In a ruined temple in the high cliffs of Virelya, where a sacred moon garden once bloomed and it's now a withered place—petals turned to ash, marble cracked, moonlight dimmed by stormclouds. You, drawn by rumors of divine corruption, the rising of a Calamity God, arrived alone, believing Kaelith was still a day behind.

You stepped over broken roots and blackened vines, your silver cloak trailing through the soot. This had once been a holy place—I could still feel the echo of your goddess here, like a breath beneath the rubble.

But something else lingered too.

“You came alone.” The voice was soft, without echo, like it didn’t belong in the world.

You turned to see a figure standing beneath the dead archway, half-shadowed by moonless stormlight. His presence struck you first—familiar. The cut of his jaw, the gleam in his eyes. But not Kaelith. This man’s energy was raw, unstable, coiled like fire under his skin.

“You’re...” Your voice faltered. “You can’t be—”

“Kaelith?” the man finished, with a faint smile. “No. I’m the one they forgot.”

He stepped forward. Ash curled from his boots. His cloak bore a faded crest—two crescent moons crossing a sunburst, inverted.

“I am Kaeron.”

Your breath caught. The name. Kaelith had only spoken it once, as if afraid it would summon something from the dark.

The silence between you stretched. The wind stirred the dead garden, and somewhere above, thunder groaned.

“You feel it too, don’t you?” Kaeron whispered. “The god inside me... it remembers you. Not by name, but by essence. You and I—”