Fragments of Oblivion: Lost Memories

Elias had no sense of how long he'd been falling.

The Divide wasn't like the real world, nor was it like the dreamlike haze of Velra's domain. It was something in between—a fractured, shifting plane of light and shadow that bent and warped around him. Gravity seemed optional, pulling him one way and then the other, as if the space itself couldn't decide where he belonged.

Shards of light drifted past him, each one flickering with images he couldn't quite make sense of. A memory? A dream? A nightmare? He didn't know. His body felt weightless, and his mind swam with echoes of things he didn't remember.

One shard drifted closer, catching his attention. It was larger than the others, glowing faintly blue. As it floated past, an image flickered across its surface: a boy and a girl sitting by a lake, their laughter ringing out in perfect harmony.

Elias reached for it instinctively, his hand brushing the shard's surface. The image shattered, and a voice whispered through the air, soft and fleeting.

"Don't you remember?"

The words sent a chill through him. He pulled his hand back, his chest tightening.

"No. Wait, remember what...?"

The device in his hand pulsed faintly, its glow dim but steady. It was the only thing keeping him anchored, the only thing that reminded him he wasn't lost entirely.

A faint hum rose in the distance, growing louder with each passing second. The shards of light around him began to tremble, their glow intensifying. The hum became a roar, and the world around him exploded in a blinding flash of light.

When the light faded, Elias found himself on solid ground.

The air was thick and heavy, carrying the scent of wet stone and something he could quite place. He looked around, his vision adjusting to the dim glow that seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere at once.

The landscape was strange—impossibly vast and fragmented. Towers of jagged stone jutted out at odd angles, their surfaces reflecting faint, ghostly images that vanished when he looked directly at them. Pools of silver light dotted the ground, rippling like water but unnervingly still.

This was nothing like the world he knew.

His body ached, the weight of his earlier decision pressing against him like a physical thing. The memory he'd given up—the laughter—felt like a gaping hole in his mind. He knew something had been there, knew it had mattered, but the details were gone, leaving only an ache he couldn't name.

The device in his hand pulsed again, its glow brighter now. It pointed him forward, toward a distant structure that loomed on the horizon. It was massive, its shape shifting as he moved, like it couldn't decide what it wanted to be.

Keep moving, he told himself, taking a hesitant step forward.

The ground beneath his feet shifted slightly, soft and unstable, as if it wasn't entirely solid. Each step felt like walking through a memory—a sensation that was both familiar and alien, tugging at the edges of his mind.

"You're braver than you look."

The voice came from his left, sharp and sardonic. Elias froze, his hand instinctively tightening around the device.

A figure stepped out from behind one of the jagged stone towers, their movements fluid and confident. It was a woman, though she looked nothing like Velra. Her hair was cut short, and her eyes gleamed with an unnatural silver light that seemed to pierce through him. She carried herself with an ease that made Elias uneasy.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice low.

The woman smirked, crossing her arms as she leaned casually against the stone. "Someone who's been watching you stumble around here like a lost pup."

Elias's jaw tightened. "You must be a living memory."

"You're sharp," she said, her tone mocking. "Call me Kara. And you must be the new favorite toy of whoever's pulling the strings."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Kara laughed softly, pushing off the stone and stepping closer. "Of course you don't. That's the fun part. But trust me, you wouldn't be here if someone didn't think you were useful."

Elias took a step back, his instincts screaming at him to be cautious. "What do you want?"

Kara shrugged. "Maybe I'm curious. Maybe I'm bored. Or... maybe I just want to see how long it would take for you to fall apart."

Elias started to respond, but a familiar knot caught in is throat.

Kara tilted her head, her smirk fading slightly. "Look, I don't care why you're here, or what you're after. But if you're planning to head toward that—" she gestured toward the distant structure, her expression darkening—"you'd better be ready for what's waiting."

"What is it?"

Kara's eyes narrowed. "A fracture. A big one. And it doesn't like visitors."

Elias frowned, his grip on the device tightening. "Care to explain?"

Her gaze sharpened, and for the first time, her playful tone vanished entirely. "It's a piece of your world and this one, forced together. Memories, emotions, things people tried to bury, or things your people tried to gain—all twisted into something alive."

"And dangerous," she added after a pause.

Elias felt the weight of her words settle on him, cold and heavy. "If it's so dangerous, why are you still here?"

Kara's smirk returned. "Because I'm not done here yet. And because I'm not stupid enough to walk straight into it. You, on the other hand…"

Elias didn't respond. He turned his gaze back to the distant structure, its shape still shifting in the dim light.

This is what they wanted me to see, he thought. This is why they sent me here. But why can't I remember the reason I agreed to this?

"Do yourself a favor," Kara said, her voice softer now. "Turn back. Whatever you're looking for, it's not worth it."

Elias clenched his jaw, the device in his hand pulsing faintly.

Kara studied him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she sighed, stepping back into a mist of swirling mana.

"Your funeral," she said, her voice echoing faintly as she vanished.

Elias took a deep breath, his feet carrying him forward despite the unease twisting in his gut. The air grew colder as he approached the structure, the glow of the device growing brighter with each step.

The shifting shapes of the fracture loomed closer, its surface rippling like water caught in a storm. Faint whispers filled the air, tugging at the edges of his mind.

He stopped a few paces away, his chest tightening as the whispers grew louder.

"Elias," one of them said, soft and unfamiliar.

His blood ran cold.

"You let them erase me," it whispered, sharper now, cutting through the air like a blade.

Elias staggered back, his racing with things he didn't remember. The fracture rippled, its shape solidifying into something monstrous.

The whispers became a roar, and the world around him trembled.