.
— Do you think Albert will appear at the tournament?
— No. But his echo... will.
Meanwhile, at other academies, tension grew. Spies with false identities had already been discovered in two of the five participating schools. A coach was found unconscious, rune markings of control burned into his neck.
And in the underground vaults of Thirwen Academy, a nameless being wrapped in blue smoke whispered the name of a single realm:
> "The Inverted Eden… will open once again."
Zhelenya gazed up at the false sky projected across the dome of the library.
— Albert, she thought, you don't even realize... they're all searching for you, without knowing who you truly are.